[AP] PRODIGAL SON, A Rogue's Tale - Book II

[Scion Drakhar]

80. Numb


Yeah. So-aah…

Gin's gone.

...

I don't know why she left. I don't know where she went. I don't know why she didn't say anything to me before she vanished. Hell, the only thing I'm actually sure of is that she really is gone. I went to check on her last night and found the tube where she'd been convalescing just… empty. The doctors didn't know anything. The nurses said she'd come-to earlier in the night and checked herself out. And, for some reason, Legion decided not to tell me. Said Gin asked him not to.

Since findin' out I've been kinda… numb. I keep findin' myself just starin' out inta space, you know? One moment I'm sittin' here watchin' my new complex turn over or checkin' on the minin' fleet up in Spires of Elusion, and the next it's thirty mizura later and I realize that all I've done for the last hour is just stare out the window. Not thinkin'. Not plannin'. Not even feelin' anythin'. Just starin' out inta space. The lights are on but… nobody's home. Hayla tells me it's my "subconscious tryin' to avoid the pain". I don't know. I've never experienced anything like this before. I'm not even really sure what to call it. It's not pain. Not exactly. It's more like there's this great big hole in the world where I used to be. I just feel… numb.

You know one of the strangest things I've noticed is that, since she left, nobody'll actually say Gin's name. At least not to me. My Ma and Seldon have been takin' turns babysittin' me. Seldon's been makin' sure I stay on top of what's goan on with the fleet by makin' me do things like return calls and honor obligations…yeah, I need to give her a big, fat raise… and Hayla's been makin' sure I do things like eat and bathe and sleep. Oh, and-ah, Kao t'Kt has been a second shadow. It's weird. I'm not like I'm in any new kind of danger or anything but he's actin' like I am. Hell if I know. I've also gotten calls from both Ea't and H'nt, both wantin' to know if I want 'em to come by and get me drunk. So everybody knows I'm hurt, and why, but nobody actually talks about her, and if they absolutely have to it's always done obliquely. A question about whether the rapier she took has turned up or whether I want to reassign the Shirubāurufu or if I want to have the apartment cleaned, the sheets changed, that kind of thing. Hell, even when my Ma asks me how I'm doin' she sort of skirts around talkin' about Gin, and she's never been tactful in her life. I guess nobody really knows what to think. And you know, that's probably the worst thing about all this. The not knowin', I mean. I mean I… I don't think she's betrayed me or anything. That thought never even crossed my mind. I just think she's got some unfinished business that she can't let go of, or maybe that can't let go of her. Hell, I don't know.

...

Wanna know the weirdest thing, though? And I haven't said this to anybody.

...

Hooo… !

...

I knew this was comin'.

I mean not this. Not goin' over to the Endless and findin' Gin's tube empty. But… I don't know how to say it. I guess it's like… I always knew that she was, I don't know, on loan somehow. Like, I always knew I'd have to let her go again someday. I guess I just sorta figured that I'd have more time, you know? Before that day showed up?

Cliche, right?

Yeah.

Hayla keeps tellin' me to get out of my head. She says that until I hear from Gin I can't know what she's thinkin' or what her motives are or how she feels about me. It's a little funny to me, you know? I know all of that but I still like hearin' it.

Shit.

I tell ya, this really has been, without a doubt, one of the strangest days of my life. And that is one hell of a statement. But what else to you call it when you make over two hundred million credits and still consider it to be one of the worst days of your life? And in order to make that money I didn't actually do much of anything, and at the same time, all I did all day long was try to distract myself from this enormous gaping whole in my life… by workin'. This day has been one great big, non-stop contradiction in terms.

For one thing I haven't slept yet. Hayla made me try, repeatedly, but I just end up starin' out into space until I get bored. Which means this is somethin' like the second day in a row when I've been up for over twenty four hours straight. So I can hardly work cos my brain won't stay in gear, but then I can't sleep either cos my brain won't disengage. So now I feel like I'm both awake and asleep at the same time. I'm feelin' really sensitive right now, which tends to inspire gentleness and compassion, but at the same time I'm so cranky I frequently want to skin people alive. Which is only fair, I guess, cos I'm pretty sure Seldon feels the same way about me right now.

Yeah. She kinda got saddled with Rana's old job and she's not bloody happy about it. On the upside, well, upside for me, anyway, she's now got a pretty good idea of what I go through on a daily basis, which I think has bought me a little leeway with her. Yeah, I am really gonna have to try and avoid goan' after corvettes from now on. I may make an exception for hyperions but M6s really do seem to be the most dangerous ships for my marines, and I don't know how many more of her marines I can get killed before Seldon murders me… or worse, quits.

At one point she came in to tell me that S'jar t'Chk, Thane, Ea't, H'nt, Chinomu, my minin' boss, half a dozen of my UT's, and fifteen people on three different complexes in Savage Spur all wanted my attention like… yesterday. Yeah, t'Chk and Thane both had work for me. Ea't and Chinomu wanted an update on the new panthers, which I hadn't even priced yet. H'nt was lettin' me know that Doc Jared was makin' his life unpleasant cos I stood the old guy up. The minin' fleet was letting me know the Sisyphys would be ready to make a delivery today. My UT's were basically just keepin' me up to date on how many times they'd been attacked last night… I swear one of these days I'm just gonna take a couple of boomers into x598 and nuke everything. Maybe that'll be enough to make Grand Exchange safe for a sezura. Oh, and apparently I misjudged the balance between the number of energy cells my new complex requires with how much my energy complex actually produced. So I had over a dozen stations shut down for want of power. Aside from t'Chk and Thane none of it was exactly scary, but Seldon's eyes looked like they were about to fall out of her head. Under different circumstances it might have even been funny, but today I was havin' trouble findin' a smile.

********

Seldon stared at the holoscreen looming over the Predator's bridge and genuinely did not know how she'd managed to end up in the position she was in. She could remember each moment as she moved through time but she couldn't find any one point where she'd started the journey that led her here. Within her own thoughts she described herself as a marine, a grunt, a footsoldier, or sometimes, when she was feeling particulary foul, a meat-bag. Yet somehow, over the past few months, she'd gone from being just another grunt to being the lead grunt and trainer of grunts. Then she'd become a judge of the despicable, looking for something worth saving in those who were all too often beyond redemption. And now, somehow, as impossible as it seemed, she was, for all intents and purposes, running a bloody corporation for a man so young that heartbreak still shut him down. She simply did not know what to make of it.

And then, of course, there were the perks… such as listening to the Se'tjak Yaki Clan Leader scream at her for not fetching the traumatized teenager she worked for so said Clan Leader could task the boy with murder.

"I'm just very concerned," S'jar t'chk said, clean and smooth as polished silk, "with our young Drake's lack of attention to his..." t'Chk practically became a different person. His hands slammed down on his desk, making the camera shake. Veins leapt up to squirm under his skin. Froth and spittle sprayed onto the camera. "...BLOODY CLAN LEADER!!!" He shook a finger at the now dripping image. "So go GET that little SHIT and make him TALK TO ME!!!"

Seldon took a deep breath both to avoid saying anything rash and to give her heart a chance to slow back down. "As I said, Clan Leader," she spoke with measured control, "Drakhar is currently indisposed. If you tell me what we can do for you I'd be happy to relay the information to..."

"You," t'Chk said, suddenly smiling and sounding both intelligent and cultured again, "can go get Drakey boy and make him talk to me. And, sweet cheeks? You can do that RIGHT BLOODY NOW!" The comm channel suddenly winked closed.

Seldon took another deep breath then turned to leave the bridge.

"Uh, ma'am?" a young man called to her.

Seldon paused and glanced at the speaker. It was one of the Nedleys. There were four of them on the ship; three brothers, two of whom were twins, and a sister. This one was at the communications station, but Seldon had no idea which of the three he was. "Yeah?"

"There's another call coming in, ma'am."

Seldon took a breath, "is it t'Chk?"

"No ma'am," Nedley told her. "It's from the shipyard."

Seldon nodded and turned around to face the screen. She made a tired, circular motion with one finger, 'put it through.'

A moment later the holo-screen winked to life again. Only this time she saw a large, shaggy head and a decidedly canine face. After a moment she realized she was looking at one of the dockmaster's monstrous dogs stealing a pastry off his desk. A moment later the dog vanished and she saw Thane with a datapad in his hand.

"Uh… hello?" she said.

The big man looked up, saw her, and beamed a broad, charming smile at her. "Latasha Seldon!" he boomed. His big, bass voice actually made her insides shiver. A moment later she found herself smiling back at him without quite intending to. "What a pleasure!"

"Greetings, dockmaster," she said to him.

"'Thane'," he said, "please."

"Alright, Thane," she smiled, struggling not to look at him through her eyelashes. 'God damn it, woman!' she cursed herself. 'Get a hold of yourself!' "What can I do for you?"

"Well," he mused, sounding like distant thunder, "I need several stations constructed and your employer has committed to being of service should I require him. Is he available?"

"He's indisposed at the moment," she told him. "But if you forward the details I'll make sure he sees them."

"Already done," he told her, smiling warmly and not bothering to hide his admiration.

'Oh shit,' she thought, 'more trouble.' And yet she still couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"Ma'am?" the Nedley boy again.

"Aye?" she asked without looking away from Thane. "Two files coming through, ma'am."

"Understood," she said and lifted her chin at Thane. "I'll make sure that he sees them."

Thane's smile grew just a little more broad. Then the connection winked out. She blinked and shook her head to dispel the tide of happy hormones flooding her brain. Then she stepped up to the nearest terminal and opened the three files the two Yaki bosses just sent her. Thane wanted a pair of stations built in Okrakoke's Storm. S'jar t'Chk, on the other hand, wanted Drake to destroy a pirate fleet, which also happened to be in Ocrakoke's Storm. She sighed, wondering if Drake was being dragged into some kind of pissing war between a pair of Yaki clan leaders.

After a moment she closed the files, turned, and made her way to the kid's stateroom. After being announced by Sargeant Mayenne Bro, one of the five remaining "real" marines on the Predator, she stepped through the hatch. The kid was standing at the window across the compartment from her. He didn't seem to notice her but he did have both a glass of whiskey and a cigar close to hand, which, oddly enough, she found comforting.

The hatch closed behind her and he glanced in her direction. "T'Chk is getting ready to burst a blood vessel," she told him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Cos he's a crazy asshole?" she suggested. Drake turned a frozen gaze her way. She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "He wants to talk to you and doesn't like me telling him 'no'."

"What does he want?"

"Death and destruction," she said dramatically, then used her wrist comm to call up t'Chk's assignment on one of the holo projectors hidden in Drake's wall. A moment later she had the mission details on one screen and the sector map of Ocrakoke's Storm on another. She pointed at the hostile contacts. "He wants us to kill the Teladi in charge of that mess. He didn't explain why. Although he did take the time to question my heritage and suggest some gene therapy that would raise my IQ a few points."

Drake rolled his eyes as he turned back to the window.

"And Thane wants us to build a pair of stations," she told him and called up the details on another holo-projector.

"Forward the details to Odin," he said.

"Will do, but he'll need you to authorize the credit transfer."

Drake took a sip of his whiskey.

"Captains Ea't and Chinomu both requested updates on when you intend to purchase the new panther-class frigates and fighters…"

He grunted.

"Captain Yahanis Olandis Ugalirias the eighth wants me to inform you that the Sisyphus will be ready to deliver another shipment of nividium by seventeen hundred today…"

"What's the status of the roid they're working on?"

"She doesn't say," Seldon told him. "But there are still forty active navigational markers. That means they're still working, right?"

Drake nodded. "Aye," he said, sounding impressed.

"You've also gotten messages from," she made a quick count, "seven ships with the designation UT and then a number…"

"Any of them asking for assistance?"

"No," she said. "They just wanted you to know that they were targeted and escaped. Oh, and that they're buying..."

"Fighter drones," he nodded, "and takin' up work somewhere else."

"Aye," she nodded.

"Let me guess, Grand Exchange?"

"Aye?"

He shook his head disgustedly and then made a motion for her to carry on.

"What are UT's?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Universal Traders," he said.

"Traders?"

He puffed on his cigar and nodded. "They're basically freelance traders that pay me a percentage of their profits."

"Why do they do that?"

He glanced at her. "Cos they're flyin' my ships," he said as if it were obvious.

She blinked and shook her head. "How many operations do you have goin'?"

He looked at her again and, lo and behold, he actually smiled. "A lot," he said, sounding smug.

Seldon shook her head again and then checked the list she'd made. "Oh, and there are a lot of calls for you from folks in Savage Spur."

"What do they want?"

"They're all station managers telling you that their factories are shutting down."

He grunted. "Well that's not good," he said. "I should probably do somethin' about that."

"You think?"

"Any common thread in their complaints?"

Seldon checked then looked back up. "Energy. They're all out of power."

He sighed and nodded. "Tell Odin not to leave the shipyard til I talk with him, and contact the Salvage Crew II and tell Ray to get his ass up to the shipyard in Cloudbase Southeast. Oh, and tell the station managers to do the best they can until I get back to 'em."

She nodded, feeling dazed. "Will do." She started to turn around then looked at the kid again. He was moving to sit behind his desk. "Hey," she said.

He looked up.

"Is it always like this?"

He glanced at her. "Nah," he shook his head. "This is a slow day."

********

Right. So t'Chk wanted me to kill somebody for him and Thane wanted a pair of stations built. So, since I also needed to enlarge my energy complex, I sent orders to both the Patriarch and the Salvage Crew II tellin' 'em to head for Cloudbase Southeast and await instructions. Then I took a look at the fleet that Teladi what t'Chk wanted dead was commandin'. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle in the Predator, so long as my supply of Typhoons was topped up, but the bounty t'Chk was offerin' on that Teladi wasn't exactly inspirin'. So, after runnin' it past Seldon, I decided to take the carrack.

Now Seldon's approval was conditional. She asked to be on the bridge when I scanned the ship and wanted to be Gisler's contact durin' the op. I said yes, naturally, and it actually worked out so well that I've decided that, in the future, I will always have either her or Kao t'Kt with me when I'm considerin' a boardin' op. Which now looks like a no-brainer that I should have thought of ages ago. At the very least I won't be alone in the blame should something go horribly wrong.

So, we jumped to the north gate of Ocrakoke's Storm and engaged the enemy. We used typhoon swarms to smash the larger fighters and wasps to catch the smaller ones. By the time we were close enough for a scan the larger fighters were toast. Now despite that carrack bein' full of marines Seldon gave her nod of approval. Apparently that crack team of Boron commandos didn't impress her any. Now by that point the Teladi commandin' that carrack had decided that we really needed to die and that she'd see to us herself. At that point, for the second time this week, I discovered that it's a bad idea to underestimate the Teladi. What I was expectin' to be a fairly one sided contest turned into an all-out, tooth and nail battle of wills. That carrack proved to be quick, agile, and very well armed with superb turret coverage. I ended up pushin' the Predator to her bloody limits in order to get the boardin' team aboard. By the time we broke contact the Predator's shields were beat to hell.

It was worth it, though. After finishin' off those light fighters I had the Predator move out of range of that carrack's guns. Then we waited for Gisler's team to clean the ship out and turn it over to me. All of our guys survived and between gettin' paid for the hit and sellin' that carrack to Thane it turned into a quick twenty three million credits. Funny thing though, even after we finished the job for him t'Chk was still furious. I didn't talk to him myself. I just really wasn't up to dealin' with his bull-shit today. But I was in the room while Seldon contacted him and I've got to say that I was not happy with what I overheard. He was abusive to Seldon and seems to have forgotten the terms we struck when I joined his clan. I mean I have to pay him tribute as my clan leader, and since he bailed Ea't out with the council he's got free energy for his ships and a piece of my energy business. But he does not get to give me orders.

In any case, once again I had to put my concerns on the back burner in order to take care of the present. I contacted the shipyard in Cloudbase Southeast, bought the factories I needed, and then contacted the captains of the Patriarch and the Salvage Crew II to give them instructions regarding where and how to deploy the stations I'd just purchased… which is when I discovered that Odin is missing.

Yep.

Odin took one of the Patriarch's shuttles over to the casino in Home of Light last night and never came back. Now at first I figured he was just holed up in a suite on that casino, maybe hung over or just distracted, but it turned out to be a little more sinister than that. When I spoke with Dav Corben, the XO of the Patriarch, I was informed that when Odin hadn't come back this mornin' they tried trackin' his comm unit, which is when things started gettin' scary. Not only was the son of a bitch not on the casino, Odin wasn't even in the sector. Corben then tried contactin' the casino to ask if they'd be willin' to look at their surveillance footage for us, hopin' that they could track Odin's movements and maybe find a lead, but the casino was givin' 'em the run around.

At which point I decided to have a chat with that casino's captain myself.

********

Met Hang was feeling overwhelmed. He was Captain of the Majestic, which was known to the locals as the Home of Light Casino. He had four argon military boys, two Argon military gals and nearly a dozen guys from a weekend long bachelor party all in the brig after a drunken brawl outside one of the VIP lounges. The military type's CO was demanding explanations. The bachelor partyers had wives calling to check on them, and Met was stuck playing warden, diplomat, and marriage counselor for his customers while trying to keep which call was which straight in his head. One of his dealers had been caught shuffling the deck in favor of a pair of goons, and Met thought the three of them had managed to steal nearly three hundred thousand credits over the past wozura. Then the goons had the nerve to threaten his ship after they'd been caught. Then, less than a stazura after the dealer and goons had been discovered, an auditor from the gaming commission called to say he'd be coming out for an inspection later today, and there was something about the timing that was tickling Met's bull-shit gravidar. And, to top it all off, the DESS Patriarch, a mammoth class TL, was demanding his surveillance footage, of all things, in order to track down their wayward captain, and they weren't letting it go no matter how many times he'd told them it wasn't going to happen. Which meant that it wasn't even ten in the morning and he already wanted to go back to bed.

"No!" he shouted over the comm. "I don't care what he feels like! You tell that malingering son of a bitch that I have an agent from the gaming commission coming out here and I need his records available right bloody well now! If he can't do that then he can try finding himself another job!" Met cut the comm and groaned. He could feel his heart beating in his temples and really wanted to visit med bay and have the doc make sure he wasn't going to get a migraine, but he couldn't seem to find the time. As if to prove the point his comm chirped in his ear.

"Yeah?" he growled.

"Captain," Talia Brano's voice said in his ear.

"Go ahead," he said with a groan, massaging his temples with one hand and trying not to pay attention to the bus boys getting ready to tip over a cart full of dirty dishes halfway down the corridor from him.

"We're being hailed, sir. They've asked to speak with you directly."

He shook his head. "If it's that Drakhar Enterprises TL again you tell them that 'no' means 'no' and they can bloody well stop calling. I'm not giving our security footage to anyone, for any reason short of a Federal warrant..."

"Uh, no sir," Talia interuped him. "It's..."

"Captain!" Karl Rogers, his XO and head of security cut through the comm channel.

Oh shit, Met groaned at the tone of alarm in his man's voice. "Don't tell me," he grumbled, "the Kha'ak have returned and there's a destroyer outside ravaging Home of Light..."

"Uh, no sir," Rogers said, "but a ship has just come up alongside us. It's blocking our launch bay and actively maintaining that position."

Met shook his head. "You gotta be kidding me. Get that idiot on the line and tell him that if he doesn't shove off we'll be contacting sector defense with..."

"Actually, Captain," Talia cut in again, "that's the ship that's hailing us."

Met stopped speaking. He felt a sudden wave of gooseflesh break out on his arms, and the short hairs on the back of his neck suddenly pricked up. "Show me," he said.

On the inside of his visor a window opened out of his direct line of sight. It showed the feed from one of the launch bay cameras. Just as Rogers said, a griffin sentinel was maintaining a relative position about half a kilometer off his starboard side. It was close enough to make any launch from his shuttle bay a risky proposition.

"Sir?" Rogers got his attention.

"Yeah, Karl?"

"Their weapons are active, Captain."

Met clenched his teeth. 'That's not unusual,' he reminded himself. 'Especially for a travelling warship.' "What's that ship's designation?" he asked.

"It's registered as the DESS Predator, Sir," Talia told him.

"The DESS Predator?" he echoed, feeling his skin tighten just a little more. "Another Drakhar Enterprises ship."

"Yes, sir," she reiterated.

'God damn it!' he cursed inside his head. "Alright," he grumbled. "Alright, I'm on my way." Less than two mizura later he stepped onto the Majestic's bridge. He glanced at Talia. "Put it on screen."

A moment later the holographic projector flickered into life above his bridge. The first thing Met saw was a lean, athletic looking man sitting in what looked like the captain's chair of the warship off his port side. The guy was leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees, and seemed to be talking to someone off camera.

"…yeah, well I don't give a shit who he thinks he is. I don't like the way he was talking to you and I don't like the… " He turned his head then, as if in response to someone pointing at the comm projector. He met Met's eye and for an instant Met didn't know what he was looking at. The guy's movements were slow and deliberate and Met's first impression was that he was looking at a tired, grizzled old veteran. Then he blinked and realized that the man before him was so young he could almost be called a boy.

Almost.

He had smooth, tanned skin that looked as if he'd spent time under the sun or some good full spectrum lights. Yet both his hair and eyes were uncommonly pale. The contrast was striking, but it was the intensity of the man's eyes that captured Met's attention. It was as if the kid's gaze had weight.

"Captain Hang?" the young old man greeted him , and there was a quiet authority to him that didn't seem possible for someone so young.

"I am," Met growled back. The instant the words were out of his mouth he realized that he was trying to compensate for suddenly feeling nervous. It was not an experience he was used to. "And you are?" he asked, trying to remain calm and in control.

The kid smiled. It was a thin, cold expression that made Met feel like the other guy was reading his mind. "My name's Drakhar," he said.

"Drakhar...?" Met asked expectantly.

"Just Drakhar."

"Okay 'just Drakhar'," Met stepped toward the camera, "is there a reason why you're blocking my departure bay?"

"There is," the guy replied smoothly. His eyes were so steady that it was hard to meet them.

After a moment Met realized that that was all the guy was going to say. He took a breath and looked around impatiently. Then he fixed the other guy with a glare. "Listen, Drakhar," he said, "I've got a lot on my plate right now. If you could kindly stop wasting my time I'd appreciate it."

The other guy nodded. He was still holding Met's eye. "Yeah," he said softly, "that would be exactly what I was thinkin'."

Met took a breath and glared at the other man. He realized his heart rate was elevated. It felt like an invisible hand squeezing his throat while a pair of very light fingers tapped away on his temples. "Look," he said, "I already told your man, Corben, that we're not in the habit of sharing our surveillance footage with anyone. This is a Casino. Giving you access to our cameras would compromise the security of this..."

"Security?" the other man smiled mockingly. "What security?"

Met felt another chill run over the skin of his neck, back and arms. He clenched his teeth and felt his face grow hard. "Now you listen here, 'Captain'," he growled, "I don't know what you're implying but I've been running this Casino for six jazura and I've never had an..."

The other man held up a hand. "Met?" the other guy said so smoothly that once again Met stopped talking. "I can call you 'Met' right?" he asked but then continued without waiting for an answer. "Met we're looking for a missing man. That man happens to be the captain of one of my ships. As such he's a valuable asset. He's also a member of my crew. As such I feel a certain responsibility to ensure that he's all right. I'm sure you can understand." Met opened his mouth but the other guy kept talking. He didn't shout or or bully. In fact the guy spoke so softly that Met had to strain just a little to hear him. "Now I understand that you're busy. I understand how demanding runnin' a business can be. But you have to understand this: I'm not going away without the information I require. I need to know what happened to my man."

Met held the other man's gaze for a long moment. While he did the other guy waited. Met didn't understand why he was so uncomfortable. The TCSS Majestic was a registered gaming establishment belonging to Terracorp. They were flying in Home of Light. Both the Argon military and Terracorp had a sizeable presence within comm range. So why did this kid scare him? "As I said," Met reiterated, "we're not in the habit of compromising our own security. I'm sure you can understand. So, like I told Corben, your man left this casino on a private transport with an unregistered flight plan. I'm sorry we can't help you. Perhaps you could talk to sector security..."

"You know we scanned your ship," the kid cut him off again, just as smooth as silk, "and I've gotta tell ya, I'm a little worried about you."

"You're worried about 'us'?" Met wanted to laugh in the kid's face, but couldn't quite manage it. "And why might that be?"

"Well," the man wore a sympathizing expression that Met didn't believe for a heartbeat, "for all your talk of security you don't actually have much." He turned to look at a screen that Met couldn't see. "You don't have any marines. You don't have any sentry lasers. You're central computer only has basic firewalls." He looked back to Met with a disapproving, worried expression. "Pretty shabby for a casino. Not to mention," he spread his hands, "that ship doesn't have any armament whatsoever." He smiled again, only this time something cold and hard cut through the mock sympathy on his face. "I'm just not sure you folks are prepared for the possibility of an attack."

"An attack!" Met scoffed. "In this sector?! With our shields?! We don't need to worry about an attack in Home of...!"

"Oh that shield wouldn't protect you," the young man said so matter of factly that Met actually did a double take. "I mean," the guy squinted at him, "hypothetically speakin', let's say an enemy was less than a kilometer off your starboard side and wanted to take that ship?"

Met felt his blood run cold.

"Four typhoon swarms would all but neutralize that one gig shield of yours. After that," the guy shrugged, "all it would take is some ion disruptors to maintain suppression and some Split-made tech to fine tune the transporter and, well hell, that enemy could beam a full boardin' party right onto your casino floor," the guy fixed him with a frozen stare, "and that shield wouldn't do a damn thing to stop him."

Met was vaguelly aware of his lips parting. He could feel the sudden tension in the air. His officers were starting to send concerned glances his way.

"Where it gets really scary, though," the guy went on, "is when you think about how fast all of that could happen. I mean, hell!" The guy chuckled softly while continuing to stare Met directly in the eye. "You could be dealin' with a team of hostile marines fannin' out from that fancy fountain by your poker tables in as little as thirty five sezura."

'Thirty five sezura!' Met all but reeled on his feet. In that time he'd barely have time to sound the alarm. No one would be in position. All the pressure doors on the ship would still be open. The idea of 'a full boarding party!' with automatic weapons, grenades, and ruthless experience… it wasn't possible. It couldn't happen!

Could it?

"Are you threatening me?" he asked.

"Me?!" the guy put a hand over his heart, sounding scandalized. "Threaten you?! Why no, sir! I'm just doin' my civic duty by pointin' out that you can never really underestimate just how vulnerable you are out here. I mean, with the effect of ion weaponry on your communications equipment, you wouldn't even be able to call for help. Which means a truly skilled pirate could be on the line with the local authorities while his marines were guttin' your security and hackin' through the firewalls to your central computer, assumin' the call took that long..."

Met felt a sudden wave of nausea. He felt as if he'd just fallen into a wild animal pen and found himself face to face with lion or tiger or something that wanted to eat him, and suddenly none of the things he'd believed in his whole life made any sense, or the slightest bit of difference.

"Hell," the guy said with a chilly smile, "I've heard of TL's like yours vanishin' so fast that nobody's ever quite sure just what happened to 'em. Which means that, you know, 'hypothetically speakin'? You could find yourself bein' sold into slavery down in Senator's Badlands just twenty mizura from…" that smile grew teeth, "...the time that first typhoon swarm hit your shield."

Later, Met would tell people that not a single member of his bridge crew so much as breathed. None of them had ever so much as thought about being boarded before. Not in Home of Light! Not within spitting distance of Terracorp! Not just one sector south of Argon One! Nobody would be that reckless!

Yet in that moment it was suddenly not only all too possible, it seemed like a distinct possibility. That pale eyed bastard wasn't speculating. He wasn't guessing. He knew exactly what he was talking about. Which suddenly made all the rumors floating around about Drakhar Enterprises and their connection with both the Phantoms and the Yaki seem very loud in the tense silence of his bridge.

"Ha!" Met suddenly found himself grinning from ear to ear. "You know," he said, spreading his hands and showing the other man his most accomodating smile, "considering the reputation of the Drakhar Enterprises Corporation, and the relationship that this casino would prefer to maintain between us, I think we can make an exception to our…ahm... existing policies and just go ahead and forward that footage to you."

"Thank you, Captain," the guy replied soflty, still holding Met's gaze. "I appreciate it." A moment later the projector winked out of existence and every person on the bridge collectively started breathing again.

********

"Jeez, Drake," Seldon snapped. "Layin' it on a little thick, weren'tcha?"

"What do you want from me, Tasha? That asshole was tryin' to send me to sec-def! And you know he wouldn't'a cooperated with them any more'n he was willin' to talk to me."

"Just remember that people talk, Drake!" she said. "I don't know if you were watching faces while you were scaring that guy half to tears, but I'm pretty sure everybody on the bridge of that ship needs a change of drawers right about now. He could be sold into slavery?! Since when do we sell prisoners?!"

"We don't," Drake spread his hands, "but he doesn't know that."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"When they send that footage over? Find Odin for me, will ya," he ordered, then stood and started for his stateroom.

"Sir, yes sir," she muttered at his back.

********

Yeah. So I got the captain of that casino to send us their security footage. They didn't send us all of it, but they did send everything with Odin in the frame, which actually made our job easier.

*sigh*

Seldon thinks I overdid it with the captain. She's probably right but I can't really bring myself to give a shit. I mean what can I say? The sunnuva bitch annoyed me. He actually tried to send me to sec-def instead of just helpin' me out. Like those assholes would spend one bloody sezura worryin' about one of my crew. So… yeah. I-ah… you know… pointed out how easy it would be for an experienced crew to take his ship, and what some of the consequences of that could be. After that he was very accomodatin'.

Right. So, while Seldon and my the techies were findin' out what happened to Odin I made sure the Patriarch and Salvage Crew II were buildin' my stations. The Patriarch dropped the two for Thane, which was roughly another fifteen mil in the bank. Once that was done I sent them back up to Cloudbase Southeast while the Salvage Crew II started buildin' onto my new e-plex. While my ships were runnin' back and forth to CBSE I sat and watched my for-profit complexes turn over.

I'm actually findin' myself very intrigued by the potential the Emporium has. Nova Somnia makes me roughly a million or so an hour. It's been very steady for weeks. But that new Emporium? Well, that Emporium may just be one of the better ideas I've had in a long while. It made twenty million credits in just six hours, granted most of that was from sellin' the overflow off the Endless. But even after I added those new stations I couldn't keep it stocked with chips, quantum tubes, computer components or crystals. So after a little math I decided that I was gonna expand it. Now, after buildin' on it all day, the Emporium consists of:

8 Chip Plants
6 Quantum Tube Fabs
4 Computer Plants
2 Crystal Fabs
1 Rimes Fact L
1 Teladianium Foundry L

as well as all the support factories:

6 large Cattle Ranches
6 large Cahoona Bakeries
1 large Wheat Farms
and 5 Silicon Mines [31,31,28,28,28]

And right now? I still can't keep microchips, quantum tubes, computer components, or crystals in stock. They literally sell so fast that I never see any accumulate. So that's a no-brainer, right? I'll just keep buildin' more of those factories until my supply equalizes demand. I actually would have bought more computer plants and crystal fabs already but the computer components woulda meant takin' a trip into Omly and the Crystal Fabs require more silicon and, well, I just couldn't be arsed today. Also, would you believe that even with the new loop on that e-plex I'm still gonna need more energy? Nova Somnia eats thirty six thousand cells an hour. But the Emporium? It's now goin' through about a hundred and twenty thousand cells an hour. The energy-plex in Savage Spur produces one hundred and fifty one thousand cells surplus. Which means I'm still in a deficit. So that's on the agenda for tomorrow… assumin' I get out of bed to bother.

What can I say? I'm depressed. I still feel like somebody blasted a hole right through the middle of everything I am. But, you know? Oddly enough workin' helps. I mean on the one hand it feels like I'm just distractin' myself from how bad I'm hurtin', but on the other it actually is fillin' the void. And it has tangible, real world benefits. Like a shit-load of money. I mean the Emporium has made eighty million credits since I built it. I mean, once again, a lot of that is just from movin' the surplus from the Endless but… so what? That's a magnificent sum of money considerin' that it's only been runnin' for a day and a half. I mean hell! Another day like that and it'll pay for itself and start earnin' me profit. So, yeah, that'll probably be what I focus on tomorrow. My only real problem is that, at some point, I'm gonna run out of silicon to mine in Savage Spur. It's not an immediate concern. There're still quite a few medium yield roids up there, but eventually I am gonna run out.

Heh. At which point I guess I'll just have to find somewhere else to build. Is it strange that I've already got a couple of ideas?

You know every once in a while I still turn around and just find myself in awe at my life. I mean today sucks. It really does. With Gin leavin' I feel so empty, and every time I stop doin' somethin' to keep my mind occupied, I just sit here starin' at this enormous hole in my life. But at the same time I'm sittin' here creatin' somethin'... awesome. You know it's actually become apparent to me that buildin' is where my power lies. I'm good at it. It even satisfies somethin' in me that I don't really understand. Not to mention the fact that, good bloody God! Is it profitable. I mean right now, between Nova Somnia, the Emporium, and sellin' the surplus from the Alpha Complex, I can generate nearly ten million an hour just by sittin' on my ass!

But it's not just the money. When I step back and look at it, it seems so obvious. It's not starships with lasers and missiles. It's my ability to build and then produce. Granted, for that I need starships with lasers and missiles. It is an ugly goddamn universe, after all. But it's my ability to build stations, create complexes, and produce goods and services that gives me the most power. Granted, it's a symbiotic relationship between ships and stations. The ships protect the stations. The stations supply the ships and enable me to purchase more. And because of that I now weild a significant amount of influence in the galaxy. Through the Yaki I have access to some of the most powerful shot callers around. Through Ea't and H'nt I have access to the Patriarch of the Split Dynasty. And if a man is to be measured by his enemies, well, I don't know if you can get much bigger than the Sol system. And why? Cos I have the ability to build, to produce, and to earn. So yeah, I'm probably just gonna keep growin' in Savage Spur for a while. And when it's no longer profitable or feasible I'll build somewhere else.

...

Yeah, so anyway, while I was starin' at my stations, Seldon told me the story of what Odin did on that casino. He gambled. He flirted. He humiliated the CBSE dockmaster, a position of dramatically less authority than the one Thane enjoys, and then he left with a bunch of guys that looked like gorillas in suits. Seldon said they were mercs of some kind, with military trainin'. I asked how she knew and she pointed at how they formed up around Odin, and the way they moved through corridors. Somebody was always lookin' in all directions. Well, those mercs escorted Odin to a kea docked at the casino. She then tracked that kea to President's End, where it met up with a caravel TM. Shortly after the kea docked, that caravel jumped away. Which meant that wherever Odin was he was out of my reach. The best I could do was flag the kea and caravel's IFF id's and hope they turned up later.

Hoo! I tell yah. Another of my people disappearin' in just twelve hours does not exactly do wonders for my disposition.

********

"What happened?!" Hayla demanded.

Seldon shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Odin," she said.

Hayla's face hardened. "What did that asshole do?"

Seldon met the other woman's eyes. "He vanished," she said.

"Vanished?!" Hayla exclaimed. "What the hell does that mean?"

Seldon quickly explained the events on the casino. "We don't know why but he left with those goons," she finished. "We tracked the ship but once they jump..." she shrugged.

"Do you think they were forcing him?" she asked.

Seldon shrugged. "I didn't see a weapon," she said.

"Well, a gun's not the only way to coerce someone."

Seldon nodded. "That's true," she said, "but that's not the impression I got. To me it looked like whoever was on the other end of that call talked him into going."

Hayla scowled. Then there was a crash from Drake's stateroom. It sounded like he just threw a bottle of whiskey.

"Oh hell," Hayla cursed. Then, to Sergeant Bro, "lemme in there, will ya?"

Seldon nodded when Bro glanced at her. A moment later Hayla went in to deal with the kid, and before the hatch closed she smelled the alcohol. "Oh hell," she muttered and Sergeant Mayenne Bro briefly met Seldon's eye. Seldon shook her head and started to walk away. "I need a drink," she stated to no one in particular.

********

Yeah. I had a long lunch… of the liquid variety. Then Hayla got mad at me and took the bottle away. Well, actually, she took the second bottle away. I broke the first one by smashin' it against the window in my stateroom. Yeah, I know. It was real mature. Hayla pointed that out at length. Then she tried makin' me go to sleep but…

What can I say? The bed was empty. I mean it's been empty for a week, now, but… I don't know. It was different. I ended up just lyin' there for an hour or two, starin' out inta space and bein' angry. Eventually I sobered up, then I got bored. Then I just got up. By then it was nearly fifteen hundred. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I was still angry. And I was also a little hung over. Fortunately there was some good news waitin' for me.

Aye. The Sisyphus was full again. Which means that Thane is now just about tickled to death. I didn't do it in person, or even via vid comm as I really just didn't want to talk to anybody, let alone a guy who's normal speakin' volume is roughly ten decibles louder than one of my susanowas durin' take off, but I did coordinate another delivery of Nividium to him. He then sent me a very loud "thank you". In writing. How the man manages to be loud even through the written word I couldn't tell you, but he manages it. But either way, my headache notwithstanding, that's another hundred million credits in the pot.

Even more better?

There's still plenty of that big asteroid left in Spires of Elusion. The last time I checked there are still about forty nav markers for my miners to follow. Which means I may have now underestimated the number of shipments I can deliver to Thane. Which is, by far, the safer of the two options. Unfortunately the pirates are still up there frackin' with my minin' fleet. At about sixteen hundred I got a pair of messages tellin' me that I'd lost two fighters up that way. It pissed me off a bit, but at least both pilots survived. I decided to take a trip up that way, deliver a couple of replacement fighters, and get a pretty good idea regardin' how much more of that asteroid is left. So after buyin' the fighters from Thane, then strugglin' to get 'em outfitted… I need to build some HEPT and PRG forges… I finally bounced up to Spires and gave myself an education.

I've gotta say, I'm actually really pleased with the yield from this roid. Where the two in Depths of Silence were just pitiful, the one up in Spires is actually fillin' up my TL again. I'm not countin' on another full load from it, but judgin' by the number of markers, each of which indicates a rock with nividium to mine, and the rocks that I could see my miners workin' and I figure that, at the very least, the operation should be good until sometime after I get some actual shuteye tonight. Although I do expect to have to move 'em sometime tomorrow.

With that in mind I decided to check out the roid next door in Teladi country, mostly just to get a good idea regardin' how much to expect from it. It's not as big as the one we're workin' now but, even so, it's not exactly diminutive, either. Also, those other rocks floatin' nearby have the same composition. I tried scannin' 'em but for some reason the scanner doesn't like the little rocks. So I took a sample and had my science officer give me an analysis. As far as he can tell they're all the same rock. So, once we finish sweepin' up Spires of Elusion the minin' fleet will get to start in CEO's Wellspring.

Right. So by then it was a little after seventeen hundred and by then Ea't and Chinomu were practically gangin' up on me about this rapid response fleet that I want to put together. Not together, mind you. They just called and messaged me. A lot. Ea't's just excited about the prospect of gettin' to do somethin' more interestin' than shootin' at spaceflies in Weaver's Tempest, but Chinomu? Well, Chinomu wants a timeline. She wants to know when we're gettin' the Panthers. That way she can… hell, I don't know. Arrange for more flight simulators, and start supply chains for food, blankets, and teddy bears, or whatever the hell her pilots need. Hell if I know. She does good work but sometimes I feel like she's a jackhammer and I'm concrete. And between the two of 'em I was gettin' a little tired of sayin' "I don't know yet." Cos I don't. Cos when I looked into placin' an order for those Panthers I discovered that the Split still aren't exactly over that cobra prototype that went missin' last week, and some damn fool thinks I had somethin' to do with it.

Heh.

Yeah. So I guess tomorow I'm gonna have to get to work on makin' nice with 'em. In the meantime, though? I need some goddamn sleep.

********

Dav Corben was tired. He'd always thought the Patriarch's captain was useless, an overgrown man-child who's fondness for practical jokes was surpassed only by his fondness for gambling, which in turn was only surpassed by his fondness for female company. Dav had believed, from the very first day, that he would make a far better captain than Odin, and he'd been waiting for the chance to prove it since the day the other man was installed as his superior. After twelve hours in the big chair, however, he'd learned differently. He'd learned it very well. He now understood the truth. Odin wasn't useless, irresponsible, or a fool. On the contrary, the man was a master commander, an absolute natural in the big chair who made delegating authority, streamlining productivity, and getting things done look so easy that most of the time it felt like the job was taking care of itself.

Dav collapsed into a padded chair in the crew quarters common area and took a long pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. He couldn't believe how many things he'd managed to frak up in just one day. What he found really humbling was that, thinking back on his time serving under Odin, the older man had always very casually taken care of everything; energy cells were always stocked, manifests were always double checked, orders were always called back. Moreso, the older man had such a soft touch that there were almost never any ruffled feathers amongst the crew. More often than not people were laughing or just rolling their eyes. The man came across as a goofball, a practical joker, even a fool… and the whole time what he'd really been was a maestro, masterfully conducting the orchestral actions of his ship.

"Frak me," Dav said out loud, and took another pull from his beer.

"Oh you did all right, honey," Ruby told him as she walked by.

"All right?" he echoed. "I don't think this ship engaged in a single exercise today that went off without a hitch."

"Yeah," she agreed with him and opened the fridge. "There is that. But do you know what Odey tells me when I screw up?"

Dav rolled his eyes. "No," he said, "what does he tell you?"

"He says, 'Ruby,'" she giggled, "'is the ship still flying?'" She took a beer out of the fridge, along with an ice cream bar. "'And I always tell him, 'yeah', you know?" She sat down on the chair next to Dav and handed him her bottle of beer. They were twist off, but she never opened her own bottles on account of her nails. He took it without complaint. "'And then he says, 'Then you musta done all right.'" He handed her the bottle back and flipped the cap into a nearby trash can. "So Dav?" she asked him. "Is the ship still flyin'?"

He chuckled, "yes Ruby. It is."

"Then you musta done alright."

He met her eye and smiled. "Thanks," he told her, and meant it.

She leaned back in her chair and smiled at him. "Anytime," she said and raised her beer. "Here's to the end of your first day as captain!"

"I'll drink to that," he said and lifted his beer to his lips.

"XO!" Jak Smathy called to him from the corridor to the bridge.

Dav rolled his eyes. "Is the ship on fire?!"

"Uh… no, sir?"

"Then I don't want to know."

"It's the captain, sir. He's in Elena's Fortune and needs us to come get him."

[Triaxx2]

Her name, was not actually C'lt Frty-Fv. That was an affection, taken from the histories of the humans, Argon and Terran alike, that she'd found quite appealing for reasons that didn't quite make sense to her.

Her real name was considerably longer. She'd spent an idle afternoon tracking down it's full length, given the Clan affiliations she was eligible to claim, and titles, both extant and elsewise extinct, to which she could lay at least a reasonable claim. It also included every clan name with a few exceptions that hadn't lasted more than a generation. Her family it seemed, had decided the best way to avoid being wiped out by clan warfare, was to intermingle to such an extent that they couldn't be attacked without the attacker also declaring war on themselves, and being forced by mutual defense pacts to attack themselves. One of her aunts told a possibly truthful anecdote of one clan member being informed of this, and then to begin punching himself in the face, while fighting back.

The aunt had been sober, but hadn't laughed quite as hard as C'lt expected. Of course since it was an anecdote about her uncle, she decided not to check into it.

Drake turned out to be harder to track down than expected. This wasn't the sort of message she wanted broadcast, even though Legion had assured her it wouldn't be readable to anyone but him and Drake. She'd attempted to land on the Predator, but almost at the same time as a docking clamp became free, it jumped out of the sector. She considered following it, but he was obviously off to shoot someone, which could only help his mood, and so it wouldn't be polite to bother him. He did still maintain quarters on other ships, and she found herself landing on the Necromancer.

The door was locked, and guarded. The Marine guarding it was clearly new and had yet to have a proper reaming out. C'lt provided it. He called his superiors. Or rather started to, but realized at some point during her 'explanation', he'd bumped his comm to open, and most of his superiors were laughing too hard to confirm that she should be allowed in. Finally one of them recovered enough breath to tell him to let her in, and he opened the door for her. She laid the pre-written note on the table, and walked out.

---

Great chapter. Nice work.

[Zaitsev]

Mmm, wonder what Odin has gotten himself into this time ... And you somehow managed to make a cliffhanger out of that, which kind of boggles my mind ...

Also, all the squees!

[Olterin]

Mmmm.... Odin, Odin, Odin, what have you gotten yourself involved in this time (Damn cliffhanger, every second bit being a cliffhanger *pulls hair out*)

... I shall patiently await the next bit, now please excuse me kind sirs, I shall squee in this corner here.

[Jonzac]

Love the next step. Like a bit of calm before the storm

[Scion Drakhar]

Thanks fellas.

[Tohron]

Good luck on the next chapter Scion!

[Scion Drakhar]

Thanks Tohron. Consider me nudged.

[Nathancros]

Great work as always scion!

God i missed this!

Hopefully RL has stopped kickin me up the ass and i can rejoin the fun!

Seems Odin is already HAVING fun. you and them bloody cliffhangers i swear mate!

[Zaitsev]

Ey, Nathancros is back! *waves and offer a cookie*

[Nathancros]

*waves and offer a cookie*

COOKIE!? Mate you better have a BAG of those! Im hungry for more cookies. and more CHAPTERS

[Zaitsev]

*waves and offer a cookie*

COOKIE!? Mate you better have a BAG of those! Im hungry for more cookies. and more CHAPTERS

*brings a whole ten liter bucket of cookies and sit down next to Nathan to wait for new chapters*

[Nathancros]

*waves and offer a cookie*

COOKIE!? Mate you better have a BAG of those! Im hungry for more cookies. and more CHAPTERS

*brings a whole ten liter bucket of cookies and sit down next to Nathan to wait for new chapters*

YES! COOOOKIIIIES!! Nom nom

Now. we sit and prepare the BIG SQUEE!

[Olterin]

... I heard there were cookies on offer?

*Pokes author impatiently* Any rough guess as to how long the wait will be this time, Scion? (Orders of magnitude would be nice to know, at least)

[Zaitsev]

YES! COOOOKIIIIES!! Nom nom

Now. we sit and prepare the BIG SQUEE!

I'll warm up my vocal cords

... I heard there were cookies on offer?

Sure! I got a whole pallet full of 'em

*hand Olterin some cookies*

I think you better be quick, Scion, otherwise we're gonna be a whole gang hopped up on sugar here ...

[Triaxx2]

Patience guys. He'll finish when he finishes. Nothing at all will speed him up, and speed will only make it worse. Just be patient.

[Sirrobert]

I wonder how speed would help with the writing

[Zaitsev]

Patience guys. He'll finish when he finishes. Nothing at all will speed him up, and speed will only make it worse. Just be patient.

All right, all right ...

*sits back down*

Want a cookie?

[Scion Drakhar]

81. Hidden Blades

Hollow.

That's the word that keeps goin' through my mind.

Hollow.

Like a tree hit by lightnin'... or an empty beer can. Used up and thrown away.

It's been a struggle not to get angry. And there's this bitterness that's been creepin' into my thoughts. I keep tellin' myself that she must have her reasons. It's just that, not knowin' what they are, all I really know is that she left and it frakkin' hurts.

When I woke up I was alone. Not just in bed, mind you. That's somethin' I got used to a while ago. Gin almost always wakes up before me, and most of the time she gets up and lets me sleep. So wakin' up alone in bed didn’t hurt. No. It was wakin' up and rememberin' that she's gone. That she's not in the next room. She's not on the bridge. She's not on another ship. She’s not in the fleet or on one of the stations. She's gone. And I don't know where, or why, or… anything. I don't even know whether or not she intends to come back. I'm worried, ya'know? But worse than bein' worried? I'm angry, and that anger is gettin' harder and harder to ignore. I don't understand this shit. I don't get it. And havin’ more questions than answers…

You know, believe it or not, I think it actually hurts more today than it did yesterday. Yesterday I… I think I was numb. I'm not numb today. Yesterday I felt like I was blowin in the wind. It was hard to think and hard to focus and I just kept checkin' out. The lights were on but nobody was home, you know?

Today?

Well today I feel like I've got this massive hole in my chest, and it frakkin' hurts. The image my mind keeps attachin’ to it is like I've been shot and the hole is still smokin' and bleedin'. It hurts all the goddamn time. It hurts so bad that I keep havin' to remind myself not to take it out on the people around me. I keep havin’ to turn away from conversations cos the pain just literally took my breath away, and when folks make demands on my attention I have to resist the urge to turn around and bite.

Or shoot.

Yesterday people were worried about me. Seldon and my Ma were followin' me around makin' sure I remembered to do things like breathe and go to the bathroom. I saw sympathy and concern in the faces around me. Today? Today people are steppin' light, keepin' their heads down, and avoidin' makin' eye contact. Seldon's been helpin' with that a bit. She, at least, is able to back me onto my heels and intercede when I want to do somethin' I'd probably regret later; like shoot somebody in the face for givin' me bad news, or launch nuclear tipped torpedoes at an ally who happens to be really goddamn irritatin'.

Or… ignore my Ma.

Right. So, where to begin? At the beginning, I suppose.

All right. So shortly after I woke up I was informed that Odin had not only been found, he was on board and waitin' to speak with me. Naturally I made him wait. Odin gets on my nerves at the best of times and first thing this mornin' was not the best of times. I felt raw and exposed and I just did not want to be in that man's presence while feelin' that way. Besides, he'd already been here all night and whatever he had to say apparently wasn't important enough for anybody to wake me.

*sigh*

Yeah. Turns out that it was but he decided to keep it to himself until he could talk to me face to face. I swear that that man has turned irritatin' me into an art form.

Right, so anyway, I took my time wakin' up. I ran on the treadmill. I stretched. I went through my yoga routine, and I finished with some resistance trainin'. Legion and I have been workin' together to continue improvin' my strength, reflexes, and overall conditionin'. He's been givin' me guidelines for everythin' from diet to exercise to sleep schedules. Yeah. Heh. He keeps tellin' me that I need to sleep both more and more regularly. Apparently stayin' awake for 24 hours at a stretch isn't good for me.

Go figure.

Right. So, while I was havin' breakfast, I checked on my business. I started with the accounts in my stations. There was over fifty million credits sittin' in the Emporium account, which is frakkin' amazin' considerin' that I emptied it of all but ten million at seventeen hundred yesterday. Which means it made forty million credits in just thirteen hours without any bloody input from me. Unfortunately it was also obvious that I'd be runnin' into energy issues in the very near future. Even with the new e-loop that I installed yesterday, and tellin' the freighters supplyin' Nova Somnia only to work on keepin' it above fifty thousand cells… cos it actually has quite the stockpile… it was obvious that I'd need to build another loop in order to keep everythin' runnin'. So I made a few notes, ran some figures, and decided to expand my new Emporium… err… startin’ with another energy loop.

Then I checked on my traders, who keep wanderin' into Grand Exchange and gettin' shot at. I try not to think about it cos there's really nothin' I can do about it, which annoys me. I'd really like to blacklist that sector. I mean most of the time they do jump away before my ships take any damage, but every time they get targeted they deploy drones, which is good. Those drones keep the enemy distracted and gives my ships time to jump away. But it also costs me both the price of the drones and the time it takes the trader to replace ‘em. I mean I know it's just pinchin' pennies but it irks me, ya know? And all they'd have to do to avoid so much of that headache…is stay the hell out of that sector.

It's a giant bloody sector that tends to be infested with Xenon! Stay the hell out of there! But no, somewhere in the fine print of the contract these jackasses handed me someone managed to slip some crap into the fine print that specifies that they have the implicit right to be morons.

Grrr.

Right. So… movin' on.

The minin' outfit collected another eight thousand units of nividium... aaand got hit by pirates again durin' the night. Several of my ships were damaged, which I'll have to address at some point. I didn't lose anybody, though, and I'm guessin' that since they're not still harrassin' my ships the pirates weren't so lucky. So I'll consider that a win and just plan on dockin' those freighters at the Necromancer or Endless in the near future. Then my mechanics should be able to hammer out the dents. Yeah, apparently neither of my minin' fleet TLs can dock a freighter, which is kinda feelin' like an oversight and may be somethin' I want to correct in the future. Although I suppose that’ll depend on whether or not I find enough nividium to keep the project goin'. Other'n that it was a pretty routine mornin'... you know, once you overlook the gapin' hole in my life.

Right.

So when I was done with breakfast I met Seldon, and before I could even get a 'good mornin' out of my mouth she jumped down my throat about S'jar t'Chk. Apparently he's been an asshole all mornin'. I remember tryin' to say somethin' cute like 'just this mornin', but she rolled right over me. Yeah. She was really worked up. Apparently t'Chk has been callin' every ten to fifteen mizura and just pissin' all over her and my bridge crew. I'm honestly not sure why he's been such a shit the last couple days, or why he's suddenly demandin' that I jump through hoops for him. He never seemed to care what I do before. Hell, up until a couple days ago bein' a member of the Se'tjak Clan has been a pretty easy gig. Now all of a sudden t'Chk is callin' me up and demandin' that I obey the leash, which is somethin' he was never supposed to do.

So yeah, I started the day off feelin' annoyed with him. Mostly cos he actually succeeded in pissin' Seldon off, which is somethin' of a feat, actually. I mean I manage it at least once a day but I think I'm somethin' of a special case with her. But the fact that he managed it means he must have been worse to her today than he was yesterday, and yesterday he was bloody abusive. So I'm thinkin' that he and I may need to have a discussion here before long.

*sigh*

Right. So, yeah. It took a while to get the details cos Seldon had to blow off some steam, loudly and at length, but eventually I did manage to find out what t'Chk wanted. It wasn't complicated. He wanted me to kill more people for him. I don't know why he wanted 'em dead. Nor do I know why he didn't just deal with the problem himself. But it was light work so I just rolled my eyes and got it done. Or, to be precise, I had Ea't do it. It was just half a dozen fighters or so and, judgin' by the smile on his face, I think Ea’t was glad for the distraction anyway. Before he let me go, though, he did ask me about the panthers again and I told him I was workin' on it. Which I'm not, but I mean to. I suspect that later today I will be workin' for the Split, who have yet to clear my name in the case of their missin' Cobra prototype and the renegade boomer captain what tried to steal it.

Heh heh heh.

Yeah.

Right, and while that was goin' on Thane messaged and asked for several deliveries. He wanted a few hundred crates of delaxian wheat for his rimes fact and a large shipment of space fuel to the shipyard. Neither was an issue. I had both on hand and the man, as always, pays very well for my services. So I gave a few orders to make it happen and then decided to start my day in earnest. So, first things ever bein' first, I met with my wayward ship captain and heard what he had to say… and reminded myself not to shoot him for it.

********

Odin settled his bulk against the doorjamb and admired the view. He was standing at the entrance to the ship's forward observation deck and, a few meters from where he stood, two meter thick windows composed of transparent layers of crystallized silicon, polyethylene, and transparent alloys separated the fragile people on his side of the glass from the cold and deadly void beyond. Beyond those windows, to the left and right of the glass, he could see the layers of armor that composed the outer hull, and the half-meter-thick blast shielding loomed above, ready to slam into place when the ship went into battle.

But in that moment all was calm. The windows were crystal clear, and beyond all that hardware the distant light of a pale golden star just breasted the edge of a delicate silver planet. It was a quiet, peaceful moment. Yet for some reason Odin felt distinctly aware of how the peace, the calm, and the stillness were constructs of perception. No matter how still it seemed from relative positions, everything was always in motion. The planet before him was falling through the dark at tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of kilometers per hour, and he along with it. The peaceful sunrise was the result of forces so powerful that they defied understanding, and down on that surface life continued it’s brutal and deadly dance. So he knew the calm was an illusion, but it was a precious one; a gift before the coming of the next inevitable storm.

He smiled at the thought and the stunning sight before him, painted in stark contrasts of light and darkness by the pale light of the nearby sun. Impossibly distant stars burned in the depths of the abyss, and beside them the emptiness was so stark that it felt as if the void itself had substance, that the absence of matter and energy was, itself, a force and an entity to be reckoned with. And within that void the stars burned, the sun shone, and clouds swirled across the surface of a small, beautiful planet that was wrapped in night's embrace like a babe in the arms of it's mother. The pale golden light of its parent star, so close and yet ever so far away, felt like heaven's own blessing upon the face of the planet and himself both. Yet as grand the moment and as glorious the view, somehow he only had eyes for the woman standing between himself and it.

Hayla hadn't heard him. She stood quiet and still, gazing out the window in silent contemplation. To him she seemed small and graceful, beautiful in ways he'd never be able to put into words. Her hair was a fiery corona about her head. Her silken robes swept from her shoulders to the floor, thin enough to reveal her shadow but thick enough to obscure it. She had her eyes closed as the sun shone upon her face, and her hands were clasped before her, just above her heart. He knew that she was praying for the boy she'd adopted. She wouldn't admit it, of course. During one of their talks she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she thought the idea of some invisible being watching from the heavens, judging peoples lives and actions to be as ridiculous as the notion of a fat man sliding down chimneys to give children treats. But, even so, he knew that that was what she was doing, the way all mothers pray for the children they love. Hayla's boy was a man now, of course. One who'd grown to command not only the ship they were standing upon but the fleet that ship belonged to; a man so fearsome that the greatest militaries in the galaxy had come to respect and even to fear him; a man who'd come from nothing and yet gathered wealth and power around him through a combination of will and luck that was like nothing Odin had ever witnessed before. Yet, to Hayla, that man would forever be the defenseless boy she'd cared for; her son, by blood or not. Odin watched her and, for just a moment, wondered what it would be like to be so completely devoted to anything.

After a while he looked down at the carpet and cleared his throat. In his periphery he saw her turn, startled and angry. He gave her a moment to see him before looking up and smiling at her. She held his eye angrily for a moment, then turned away with a muttered curse and a shake of her head. He chuckled to himself and crossed the floor to her side.

"You scared the hell out of me," she accused him.

"Oh I think it'd take a lot more than me to accomplish that, my love," he teased her.

She turned and fixed him with a glare. After a moment he turned and met her eye, allowing his mirth to swell in his gaze. "Hmmph!" she snorted at him. "Your 'love', huh?"

He grinned and, again, she turned away with a shake of her head, although this one wasn't quite as angry. "So," he said, "I hear the girlfriend's gone missing."

She gave him a brief, angry look and then ignored him.

"The kid's taking it rough?"

"She's his first real love," Hayla told him, as if that explained everything.

"Aah," he sighed dramatically. "Love's sweet sorrow. The bitter thorn for every rose."

"You're an asshole," she informed him.

"'Tis true," he said, mocking contrition. "I am."

For a moment neither of them said anything. Then her worry broke the silence. "He's so young," she said. "He's never had his heart broken like this before."

Odin said nothing. He suspected that Hayla was mistaken. If he had to, he'd wager that heartbreak was something her boy was intimately familiar with, in one form or another. He turned his head and took a moment to study her profile. She had a proud face; strong, high cheekbones, a bold nose, hard eyes. Sometimes she reminded him of nothing so much as an eagle ready to stoop and strike. After a moment she turned to fix him with both of her bright, hazel-green eyes. After a moment she arched an eyebrow. "What?" she asked him. "You got somethin' to say?"

Odin chuckled again. "No ma'am," he said. "Just admiring the view," he said with his eyes fixed on hers.

"Hmmph!" she snorted, still watching him with those fierce, pitiless eyes. "Have you ever loved something so much it hurts?" She asked him. "Or is everything just a joke to you?"

For an instant Odin thought of a storm, of waves that pounded the seaside cliffs for days, waves high enough to flood a small town and smash even the big yachts to flotsam. He saw Hayla's eyes grow even more intent upon his and an instant later he forced himself to smile even more broadly. "Maybe everything is just a game to me because I once loved something so much it hurt." Her eyes narrowed. She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. After a moment he laughed and put an arm around her shoulders. "Or maybe you're right," he said, "and I'm just an asshole without depth, consideration, or conscience."

She snorted again and rolled her eyes, but he felt her relax and lean against him. For a time they stood in silence, gazing through the window at the turning of an alien world. Then Hayla broke the silence. "I hear you had an exciting night," she said offhandedly.

He chuckled and thought of the waitress. "Aye," he agreed, "though not in the way I was hoping for."

She snorted angrily, as if she'd read his mind, and leaned away from him. "You really are a cad, you know that?"

"Aye," he agreed. "I know." Then he grinned and pulled her close again. "But that's why you love me..."

"Love you?!" She laughed and pulled against his arm. "You have got some nerve, buddy." She shook his hand off, stepped back and met his eye. "You know what the saddest thing is? I think that I could have loved you. I really do. But you!" She jabbed him in the chest with one hard finger. "The instant you were off the Endless you were chasing skirts, weren't you? How long did it take you to find your way into another woman's bed? Huh?! Was it the very first night?!"

Odin said nothing. He only smiled and waited.

She scoffed and took another step away. "And you didn't even have the guts to tell me yourself! You just let the rumors find their way back to me! Do you know how humiliated I felt?! Wondering if everyone else in the fleet knew what you were up to while I just waited, thinking you were coming back?! You're a piece of work, Odin! Do you know that?"

He held her eyes and smiled. "Yes ma'am," he said. "I know."

There was a rap at the doorway. Both of them turned and saw Chief Seldon standing in the corridor. She was wearing a dark blue dress uniform, a sidearm, and a very dry expression. Her eyes were hard as she stared at Odin. "He wants to see you," she told him.

Odin smiled at her. "Of course he does." Hayla scoffed behind him. He met her eye and winked. Hayla shook her head in disbelief as he turned to Seldon. "Lead on, Chief."

A few moments later they were at the hatch to the kid's stateroom. The marine on duty announced them and a moment later the hatch opened. Chief Seldon motioned him forward and he stepped through into a pleasant, even luxurious accommodation. Cream colored walls and carpets were framed by what appeared to be real woodwork. Models of starships were displayed in glass cabinets between collections of real books and odd knick knacks. In one cabinet he saw what looked like a hand-made eye patch, for instance, with a skull and crossbones made of odd bits of metal and gemstone. It looked like something a child would make on craft day in school, yet it rested on a velvet cushion. Beside it was a dark whiskey bottle, with an atrocious logo, on display as if it was a rare treasure. Beside that was a scarred helmet belonging to a suit of combat armor. It was coated with a black film and crusted with char and what looked like dried blood.

"You wanted to see me?" Drake asked.

Odin turned his head and came face to face with the kid’s enormous Split bodyguard. The Split glared at him with a pair of impossibly blue eyes and, despite an utterly expressionless face, Odin understood that one wrong move on his part would result in this Split immediately ending his existence. Odin smiled at the monster and winked. The giant's eyes narrowed by perhaps the thickness of an eyelash.

Beyond the Split the kid was standing behind a wooden desk with three open holographic displays hovering in the air before him. His brow was furrowed as he made adjustments to one chart and carried figures from one screen to another. As he worked a small plume of smoke drifted upward from the cigar in his hand. There were several cups on his desk, one of which was clear and obviously held water and ice. The other appeared to be stainless steel, had a spill-proof lid, and Odin smelled coffee.

"Actually," Odin replied, stepping past the Split, "you want me to see you."

"I rather doubt that," the kid said, and made another change to one of the tables on display before him. To Odin it looked like some kind of balance sheet with green credits and red debits, but it was backward and blurry from his side of the desk, so he couldn't be sure.

"Aah, Drake," he said, "one of these days I'm gonna win you over. I just know it."

The kid sighed heavily, then looked up from the holographic images between them. In that moment Odin saw the exhaustion and weariness weighing down on the boy. He saw the flare of anger in the kid's eyes. "Odin," Drake started but Odin quickly cut him off.

"It was Gil," he said, and the kid stopped speaking. For a moment the kid was stunned. Then his eyes hardened and it felt as if the temperature in the room dropped five degrees.

"Gil Jerigan?" the kid asked in the soft, deadly way he used when he was genuinely considering murder.

Odin nodded and plopped down in one of the chairs facing the kid's desk. "Yep," he said with a contented sigh. The bloody chair was almost impossibly comfortable. "He has some information for you."

"You 'spoke' with Gil Jerigan?" the kid asked, and the question sounded like a blade being drawn from its scabbard.

Odin blinked, smiled, and nodded. "Ah-yep," he said. "I thought we'd established that already."

The kid leaned forward onto his desk and glared at Odin with eyes the same color as icebergs under a clear sky. "Gil Jerigan had you taken off that casino? Met with you? Spoke with you?" The kid leaned forward dangerously. "And you waited ‘til this mornin' to inform me?"

Odin was suddenly aware of the big Split straightening up by the door, the physical extension of the threat in the kid's voice. "Well," he said, "I came right here but they wouldn't exactly let me walk into your bedroom, now would they?"

The kid straightened and for an instant Odin thought he was about to come around the desk at him. Then the boy's eyes moved from Odin's face to the woman standing behind him. A moment later the kid closed his eyes and deliberately took several deep breaths. After a moment he opened his eyes and glared at Odin again. "Alright," the kid didn't quite snarl, but it was close. "And what does Snake Eye want?"

"Uh," Odin blinked. "Nothing," he said. "He just wants to make sure you're safe."

The kid blinked, then stared at him. "Odin," he said in a tone that implied Odin was very close to dying. "You're tryin' my patience."

Odin glanced at the big Split by the door and then smiled at the kid again. "There's a Wakiya assassin in your fleet," he said.

The instant the words hit the air all three of the compartment's other occupants froze, then swelled. The kid's eyes seemed to both freeze and burn simultaneously. The big Split suddenly felt like fusion reactor that had gone live behind him, and Seldon...

"An assassin?!" she barked, obviously alarmed.

Odin glanced over his shoulder at her, then looked from her to the Split and finally to the kid. Then he nodded. "Yep," he said. "That's what the man said."

Drake's eyes were fixated on Odin. Odin watched the dozen or so different responses the kid sorted through flash by behind his eyes. Drake visibly took control of himself before meeting Odin's eyes again. "Go on," he said finally, and once more Odin found himself impressed with the man. He’d just watched fire and fury become a knife's edge.

"Well," Odin said. "We had a pretty long chat, your dad and I..."

"He's not my father," Drake corrected him, almost absently.

"Well he loves you like you were his own son," Odin told him.

The kid blinked again. He looked like somebody was trying to convince him that hot was really cold or sweet was sour or one plus one equaled three. "Odin," Drake began softly.

Odin held up both hands. "Hear me out, will ya, kid?"

"You have my undivided attention," Drake assured him softly.

"Oh," Odin blinked and then smiled happily. "Good. Well, here's the deal. Whether you believe it or not that man cares quite a bit for you."

"Please stop saying that."

"Well," Odin draped both arms over the armrests of his chair, "you can believe what you want, kid, but I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I'm tellin' ya that that man is truly disturbed by the idea of you being assassinated. So, I know he's given you plenty of reason to hate him, or at least you think he has which I suppose amounts to the same thing, but just think about a couple of facts for me, will ya?"

The kid only stared at him. The intensity in that gaze reminded Odin of the way snakes and snake charmers would stare at each other.

"The man could have killed you, right?"

"That's debatable," Drake said in a deadly whisper.

"Oh, come on!" Odin scoffed. "Sal Vassar was on the bridge of Gil's ship during that siege! The man was calling for your head. If he couldn't have you on a meat hook then he wanted you dead! He was telling Gil to kill you. He was demanding that Gil kill you! Your shields were down for over an hour! He could have ended you at any time and," Odin thrust a finger at the kid, "you telling yourself anything different is a lie!" Odin leaned back into his chair. "And far be it from me to school you in the ways of honesty and integrity, but kid? Lying to others is one thing, but lying to yourself? That's a fool's game, kid." He pointed at the boy again. "And correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think you're a fool."

The kid stared at him for so long that the deathly chill transformed into something petty and sullen. Eventually the kid looked away. He even managed to look embarrassed. "Fine," he said. "He could have killed me. So what...?"

"So why didn't he, Drake?!"

"What does it matter?!" the kid snapped. He was angry and staring at the carpet beneath his feet. He'd forgotten the cigar in his hand long enough for the stream of smoke to thin and fade away, and Odin could hear him breathing, short and angry.

Odin just stared at him. After a moment he nodded to himself. He understood. The kid was too young and too raw. He didn't trust Odin and with his girlfriend disappearing he already felt unsettled. Thinking about Gil in front of Odin, with all that heartbreak hanging over him already, made him feel naked and exposed. Odin took a breath and looked at the floor. On the other side of the desk the kid was still breathing short and shallow. Then Odin felt Seldon's gaze on the side of his face. He turned his head as she sat down beside him. He saw the questions in her eyes. He saw the concern. He smiled and snorted through his nose. Then he nodded. 'Yeah,' that nod said, 'it's real.'

She stared into his eyes for a moment longer. Then she sighed as she accepted it. She inhaled sharply and nodded as she did. Then she glanced at the big Split and the two of them communed for a moment. Finally she looked at the kid. "There's no harm in acting like it's a real threat," she said and he looked up out of whatever hell he'd gotten lost within.

"You have gotta be kiddin' me," the kid growled, glaring at Seldon for all he was worth.

"No, Drake," she said, holding his gaze, "I'm not."

For a moment Odin watched the battle of wills unfold in silence. Then the kid turned to him again. "How?" he demanded.

"Ah?" Odin blinked. "You're gonna have to..."

"How did the Wakiya get an assassin into my fleet? And how does Gil know about it?"

"Oh!" Odin nodded. "Well, see… they, the Wakiya I mean, have been tryin' to get an assassin into your fleet for," he shrugged, "weeks. They've been pressuring every contact they have to make it happen. In fact Gil thinks there may be more than one, but he knows of one for sure cos, originally, he was supposed to be the one to make it happen."

"Of course he was," the kid breathed with such naked hostility that Odin actually shivered to hear it.

"Yeah-but, kid?" Odin called to him. "He didn't do it. He stonewalled 'em. He gave 'em excuses. He told lies to keep..."

"Wouldn't do it?" the kid cut him off with a growl. "Or couldn't?"

'Damn, boy,' Odin shook his head. 'You have got some serious daddy-issues.' "Wouldn't," he said emphatically. Then he met the kid's eye and held up a hand. "Now don't get me wrong," he said and gestured at the two marines. "These two have done a pretty good job of locking down your ships. The Wakiya haven't been able to find a weakness..."

"But Gil has?" the kid said incredulously. Yet, despite the bile, Odin saw something in the kid's eyes; a kind of desperate, impossible hope. The boy wanted to believe. He was just afraid to.

Odin nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He has."

"How," Seldon demanded.

"The Endless," Odin stated and met her eye. "Too many civilians," he said. "Too much traffic. And once on the Endless there are shuttles to the stations, shuttles to other ships. There are supply deliveries, transports..." He shrugged. He could see that she and the kid both saw it.

"But we scan every ship before they dock. We scan every crate before bringing them aboard..."

Odin shook his head. "There's ways to fool those sensors, love. Always has been...."

"Don't call me 'love'," she cut him off and then looked first to Drake and then to the monstrous Split.

"Trust me, Chief," Odin said, "it's done. Their assassin is in this fleet."

"How do you know that?" Drake demanded.

"Cos it was the last thing Huritas did before you exposed her," he replied. At this pronouncement the kid and Seldon exchanged an alarmed look. He'd hit a nerve. "Gil said he'd heard enough chatter to be sure of it. That Wakiya assassin got tired of his stonewalling and went around him. Trust me, she's already here."

"She?" Seldon echoed him.

"Yep," he said. "Gil said she was young, about his age," he nodded at Drake. "Tall, good looking, with dark hair, green eyes, and one hell of an attitude." He chuckled, remembering the expression on Gil's face. "He said she's got a tongue sharp enough to make you bleed."

"Huh," Seldon grunted.

"Sounds like Chinomu," Drake snarled.

Odin blinked. It did a little, except for the age and the duration of the woman's time in the fleet. "Yeah," he said out loud, "except Chinomu's been here too long."

“Aye,” Drake nodded. "Not to mention that if Chinomu's the assassin then she's really bad at her job." Odin and Seldon both looked at him. He spread his hands impatiently. "First thing she did after gettin' into the fleet was save the only warship we had."

Odin chuckled. "Aye," he agreed. "Not exactly the action of an enemy agent."

"Alright," Seldon said sharply. "So we've got an assassin here to kill Drake." She turned and thrust a finger at the kid. "You," she said, "don't go anywhere without an escort."

"Without Split!" The enormous marine interjected.

The kid rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Drake!" Seldon barked.

"We're taking Gil Jerigan at his word?!" The kid growled back ferociously.

"In this case?" Odin shrugged. "You really should."

"There's no harm in taking precautions, Drake," Seldon stated. "Whether this is a real threat or not you should still treat it like one!"

The kid rolled his eyes again, then held up his hands to stay another tongue lashing. "Fine," he relented, "fine."

For a moment Seldon glared at him, then she looked at the other marine. "We're going to have to find this assassin," she stated. The big Split nodded. Seldon turned to Odin. "Any idea what ship she's on?"

He shrugged. "Start with the Endless," he said. "Although Gil did say that the Necromancer would probably be her target ship. It's a ship you visit often even though you maintain quarters here. He said the Predator is too small. It'd be much more likely for her to be detected here. But the Necromancer is just about ideal, especially since your movements there are predictable..."

"Gil said that?!" Drake interrupted him. Odin met his eye. "He knows which ships I sleep on?! He can predict my movements on the Necromancer?!"

Odin shrugged.

The kid suddenly seemed to bristle with hostility. After a moment he snarled and turned away.

"What?" Seldon demanded.

Drake met her eye. "Motherfrakker has spies in my fleet," he stated.

"You don't know that," Seldon stated.

"Oh," Odin said, catching her attention, "no. You can be sure of that." He looked at the kid. "But really? Which ship you sleep on isn't exactly one of the great mysteries of the universe, Drake. Hell, anybody tracking your movements will know that you're captain of this heap here and that you visit both the Necromancer and the Endless regularly." At the expressions turned in his direction he held up his hands. "What?! How many people see his face on the CNC of the Predator every day? How many ships and stations does he interact with from the captain's chair? And Savage Spur is a public sector with public stations. Anybody can watch when the Predator comes up alongside the Necromancer. I mean, if I wanted to track the kid I wouldn't even need anybody in the fleet. Just sit back, observe, and make reasonable deductions..."

"That wouldn't give you the ability to predict his movements aboard the Necromancer," Seldon stated.

"Well I did say he's got spies in the fleet," Odin stated. "I'm just saying that figuring out which ships the kid visits isn't exactly quantum physics or anything..."

"It doesn't matter," The kid sighed. "We deal with what's in front of us." Then he met Odin's eye. "So you're tellin' me that Gil kidnapped you just to warn me of an assassin?"

"No," Odin said.

The kid's eyes narrowed.

"He's also got a proposition for you."

"Of course he does," the kid said with a curled lip. After a moment he looked back up and glared at Odin. "Well?!" he snarled. "Let's hear it."

“Oh,“ Odin held up his hands as if surrendering, "I don't know what it is.”

The kid shook his head. "What?!"

"He just told me to tell you that he has a proposition for you and that he'd be in touch when the time was right. Oh! And he asked if you would kindly stop blowing up his stations." Odin held the kid's eye. "He doesn't like losing people either and you're making him look bad."

"Oh how awful for him," the kid said, utterly deadpan.

Odin chuckled and shook his head. What could he do? He stood, groaning as he did so… he'd been forced to sleep in a chair… then he met the kid's eye. "Am I free to go?" he asked.

"Aye," Drake growled. "You can go."

"You know, Drake," Odin said, "I know you hate the guy, but has it ever occurred to you that you may not know whatever it is you think you know?"

The kid glared at him through slitted eyes. After a moment he cocked his head to the side. "I understand that you're considered essential on the Patriarch," he said. "Your XO had nothin' but high praise for you all mornin'...."

"And here I thought Dav hated my guts," Odin commented.

"Why don't head back to your ship, Odin?" The kid suggested. “Where it’s safe.”

Odin smiled at him. "One of these days I am gonna win you over, Drake. Just you wait and see."

"Sure you will," the kid said frostily. "Tell you what," he said, suddenly showin' a very toothy grin, "I'll forgive you the very same day my Ma does."

"Ouch," Odin winced as if he'd just touched something hot enough to burn him. Then he grinned, shook his head, and left the kid's stateroom. A few moments later he was making his way toward the transporter with the intention of beaming over to the Necromancer and catching a ride back to the Patriarch. Then he saw Hayla at the end of the corridor. She was glaring at him with anger painted over pain which, in turn, marred the beauty of the hope that he might come back to her. He briefly thought it amazing that a woman so strong and fierce could also be so delicate and fragile, and once again he was stunned by the beauty of it.

'Gil, my man,' he thought, 'I do believe you and I have both made the very same mistake with that boy.'

********

Yeah. So it really is a good thing Seldon was around. It turns out that Odin saw Gil Jerigan last night.

Yeah!

The two of 'em sat down, had a few beers, shot the shit, talked about how much Snake Eye loves me and… Oh yeah! Apparently there's a bloody Wakiya assassin somewhere in my fleet! And the asshole decides that this wasn't important enough to tell anybody about! Yeah! Motherfrakker waited 'til this mornin' so he could tell me his own damn self instead of doin' the responsible thing and lettin' Seldon know!

I tell yah. That sunnuva bitch drives me frakkin' crazy. Every time! Just the sight of him is enough to have me seein' red. And after just a few words out of his mouth? And a flash of that bloody grin? Then I'm usually ready to just shoot him or have Kao t'Kt rip his arms off for me.

Motherfrakker!

I tell yah!

*sigh!*

Right. So. Accordin' to Odin, Gil sought him out to send me a warnin': there's a bloody Terran assassin in my fleet. And apparently the reason for this warnin' is that Gil Jerigan just can't bloody bear the thought of life without me! Uck. I honestly don't know what to make of it. I really don't. In fact there's quite a bit about Jolly Gil Jerigan that I don't frakkin' understand. I don't know why he left. I don't know why he abandoned Hayla and me. I don't know why he sent her into danger. I don't know why he didn't destroy the Necromancer when he had the chance, and I don't know why he sent us Ricky and Zeke and the others. And… I don't understand why he's warnin' me about this assassin!

I mean I want to believe Odin. I really do! But I know Gil. I know him, and I know how good he is at workin' people, at playin' with what they think and believe. I know how he plays his game. 'Information is everything.' Meanin' you need to know as much as possible about everybody else while makin' sure they know next to nothin' about you. So I know he's got an angle. I know he does. I just don't know what it is. I know he's workin' Odin. I know he is. I just don't know how. And I know he's tryin' to work me. I just don't know if he's succeedin'.

I mean that's just what he does, right? That's what he does. He spins your brain, sets you off in a direction, and somehow knows which way you'll jump before you do. And the truth is: I just can't trust the part of me that wants to believe Gil is tellin' the truth. That this is about Gil Jerigan sendin' me a warnin' cos he loves me. Cos that's the same part of me that believed him when he patted me on the head and told me how smart and special I was. It’s the same part of me that believed him when he said he'd be right back! I look at it and I just see this stupid little kid… this stupid little kid that's still hopin' he'll come back, hand me somethin' shiny, and tell me what a good boy I am.

God damn it!

...

*sigh!*

You know I think I hate that man. I really do. And it's not the anger or outrage that makes me think it. It's the other stuff. It's the hope and the wonder and the admiration that all turned black and rotten inside me after that motherfrakker left without so much as a fare-thee-well. I hate him for leavin' and I hate that he can still pluck my heart strings and get me hopin' and believin' that maybe this time is different. Hell, I think I hate him for pullin' me out of the dark in the first place. And now here he is sendin' me a warnin' about the intentions of the very people he betrayed me for.

Ah-hell! I don't know. I just don't know.

In any case we're operatin' like he's tellin' the truth, which irks me for reasons I can’t even name. Seldon has started a fleet wide search for the assassin, assumin' that there is one. She's workin' with Legion to study camera footage and find anyone who doesn't belong. In the meantime Kao t'Kt has increased my security. He's resumed full time duties as my bodyguard and has added additional marines to my detail. He's got me wearin' body armor and implemented additional security measures like sweeps of any compartment I intend to enter before allowin' me into it.

Aboard my own ships.

Yeah. It's bloody infuriatin’. But hell! Considerin' that Gin was a Terran assassin? Well, there really is no tellin' what I'm up against.

Oh, God damn it!

It just keeps sneakin' up on me, you know? I turn a bloody corner inside my own head and suddenly I'm starin' at this great big empty space where she’s supposed to be. You know I really am angry at her. I don't understand why she left and it frakkin' hurts! And the more it hurts the more hateful I feel.

********

Kao t'Kt stood beside the hatch in the Huruk'tar's chambers. He stood to the left of the hatch, where he could quickly interpose himself between any would be assailant and the young human who restored some measure of honor to Kao t'Kt's life. Shortly after the meeting with Captain Rider, Seldon left the compartment to direct the search for the would-be assassin. Via his comm link Kao t'Kt was able to listen to the progress being made.

It was a grim business, and unsettling. The Predator was a relatively small ship, yet even she possessed seemingly countless hiding places for a skilled infiltrator. The Endless, on the other hand, which was where the brunt of the search was taking place, was a vast warren of corridors and compartments with hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers worth of access tubes, maintenance tunnels, vents, elevator shafts, and countless cubby holes for the assassin to hide within. Even with cameras, probes, and the ship's biometric scanners it would take stazuras, if not tazuras, to search just that ship alone. And, even if nothing was found, there would be no certainty that the ship was clear, only that nothing was found.

Worse still, the idea of the assassin was already taking on a life of its own. Over the comm he heard the speculation. He heard the fear. He listened to it spreading, like an infectious disease, between the troops conducting the search. Already he'd sent several messages reprimanding his subordinates for their lack of discipline. Even so he expected that half the fleet would be jumping at shadows by the end of the day.

Across the room Drake opened a video comm channel. Kao t'Kt listened to the greeting given from the other end. The speaker sounded somewhat less than sane. "Greetings from the Brimstone," that voice said pleasantly; a little too pleasantly. "How may I direct your call?"

"This is Drakhar. Let me talk to S'jar t'Chk."

"One moment please," that hyper-civil voice replied smoothly, like slick meat across a sharp blade. A few slow heartbeats later the voice returned. "I'm sorry, sir. S'jar t'Chk has instructed me to tell you that he is currently indisposed."

"No problem," Lord Drake replied. "Just tell him the job is done, his enemies are dead, and he can pay me at his earliest convenience..."

Suddenly another voice sounded over the line, sounding distant, as if the speaker were too far from the mic to be heard properly. "You ungrateful little shit!" that voice slashed into the conversation like a mace through paper. "Put it up where I can see him!"

Kao t'Kt tried not to observe his lord, preferring instead to direct his attention toward the surroundings, but the sudden change of images from the holo-display got his attention and from the corner of his eye he suddenly saw a mirror image of S'Jar t'Chk's face glaring at Drake from the space above the young lord's desk.

"You make me wait?!" t'Chk roared at the camera. "You make ME wait?!" The man sounded so furious that had he been in the room Kao t'Kt would have stood between him and Lord Drake.

Drake's eyes narrowed. His face hardened. Kao t'Kt felt his lord's discomfort, and understood the situation immediately. If they'd been in private Drake would have told t'Chk to calm down and likely called the man out for his foolishness. But t'Chk was speaking to him from the command deck of the Brimstone. He was surrounded by subordinates. In essence the entire Se’tjak clan was watching this interaction. If Drake rebuffed the man he would undermine S'jar t'Chk's authority and force the clan leader to take action against him.

"I am your CLAN LEADER!" t'Chk roared over the comm. "I am your FRAKKING CLAN LEADER! When I call you had better bloody well answer me!"

Across the room Lord Drake's face was a frozen mask. In that instant he looked very much a Split; hard, cold, unyielding, with all of his hatred and fury burning in his eyes.

T'Chk thrust a finger at the screen. "You owe me everything, Drake! I gave you safe haven! I gave you a place to build! I gave you a warship when you had nothing but a few measly fighters! I paid off Huritas when she wanted to claim all your assets and take your entire fleet as slaves! I did that! I did! Now you don't even take my calls?! You don't even have the time to look me in the face when I have things I need you to do?!" t'Chk stepped up close to the camera and glared directly into Drake's soul. "I own you! Do you understand that, boy? I own you. I do! Not Thane! Not Gorda! I do!"

Suddenly t'Chk was soft and smooth again. His teeth flashed white on the holo-display. A broad smile spread across his face. "So be a good lad and track this fellow for me, will you? I think he's reporting to your Terran friends. Follow him. Find out who he's talking to and report back. You can do that for your BLOODY CLAN LEADER!" The shift into murderous intensity was so sudden that Kao t'Kt felt his hands twitch. An instant later it was gone and the half-vacant, semi-insane smile returned. "Can't you?"

"Consider it done," Drake replied without emotion.

"Good! Good," t'Chk purred. "I like it when you play nice with me, Drake. Oh, and kill Hatibmanckarsat for me, will you? He's another errant member of the Se’tjak clan and I'd like one problem to solve the other." The vacant stare became murderous intensity in the blink of an eye. The smile became a savage snarl. While staring Lord Drake in the eye S'jar t'Chk made a slashing motion across his throat and the comm channel winked out.

Several sezura later Lord Drake took a deep breath and let it out heavily. He glanced at Kao t'Kt. Nothing was spoken but they both understood. Kao t'Kt nodded, wondering if he would have the chance to repay the Se’tjak clan leader for the disrespect he'd just shown his lord.

********

"Ma'am?"

A gentle shake of her foot.

"Ma'am?"

Seldon started. "Yahaimup!" she barked, blinking and feeling the sand in her eyes. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and there was an embarassing wetness below one side of her mouth. "Oh shit!" she swore. "Wuzzai snorin'? I feel like I was snorin'." She wiped her face and focused on the blur beyond her feet. After a moment the blur resolved into one of the Nedleys. This one was the communications specialist and he looked amused.

"Yes ma'am," he said.

"I was snorin'?" she asked again.

"Yes ma'am," he smiled at her.

She nodded and smacked her lips. "Droolin' too, from the feel of my chin..."

"Couldn't say as to that, ma'am. But you were definitely snoring."

She fixed him with her drill instructor's glare. "Cute and feminine or loud and obnoxious?"

"Like a chainsaw, ma'am."

"Oh good," she said, relieved. "I was afraid I'd have to kick somebody's ass." She fixed that glare on the young man again. “To maintain appearances, you understand.”

Nedley laughed, unable to conceal either his nervousness or his amusement. "No fear on that account, ma'am."

Seldon looked around. She was in the officer's lounge. She'd come down for a cup of coffee at ten hundred. She'd been up most of the night and had a vague memory of seeing the couch and thinking that she'd just rest her eyes for a moment. Her eyes found the clock on the wall. 16:27. "Oh hell," she muttered. She'd been completely out of it for over six hours. She fixed Nedley with a glare. "He kill any more of my marines?" she snarled.

"Uh…" Nedley blinked. "Not that I am aware of, ma'am."

She held the young man's eye and saw a complete lack of guile staring back at her. "Alright, kid," she groaned and rolled several kinks out of her neck. "Why am I awake?"

"You asked me to keep an eye out for possible signs of Commander Ookami, ma'am?"

Seldon blinked, feeling as if he'd just doused her with a bucket of cold water. "Aye?" she asked.

"Well," he said, "I may have found something..."

********

Right. So it's almost seventeen hundred and today has been… well, a mixed bag really. I have made the Split happy in order to acquire my new panthers. I have purchased said panthers in order to create a rapid response frigate squadron. And I have begun the task of gettin' my two new frigates ship-shape so that they are more than just sector decoration. I have spent quite a few credits expandin' the Emporium so that I can use it to make great bloody piles of credits. I have also spent much of the past nine hours realizin' that I am in very very murky water concernin' Yaki politics.

Yeah. I seem to have a problem with my clan leader.

A big one.

After meetin' with Odin I decided to report to t'Chk directly. Mostly to save my crew from any further abuse. I intended to inform him that his enemies were dead and that he could pay me for runnin' his errands for him. I never got that far. T'Chk was livid. He was mad at me for not takin' his calls the last day or so, and I mean barkin', frothin'-at-the-mouth, rabid dog mad... and it was all directed at me. Worse still, the game we've been playin'? The one where I do whatever the hell I want and he pretends not to give a shit?

Yeah, it seems we're done playin'.

He made it very clear that, as far as he's concerned, I belong to him. He owns me. In his mind I owe him everythin'. The safe haven in Yaki space came from him. The Necromancer came from him. And he thinks his intercession with the Yaki council after Ea't destroyed several of her ships means that I owe him not only everythin' I have but the continued freedom of my people, who Huritas probably would have enslaved.

Yeeah...

He said somethin' else as well. It was right at the end, just before he gave me a couple'a bull-shit jobs to make sure I knew who was the boss and who hopped when he said jump. He said he owned me. He did. Not Thane. Not Gorda. Him. Which has me wonderin' if all this shit was caused by me makin' deals with Thane. Like maybe he feels I cut him out of the nividium profits or something’? I don't know. I don't know and it bothers me. But, either way, I took care of his errands. Well, I killed that Paranid for him, anyway. The covert op didn't turn out so well. The idiot we were supposed to track managed to get his-self killed by a wolf pack of yaki fighters. I tried explainin' this to t'Chk but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned I'd failed the mission and he made a point of rakin' me over the coals for it... in front of his entire bridge crew and on an open channel.

********

Mel was pacing back and forth behind his desk. Full spectrum lights in the wall behind him made it appear as if the room was flooded with delicate morning sunlight. A pair of beautiful white songbirds cooed and chirped in a three meter high cage between luscious, hanging violets and half-wild philodendrons. A soft waterfall was running in the wall to the left and a soundtrack of delicate artesian flutes played in the winds of the high mountains north of San Angelus filled the air like the voice of angels. Yet, despite the beauty and the calm, Mel was ready to punch something. Or someone.

"Oh come ON already!" he shouted and shook his hands at the holographic display of nothing. He'd called the boy's ship and after a brief and very tense conversation with an attractive young man named Nedley he'd been put on hold.

"Oh calm down," Andre chided him. "You're going to give yourself an aneurysm."

"'Calm down,' he says! Calm down?!" Mel made a gesture like he was strangling his lover. "Do you realize what's just happened?!"

The holographic display flickered to life and was suddenly filled with the image of Drakhar taking a seat behind his desk. "Gorda," he greeted Mel as if nothing was wrong. "What can I do for you?"

"What can you DO for me?!" He looked at Andre. "He just asked me what he can do for me!"

"I heard him," Andre informed him dryly. "Perhaps you should give the boy an answer."

Gorda turned back to Drakhar, who was by this point looking somewhat confused. "Tell me why you did it!" Gorda snapped.

Drakhar arched an eyebrow at him. "Why I did what?"

"Why you killed him, of course! Why did you kill Hatibmanckarsat?!"

Drakhar's face hardened. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who is Hatibmanckarsat?" he asked.

Mel's mouth dropped open. "Who is Hatibmanckarsat?!" He looked to Andre. "He just asked me who is Hatibmanckarsat!"

Andre sighed dramatically. "Well perhaps you should tell him."

Mel turned back to the boy with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Hatibmanckarsat," he said, "was the Archminister of Mineral Acquisitions and Disposal for the Pontifex in Heaven's Assertion!" Mel was aware that his voice had risen while he was speaking. By the end of the sentence he was actually shrieking.

Drake arched an eyebrow. "And this is a problem for you… how?"

Mel shook his head. He was having trouble comprehending the situation. Finally he looked at Andre, who simply spread his hands and mouthed the words, "tell him." Then made a shooing gesture. Mel finally turned back to Drakhar and glared at the boy while catching his breath.

"It is a problem, young man," he said, "for us." He spread his hands and glared into the boy's face until he realized that Drake still didn't get it. "Hatibmanckarsat was helping me take over the nividium market in Heaven's Assertion, you dimwit! And you," he thrust an accusing finger at the boy's face, "KILLED HIM!"

There was an instant when the mask fell away and the boy on the other end of the line was totally naked. In that instant Mel saw the shock, the understanding, and the anger. In that instant Mel felt his own heart skip a beat.

"Oh dear," Mel said and immediately cut comms.

"What?" Andre asked him.

It took Mel several attempts before he could get the words out. "I believe," he gasped, "that S'jar t'Chk just declared war."

********

Continued...

[Scion Drakhar]

...continued.

********

Then, a little while later, I found out that-err… Hatibmanckarsat? That Paranid what t'Chk had me kill? Yeah. That ‘nid was not, in fact, a rogue member of the Se'tjak clan like S'jar t'Chk told me. Nope. The sunnuva bitch was actually some kind of bigshot whoopty doo in Heaven’s Assertion; some kind of mineral expert that Mel Gorda was workin' with to capitalize on all that nividium I've been sellin' to Thane! 

Yeah!

And as for HOW this particular piece of information came to my attention? Aye! Gorda called me up and wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me! He is currently very unhappy with me. All three of his chins were waggin’ while he chewed me out and demanded to know why I'd killed that ‘nid. I didn't tell him that t'Chk ordered me to do it but I think he figured it out anyway. Just before he cut comms his face went slack and his eyes and mouth turned into perfect little circles in his face.

Yeah.

Which is when it occurred to me to take another look at the fighters what shot down that mark I was supposed to follow. So I called up the gun cam footage from the kestrel I had followin' the guy. I had to zoom way in cos it was from over eleven klicks out but, even so, I saw it. The fighters that shot the target down were sportin' Brimstone insignia. In other words S'jar t'Chk set me up to fail the mission he’d given me.

Then he humiliated me for it.

So far I've let it be. I haven't said anythin' to anyone about it. If I'm gonna be honest I don't really know how to proceed here. I mean I've been thinkin' about this shit all afternoon and the more I do the more uncomfortable I get. With two orders t'Chk used his authority over me to damage a business relationship and sabotage my reputation within the clan I belong to. And as far as I can tell he did it just to spite me. To… hell, I don't even know. To punish me for workin' with Thane and Gorda? I mean is he mad at me for not includin' him in the deal? Should I be sendin' more money his way?

I don't know. I just don't know. I tell yah. This? This I did not see comin'.

What I do know is that I'm gonna have to do somethin' about it. Unfortunately I don't have a clue what that somethin' might be. I mean this is bad. Really bad. But I can't just kill him… although I did come really, and I mean stupidly close to it. Shortly after realizin' what he'd done I had to just sit at my desk and breathe for a bit. My temper was so bright and hot that it felt like my head was on fire. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. And all I wanted to do was walk out onto my bridge and order one of my boomers to launch half a dozen or so hammer torpedo barrages at the Brimstone, about twice the number it would have taken to smash that Shuri into radioactive slag. Of course, doin' that would have instantly cost me my safe haven, my very profitable relationship with Thane, all three of my complexes, and likely would have made an enemy of all the Yaki forever.

Yeah.

Scary thing is? I knew all that and I still came REALLY goddamn close to doin' it anyway. Yeah, this shit with t'Chk is scarin' the hell out of me and, apparently, my response to fear is aggression.

I just can't see the angles, you know? I don't get it. I feel like I need to do somethin'. This is suddenly a really goddamn dangerous situation. But I can't move against him. I'm a member of not just the Yaki but of S'jar t'Chk's clan. HIS clan! I've sworn a bloody oath of fealty! Which, in retrospect, may not have been such a hot idea.

Shit. This could be bad. Really bad. I can't see it, though. It's just… it's like this gapin' abyss that just opened up beneath me.

But what do I do?

…

What do I do?

Shit.

You know what really frustrates me? It's the absurdity of all this. I mean if he has a problem with me why not just tell me?! Frak! I don't even know what I did to offend him. I mean I am grateful to him! I… well, I did feel loyal to him. I don't know about now. Now I'm wonderin' if I gotta watch for the knife in my back. But really! If he had a problem with what I was doin' why didn't he just talk to me about it? Why this petty, spiteful bull-shit? Why attack relationships that he could profit from? I mean if I was supposed to include him in this deal with Thane why not just work it out with me? I mean that's the only thing I can think of; that I've insulted him by not includin' him in the nividium deal and caused him to lose face somehow. It's the only explanation that makes sense.

You know, assumin' he hasn't just gone and lost his damned mind.

…

Unless I'm overlookin' somethin'...

Man! I just don't have the temperment for this shit! It's makin' my goddamn teeth itch. That sunnuva bitch ordered me to sabotage myself. What if he does it again? What if next time it's Thane he's tellin' me to betray? Or the Split? Or the Argon Federation? At this point I'm gonna have to research and double check absolutely every job, task, and suggestion he gives me. I already looked at that job first thing this mornin'. Turns out it, too, was a way to frak me. The fighters I had Ea't smash were traders on their way to the marine barracks, which belongs to Abmanckusset, that loud Paranid Clan Leader who did most of the talkin' at the council.

Shit.

I don't know what to do. Is this just t’Chk’s idea of punishment? Is he just flexin' his muscles to put me in my place? Or is this somethin' else? Somethin' I can't see?

What the hell do I do? If I attack him in any way that leads back to me I lose everything I've built.

…

Again.

No.

No!

Hell no!

That is not gonna happen. I won't let it. If he moves to correct our relationship I'll let it alone but if he doesn't then I'm gonna have to free myself of S'jar t'Chk and the danger he represents.

Shit.

Okay.

...

Shit! I don't even know how to think that way. This whole 'movin' up to somebody sideways' thing? Yeah, I don't know how to do it. Attackin' somebody the way he just hit me? My brain just does not work that way.

Goddamn it!

Okay-okay. I'll run all this by Kao t'Kt and Seldon, see if they have any suggestions.

...

Ah-hell! I just thought of Gin again. She'd have a solution. Hell she'd probably be able to just deal with it for me.

Damn.

Okay. Right. So…

Regardin' the less terrifyin' parts of my day: The Split are happy with me again, although now that I think about it they also managed to annoy me this mornin'.

Yeah!

Oh-hell! What a day.

Yeah, so it wasn't the end of the world, or even anywhere near as mind numbin'ly terrifyin' as what's goan' on with t'Chk. But it was irritatin'. I mean, seriously! Why do the Split even bother offerin' assassination contracts? I mean it's not like they intend to share! They're not gonna pay somebody else to kill their marks! I mean, really!

I tell yah.

Yeah, so the first bloody job out of yaki space this mornin' was for one of Ea't's contacts. It was this Split madman up in Family Tkr, and the sunnuva bitch sent me after a bloody pirate fleet in Family Njy. No biggie, right? With typhoon and wasp swarms I can take out the escort easily enough, and after that the Predator can hold her own in close quarters. So I showed up and happily began smashin' the escort to bits. When that was done I moved in to deal with that carrack. But when I got in close… I was actually just scannin' the bloody thing to decide whether or not I wanted to risk a boardin' op... which I did… the frakkin' thing suddenly exploded right in my face!

Yeah!

A pair of bloody Split rapid response vipers showed up and shoved enough thermonuclear firepower down that carrack's throat to smash a small moon! With me only three klicks away!

Bloody Split. I tell yah. So... yeah! That kinda soured my disposition toward executions a bit. Actually, if I'm gonna be honest? I wasn't really feelin' it anyway. By that point I didn't really feel like killin' anybody… well, except for S'jar t'Chk... and Gil, of course… and maybe Odin. I usually want to kill Odin or, I don't know, make him suffer a little...

Right. Anyway. After that I just decided to spend the day engaged in less stressful activities like buildin'… and tellin' other people to kill people on my behalf. It was relatively safe work and, as strange it sounds, it made me feel better, the-ah, the buildin' bit I mean. I didn't really feel anythin' about the delegation of murder. Not sure what that says about me, actually.

But anyway, I built a lot of stations. I built quite a few for the Split but I built many many more for me. The Emporium is now my largest complex by a fair margin. For comparison, the Alpha Complex in Weaver's Tempest consists of seventy eight stations. The Emporium, on the other hand, is now a three hundred and seventy million credit mega-plex consistin' of ninety nine stations:

12x chip plants
4x computer plants
2x disintegrator rifles fabs
2x low yield sidearms fabs
12x quantum tube fabs
1x L Rimes Factory
1x L Teladianium Foundry
4x XL Solar Power Plant
9x L crystal fabs
17x L cahoona bakeries
17x L cattle ranches
1x L chelt space aquarium
1x L rastar refinery
1x L Wheat Farm
1x L Ore Mine [57]
14x L Silicon Mines [40x3, 31x3, 28x3, 23x3, 21x2]

I decided to join it and the energy complex together in order to combine resources; specifically energy, food, crystals, and silicon. Which means I require less resources to keep both complexes operational. It also saves me the hassle of havin' freighters move energy from the one to the other. Now I only need one freighter shuttlin' e-cells about, in this case from the Emporium to Nova Somnia. I would have combined Nova Somnia as well but, seein' as how both complexes are commercial and see a lot of traffic I decided to keep the extra hub to make sure all my customers have a place to dock. I reassigned the CLS freighters that had been movin' energy from the e-plex to the Emporium. Now they're workin' as CAg's assigned to the Emporium. Their job is primarily sales and, so far, they all seem to be stayin' busy. At some point I'm gonna add a few more computer plants to the complex, probably another eight to ten or so. But that'll require returnin' to Omicron Lyrae, which I just couldn't be bothered with today.

So, back to the Split. I basically kissed a lot of leathery, nicotine-yellow backside throughout Rhonkar's stompin' ground. In addition to droppin' those stations I also shmoozed up to a bunch of uppity types by givin' 'em rides between stations and sectors, rides for both the uppity types themselves and the military personnel they were responsible for. I fetched a few derelict starships and I even agreed to defend Family Njy from a rather pathetic Xenon invasion. Or, to be precise, I sat in my stateroom, with the Predator parked above the center of the sector while H'nt and the Necromancer's fighters did it for me. I did take several more executions but, still feelin' kinda sour about my mornin's experience, I just unleashed Ea't and the Osan'gar on the sorry bastards. So Ea't got to sink his teeth into several centaurs and their escorts while I ate lunch, listened to music, watched the Emporium tick over and planned on which stations to build next. All in all I think it was an effective use of resources, especially since two out of the three pirates were Boron and I know good and goddamn well that Ea't took prisoners. Which means the crew of the Osan'gar is eatin' well tonight. So, by shortly after fifteen hundred, the Split decided that any sightin's of the Predator in Ghinn's escape the day that Cobra Prototype went and got itself lost were purely coincidental. Which means Rhonkar's happy with me again, the merchants are sellin' me their top line gear again, and I even managed to get my privateer's license for Split space reinstated. So I can cruise around and inspect the contents of everybody's cargo holds to my heart's content.

Heh heh heh. You never know, right?

********

The Birdfarm pilots on fourth watch were in their ready room. Soon the SDO would announce the day's roster, and thus answer the days most important questions: Who was on CAP? Who was on standby? And who would be jumping in the simulators for five hours of heart pounding, nerve wracking, mind boggling training that would then be reviewed and critiqued by the squadron's lead pilots, who always found something to criticize. The time before the meeting was always rowdy. Egos clashed. Jokes and stories were told. Pranks were played. News was exchanged. Steam was vented, jitters and anxiety dispelled, and ultimately the time was passed. Only today was different. Just before seventeen hundred Pael Halter ducked into the room and told Scot Yatar that the CAG was on board.

"What did you say?" Kleo Cheram turned around in her seat and asked him.

"Commander Chinomu," Halter said again, "she's here and coming this way."

"Oh shit!" Tomes Nedley laughed. "Which one of you boneheads screwed the pooch?!"

Jako Keswyn nearly sprayed his soda all over the seat back in front of him.

"That's not funny," Rabeka Kayean said. "That woman is terrifying."

"You talking about what she did to Frenk Rhyner?" Daye Jorwan asked.

"I heard about that," Jako Keswyn said. "Shoved her pistol in his face, right?"

"She fired him," Rabeka Kayean stated, "after threatening to have him thrown out an airlock."

"That's cos he didn't do his job!" Tomes Nedley laughed again. "Thought he'd just let the pirates fly right up and drop anchor on top of the fleet he was supposed to protect!"

"Yeah-but," Rabeka Kayean looked horrified, "that doesn't give her the right to just kill somebody!"

"What do you think, Kriss?" Tomes asked Weamond. "I heard she kicked you out of the fleet for annoying her."

Weamond grinned. "That she did, Tomes old buddy, but I had to annoy her a lot!"

"That's not funny," Kayean said again.

"Oh lighten up, Becky," Jako Keswyn told her.

Kayean opened up her mouth but Daye Jorwan beat her to it. "Can she really fly as well as they say she can?" he asked Weamond.

Kriss blinked. Then he nodded. "There are a lot of things I can say about that woman," he said, "a lot of things I don't like and could do without. But her flying is top notch."

"I heard she took on a shrike while flying a tenjin all by herself," Tomes shook his head. "Man! That gives me the willies just thinking about it."

Weamond's face suddenly hardened. "She wasn't by herself," he said quietly, and suddenly the whole room was listening. "But yeah, she went nose to nose with a shrike, and she came out on top."

"Man," Tomes laughed. "That's bull-shit. I bet I can take her..."

"Well, mister Nedley," a new voice said from the hatch to the compartment, "today you will get the chance to find out."

They all whirled around in their seats to see Commander Chinomu stride into the room. She was in uniform, with a strange looking pistol under her right arm and wearing her ever-present leather bomber jacket with the strange patches.

"Commander on deck!" Captain Calon Marval barked as he strode into room behind the commander.

They all leapt from their seats and snapped to attention.

"As you were," Commander Chinomu said as she strode down the aisle to the podium. A moment later she was facing them. When they were settled she glanced at the data pad in her hand, then faced them and continued. "The following eight pilots will report to the medium ship dock in ten mizura. Be ready to fly. That means flight suits and full kits. Val Jerigan. Rabeka Kayean. Terrel Giorno. Tomes Nedley. Jako Keswyn. Scot Rider. Pico Poler." Her eyes found the red haired guy in the third row. "And Kriss Weamond." She looked back up at a room full of shocked faces. "Captain Marval has the duty assignments for the rest of you." With that she stepped out from behind the podium and started for the hatch.

"Excuse me, Commander?" Tomes 'Jackpot' Nedley asked nervously.

"Ensign?"

"What are we doing?"

She smirked ever so slightly. "You're getting the opportunity to put your money where your mouth is, Nedley," she said, and with that she left.

********

Right. So, since the Split were happy with me again, I went and bought those two Panthers that I promised Ea't and Chinomu the other day.

Heh.

Yeah. I don't think I've ever seen a Split warrior look like a little kid on Christmas mornin' before, but that's exactly how I'd describe Ea't when I told him. I think he's lookin' forward to remindin' our enemies who we are. Chinomu, on the other hand… well, Seldon insists that the woman does smile. I've yet to see it, at least when she's not bustin' my balls. Either way, the last few hours have been a flurry of freighter deployments to locate arms and equipment for those bad boys and the forty or so fighters they're totin'. Both of those panthers will eventually be equipped with IBL's in the main guns and flaks in all the turrets. They'll be packin' typhoon swarms, silkworms, wasps, and mossies, not to mention a few dozen drones each. Between the two of them they have ten susanowas, ten falcon haulers, and twenty brand spankin' new Venti class fighters from OTAS that, I have to say, I am rather curious about. When side by side with a tenjin the differences tell an interesting story. The venti is faster, more agile, and more heavily shielded. On the other hand the tenjin has a larger cargo hold, an extra turret and, as always, those supercharged weapon and shield generators. So, of course, I had to try one out and see for myself what I thought of the thing; and the best way I could think of for that was to take it on a few high speed runs through the superstructure of the Alpha complex.

Ha! Yeah. I'm fairly certain that I gave a number of my station employees heart palpitations when they saw me strafin' past their windows. I was flyin' slalom between the stations, often within a hundred meters or so of the station superstructures, while doin' at least a hundred and thirty meters a second (approx 300mph)… usually sideways. Heh heh. Yeah. It was a actually some of the best spent time of the day. I blew off a lot of steam and even managed to have a little fun while takin' my mind off all the other things screamin' around in my head.

But, yeah! The short version is that I like the venti. It really is a joy to fly. It is fast (especially with the turbo booster that I bolted onto mine). It's agile, responsive, and smooth in a way that is hard to describe. It's also got a sticker price about two million lower than the tenjin. Which means it's only about three quarters the price, once all the weapons and equipment are factored in. I kinda wish I had more options with the paint job. I'm not sure how they manage it but most argon fighters look like they're rusting. They're not. They just look that way. But I suppose that's not really what matters, is it? In any case, I'm pleased with the venti and very curious to see how it performs as part of my fleet. The one real negative, though, is the power plant. Both the weapon and shield generators are dramatically weaker than the tenjin. So I guess we'll just have to see. Time will tell, after all. Well, time and conflict, anyway.

So, it's not ready yet but I expect that in a few days to a week I'll have my rapid response fleet; a wolf pack of three heavily armed frigates with upwards of thirty five fighters and maybe a corvette or two. Turns out those panthers each have a medium ship dock which I might make use of to either bolster firepower or cargo capacity. Probably cargo, now that I think about it. Split ships aren't really made for transporting goods, which is fine considerin' what they are good at, but those limited holds make long range jumps somethin' of a pain in the ass, logistically. From what I understand Chinomu has already made her way over to start settin' up trainin' platforms for her pilots. I still need to hire crews and captains and we still have to work out the logistics of keepin' all three frigates stocked with jump fuel, ordnance, and what have you. But it's comin' together, and once it's done that squadron is gonna be a very nice stick to beat annoyances to death with.

********

Thane snapped his fingers and pointed at the grass between his feet. Mickey, his white Asian mastiff, delicately set the ball down in front of him. Maggie immediately started for it and Thane promptly 'tutted'. Then, with a look and an arched eyebrow, he commanded his dogs to sit and wait. They all obeyed but Max. The puppy was still the exception. After a moment Maggie noticed him and barked. An instant later all four of the older dogs were all looking at Max sternly, as if reprimanding him. After a moment of this Max licked his chops, glanced from Maggie to Duke and then to Thane himself and finally parked his butt on the floor.

"Braver hund!" Thane said while collecting the ball. The instant it was in his hand he began tossing treats to all the dogs.

"Dockmaster?" It was the quavery voice of Gamen Longbones, Lurche's replacement, calling to him from the top of the stairs near the pantry. Thane sighed through his nose at the thought of the old man. He'd known Lurche for over thirty jazura. The old man had been as dry as parchment and perpetually disapproving of damn near everything, but he'd been one of the very few people in the universe that Thane trusted completely. Seeing the old man shot to death just outside his door had been another heartbreak on a day that had been replete with loss. As his spirit sagged Maggie looked up at him, ignoring the bits of beef jerky he'd just handed out. She held his eye for a moment and then tilted her head curiously. A moment later all of his dogs were watching him. After a moment he smiled for them, then took a breath and met the old man's gaze.

"What is it?"

Longbones was one of those odd old pirates who either didn't know how strange he was or just didn't care. He was balding on top but had let the rest of his hair grow halfway down his back. At the same time he was astutely clean shaven, although he never seemed to trim the hairs growing out of either his nose or his ears. He dressed impeccably in expensive suits but somehow all of his pants were too short, and always exposed white socks under perfectly pressed dark tweed cuffs and black leather shoes polished to a mirror finish. He carried around a stained and yellowing silk handkerchief that Thane suspected was as old as the man himself and hadn’t been cleaned in nearly a decade. Longbones wore the nasty thing in his front breast pocket like a flower. In his other he kept a stuffed hamster that Thane had actually heard the crazy bastard talking to on more than one occasion.

"It's a call for you, Ser," Gamen told him in his quavery, growling old pirate's voice. "From the stock exchange. It's Master Gorda, Ser. He seems distressed." Longbones spoke this last word in a long, growling hiss as if he liked the taste of it.

"Alright," Thane told him. "I'll be there in a mizura."

"Of course, Ser," Gamen replied and then turned to make his hunchbacked way back into Thane's apartment.

Thane rubbed Maggie's head, then handed out another round of treats. A few moments later he left the lawn and his recovering rose garden to make his way back up into his apartment. Stepping into his kitchen he was greeted by the mixed smells of charcoal, fresh paint, and cleaning chemicals as teams continued to work under the supervision of an art restoration expert that he'd managed to poach away from the Interplanetary Institute of Historical Preservation, and a handful of his most trusted guards. The guards had already caught one thief. Thane shook his head at the thought. He actually felt sorry for the poor bastard. The fool had the misfortune of being the first, and so far only, chump to try his luck, and was currently being made an example of. The wretch was now being tortured to death somewhere in the shipyard's bowels and had already been begging for death for two whole days now. The whole thing was being televised for anyone on the shipyard to watch. For his own part Thane thought it was a distasteful spectacle, but it did make a point.

A few moments later he sat down at his desk and accepted the feed from Gorda. One look at the fat man was enough to let him know that something was wrong. The man had removed his wig and was rubbing his face with the heels of his sweaty hands, unmindful of the damage to his makeup, while Andre massaged his shoulders. “Oh, but it's terrible…" Gorda moaned pitifully. "Don't you understand what this could mean?!"

"Gorda," Thane greeted the other man.

Gorda blinked and turned to face the camera. "Thane!" he exclaimed. "Oh good! You're finally here! We may have a problem!"

"'May have' or 'do'?" Thane asked.

"'Do'," Andre informed him archly.

"It's the boy!" Gorda said, flapping his hands on the desk. "He killed Hatibmanckarsat!"

"Your contact in the pontifex?" Thane asked.

"The Archminister of Mineral Acquisitions and Disposal for Heaven's Assertion, yes!"

"Why the hell would he do that?" Thane demanded.

"I called him up to ask the same question!" Gorda quivered. "Why would you do that?! Why did you that?!"

Thane scowled and waited.

"Do you know what he tells me?!"

Thane's scowl darkened but he said nothing. Gorda required a soft touch.

"S'jar t'Chk," Andre said blandly, "ordered him to."

"WHAT?!" Thane boomed so loud that all of his dogs started. Duke jumped to his feet and barked at the office hatch.

"No!" Gorda said. "No, he didn't say that! He started asking me questions. He wanted to know why I was interested, and who Hatibmanckarsat was. That kind of thing. But at the end I saw it in his face! Thane! It was a contract! He'd been hired to do it! And then, less than twenty mizura later, I found out that Siggy Faris has been killed!"

"Who is Siggy Faris?" Thane demanded.

Gorda leaned in, wide eyed and trembling, to look Thane in the face.

"His spy aboard the Brimstone," Andre stated, stealing the drama from his lover’s moment.

Gorda immediately shot the other man an annoyed look, then met Thane's eye again. "Yes," he said. "My spy aboard the Brimstone."

Thane sighed heavily and shook his head. "Damn," he cursed. "The boy didn't cut t'Chk in."

"That's what I thought, too," Gorda told him. "But Andre's not convinced."

Thane tugged on his beard, as if he could pull understanding from the depths of his mind. Maggie plopped her head in his lap and he surrendered his beard to rub her ears.

"But if I had to?" Mel offered. "I'd bet my wig that he didn't mean any insult by it!"

"Who? The boy?"

"Yes, the boy!" Gorda snapped. "By not cutting t'Chk in! I don't think he meant any disrespect...!"

"Aye," Thane agreed. "He just didn't know any better."

"Well," Andre inserted, "intentional or not t'Chk is now actively working to sabotage the boy. He's used the fool to kill this Hatibmanckarsat as well as attack Abmanckusset's customers."

"He did what?" Thane asked.

"The Osan'gar destroyed a centaur and fighters that was on their way to the barracks in Weaver's Tempest," Gorda explained, while shooting Andre more irritated glances.

Thane frowned and glanced at Andre. The silver haired fellow met his eye from behind Mel. As he did he arched an eyebrow and Thane all but heard the man's thought spoken aloud. 'What if this is more than a temper tantrum?' Thane scowled in response.

"What are we going to do about this, Thane?!" Gorda asked him.

Thane rubbed Maggie's ears as she looked at him soulfully. After a moment he lifted his gaze to look through the hyperglass of his office. Not too long ago he'd been trapped in this room while assassins burned his treasures and tried to cut their way in to kill him. As hard as he tried to, it was impossible to ignore the fact that he owed his continued existence to the fact that Drakhar both came when he called for help and then revealed the depths of Huritas' treachery to the whole council, effectively saving not only Thane's life and position, but prevented a Wakiya backed coup in Yaki space that would have seen all of their heads on spikes. Finally he looked back to Gorda and Andre.

"This doesn't feel right," he stated.

"Which part?" Andre asked caustically while Mel asked, "What do you mean?"

"If this was about money all t'Chk would have to do is demand his tribute from the boy," Thane stated. "Even if this was about t'Chk's face within his clan all he'd have to do is have Drake perform some act of contrition."

Behind Mel Andre continued to watch him.

"No," Thane rumbled. "Something else is afoot here."

"Oh my," Mel said breathlessly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

"What are you thinking, Dockmaster?" Andre asked.

Thane shook his head. He glanced down at Maggie. "I think that boy has created two enormous complexes," Thane stated. "A feat most of us lack the contacts to duplicate. With them he has an enormous amount of power. He already supplies energy to just about every station in the territory, which has earned him no small amount of acclaim. All this has happened in a very short time." He looked up at the two men staring back at him. “It’s possible he’s looking like a better Clan Leader than t’Chk is.”

“So you think this is about dominance?” Andre asked him. “A contest between alpha males?”

Thane shrugged. Then he scowled as an even darker possibility occurred to him.

“What?!” Mel Gorda demanded.

Thane glanced at the two men. "Well,” he rumbled, “if t'Chk can discredit the boy," he said, “and paint him as a threat to the Yaki…”

“Much like the boy just did with Huritas?” Andre suggested.

“Aye,” Thane nodded and then turned a hand over on his desk, "then the boy would be either killed or exiled and, as clan leader, it would be t’Chk’s prerogative to do with the boy's possessions as he sees fit."

Mel's mouth suddenly fell open and he seemed to swoon. "Ohhhh!" Behind him Andre smiled thinly and nodded.

"Ships," Andre mused caustically, "stations..."

"And everything those stations produce!" Gorda all but wailed.

"Aye," Thane growled. After a moment he stood and stepped away from his desk. With Maggie at his heels he walked up to one of the windows in his office and looked out over his apartment and the shipyard beyond. After a moment he turned and spat into a potted snake plant.

He was suddenly very uncomfortable. He’d been paying attention to what the boy had been building and for some reason had only seen the profit in those factories. It was good for all the Yaki to have access to weapons and jump fuel. But the idea of S'jar t'Chk in possession of that weapons complex felt like a bucket of ice water poured on his head. How had he missed such a threat? How had any of them? That complex, and the torpedoes it produced, was an incredible amount of power. How many nukes did the boy have? He knew Drake was selling mosquito and wasp missiles. He knew he was selling energy bolt chainguns and ammunition. He knew the boy had recently started supplying the equipment dock with twenty five megajoule shields. But he also knew the boy produced flail barrage missiles, typhoon swarm missiles, and nuclear tipped hammer heavy and tomahawk torpedoes, and those he did not sell.

How much power did the boy possess?

"Well we have to do something about this, Thane!" Gorda nearly shrieked behind him. "I don't like the idea of S'jar t'Chk with that much power any more than I do the idea of bowing and scraping for Huritas!"

Thane was staring at the waves of soot that had accumulated high on the walls of his apartment. He was thinking of the boy, laughing as he met Thane's dogs, enchanted by Thane's possessions, but then suddenly and completely present when the conversation turned to business. He thought of the boy's eyes. They had been so cool, so calm, and so intelligent that Thane had remembered a wolf he'd once seen watching him through the snow.

Behind him Gorda was palpitating. "I don't think I can take this!" Mel was saying. "Is this another coup attempt in the same week?! Heavens! Do you think we should just retire?"

"I think you should have a drink," Andre told him.

"That's a lovely idea," Mel agreed. "Get the boy with the fermented honey, would you?"

Thane turned back to the camera. Gorda was fanning himself with an elaborate oriental hand fan. Andre, on the other hand, was watching Thane. At the dockmaster's expression Andre arched an eyebrow and nudged his partner. When Gorda looked at him Andre nodded to Thane.

"What?!" Gorda asked at the sight of him.

Thane clenched his jaw as he thought about it. Then he took a breath and nodded to himself. It was the kid's eyes that made him sure. "S'jar t'Chk worries me," he stated.

“Well of course he does!” Mel shrieked.

Thane held up a hand. “But methinks the boy himself may be a more immediate threat.”

On screen Andre's perfect eyebrows knit together over his nose. “How so?” he asked.

Gorda simply shook his head and carried on with his hysterics. "A more immediate threat than t'Chk?! How can you not be worried about t'Chk?! That man is insane! If he manages to get his hands on those weapons...!"

"He won't," Thane said.

"How can you possibly know that?!" Gorda snapped at him, but behind him Andre suddenly understood and focused on Thane.

"Because," Thane said calmly, looking down at Maggie, who looked back with her huge, sad eyes, "that boy will kill all of us before he lets t‘Chk steal from him."

For a moment Mel Gorda was completely silent. Behind him Andre arched an eyebrow and watched Thane carefully. Finally Mel shook his head. "Well," he sputtered, "I don't like that any better than I do S'jar t'Chk being in charge!"

A second holo-screen activated beside the image of Mel and his partner. It was a simple message in plain text. Thane read it quickly and then began to laugh.

"What the hell is so funny?!" Gorda demanded.

Thane turned and walked to the windows so he could see.

"Thane?!" Gorda demanded. "What are you laughing at?! What's going on?!"

"The D.E.S.S. Sisyphyus," he boomed, "is just now docking at my shipyard with another full load of nividium." He turned and met Mel's eye. "And the boy just committed to at least another three."

Gorda's mouth dropped wide open. "My word!" he gasped.

"Aye," Thane chuckled.

"You see now why I was telling you to be nice to that boy?!" Mel nagged. "It is far better to have a profitable and dangerous man as your friend than it is to have him as an enemy and..."

"Oh shut up, Mel," Thane laughed. "I HAVE been nice to him! I've paid him very well for every job he's done for me. Not to mention the fact that..."

"You know I just realized something!" Mel announced, cutting Thane off. Thane immediately rolled his eyes and turned back to the docking hauler. "He actually is delivering a TL full of nividium every day!"

"Aye," Thane nodded, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. "That he has been."

"Well that settles it, then," Gorda said. "We have to do something about S'jar t'Chk before he gets us all killed. I'd much rather be rich than dead."

"Aye!" Thane laughed. "I would as well!"

"So," Andre asked, like sandpaper on delicate skin, "how are we to rid ourselves of a sitting clan leader before he orders the boy, a member of his own clan, to do something we might all regret?"

“Aye,” Thane rumbled. “That is the question, isn’t it?”

********

Right. Right. So, what else? What else? Oh! Of course. The minin' fleet. Believe it or not my minin' outfit has actually managed to fill the Sisyphus up again! And, incredibly, they are still workin' on that big bloody rock up in Spires of Elusion! In fact, judgin' by both the scans, the number of markers still up there, and the fact that there were just that many this time yesterday and I am thinkin' that it is not outside the realms of possibility that I get another load out of that rock. Which means Thane should be very happy. Not to mention that, so far at least, I actually have been deliverin' one TL full of nividium a day!

Huh… which, now that I think about it, might explain why he's been so nice to me. He must have been able to keep whatever promises he made based on my commitment, right? Well, so far so good, then. Oh, and I was careful not to...

Err, hold on.

...

Oh you have gotta be kiddin' me! Bloody idiot! Well, at least that didn't cost me much. The plane that moron was flyin' costs about as much as my cigars.

Riiight.

Okay, well I have repeatedly agreed to meet with Doctor Jared and just about every time I do something has come up. H'nt has been on my back about the guy for days. It's my fault of course. I'm the one that keeps makin' appointments with the old guy and then blowin' him off. But, I suppose I'll go make the old man's year by introducin' him to the artificial general intelligence that he's already been best buds with for the last couple weeks. Heh! Yeah. Well, hopefully this will be as amusin' to witness as I'm expectin' it to be. Either that or I'm about to kill the old guy by givin' him an apoplectic fit.

Huh?

...

Yeah?

...

Yeah. Send her in...

********

Seldon watched the kid's face as he read Nedley's report. It consisted of a news bulletin from Argon Prime coupled with background information about the subject. The article described how a man named Eduard Soyinka had been found late yesterday afternoon, sitting behind his desk in a secure skyscraper, behind no less than six layers of security, with multiple bodyguards positioned in the very next room, without his head. The article went on to explain how the crime was mystifying the man's security detail as well as the police investigating the crime. Attached were Nedley's notes, which revealed that Soyinka had been a lobbyist attempting to convince Parliament to relax legislation concerning the influx of foreign currency into the Argon Federation. Nedley also followed a number of large deposits made into Soyinka's personal accounts back through a series of dummy corporations and Teladi banks to the Sol system. Which meant someone broke into a high security skyscraper on Argon Prime, slipped past multiple layers of airtight security, got into the office of a man working to open the door for Terran money into the Argon Federation, decapitated the fellow and then left the scene... with the poor bastard's head... and did so without being caught on a single camera or seen by a single living person.

Drake looked up and met her eye. "You think this was Gin?"

"Don't you?" she replied. "They said the cut was so clean it could’a been surgical."

"And we think this guy was Wakiya?"

"I don't know if he was, but the money he represents is definitely Terran. Nedley asked Legion to help him follow the big deposits into his account and they all trace right back to the Sol system."

"Doesn't mean Wakiya..." he said.

"Doesn't NOT mean Wakiya, either. Besides the Wakiya are just one task force, Drake. If this is Gin, who the hell knows what trail she's following?"

Drake frowned. He stared at the page for another mizura or so. Finally he looked up with a pained expression. "Why the hell would she take his head?"

Seldon shrugged. "Hell if I know. Maybe she's startin’ a collection?"

He gave her the look he reserved for those times when he suspected that she'd just lost her mind. It was one she was uncomfortably familiar with. A moment later he shook his own head.

"I know," she said. "It's kinda grisly but… shit, Drake. Have you ever seen that woman go to work with those knives?"

He raised his eyebrows and stared at the article. After another moment he shook his head again, as if trying to clear it. "Well," he said. "There's nothin' we can do to help or hurt." He met her eye. "Thanks for lookin' into this, though. If anything else turns up you'll let me know?"

"Yeah," she said. "Of course. You meetin' with Doc Jared tonight?"

He nodded and glanced at his time piece. "He should be on his way now."

********

Sol couldn't get comfortable. The ship they'd put him on was a squarish, blocky thing that he suspected had been made by those little lizard people. The entire vessel felt like it had been cobbled together out of spare parts from any number of different sources. The result was a ship that came across as some sort of monstrous jigsaw puzzle, an impression that did not inspire confidence, especially when one was entrusting their life to the vessel. And even though it had been outfitted to accommodate human beings everything about it felt strange, awkward, and uncomfortable. The controls for damn near everything were built into the floor. So a person had to step on a button to open a door or turn on a light. And the proportions were all wrong. The ceilings were too low. The people spaces were too small. Even the chairs, which he was quite certain were made to accommodate human beings, felt as if their designers hadn't really known what human beings found comfortable and had just guessed at the proper proportions. So the seats were too long and too low to the ground. Which meant his feet were flat on the floor, his knees were up in the air, and the only way he could make use of the backrest was to slouch. All in all it was a miserable position to be in for any length of time, and that didn't take into account how hard the bloody things were, which was strange considering that they appeared to be padded. After just a few minutes his buttocks had begun aching from the firmness of the seat and his back was aching from the odd position.

The soldier who'd escorted him aboard had assured him that it would be a short trip but Sol was quite sure he'd been lied to. So far he'd been cooped up inside this uncomfortable metal coffin for the better part of what he guessed was a four hundred kilometer trip. First he'd left the Necromancer from it's anchorage in the asteroid field by that massive complex that seemed to have sprung into existence overnight. Then, after roughly a ten minute trip, the miserable vessel transporting him passed through a jumpgate. Beyond which was a lonely, bleak looking sector cloaked in perpetual twilight and another fifteen minutes of flying before they passed through another jump gate. That, in turn, led to another horrible, twilight colored sector… although this second one did have many more ships and stations to look at. But there followed another ten minute trip before his conveyance docked at a massive ship that he at first took for a station.

The pilot, who had promptly disabled the communicator shortly before takeoff, then informed him that they would be a few minutes while cargo was loaded and offloaded. Nearly twenty minutes passed while Sol sat on the miserably uncomfortable chair and stared through his porthole at nothing more interesting than a docking bay. But eventually the pilot spoke over the PA and informed him that they'd be leaving soon. Another ten minutes passed before the horrid little vessel launched again and made it's slow, crawling way toward yet another jumpgate.

Beyond that gate at least the scenery improved. It was a bright gold and green sector with more ships and stations, and far in the south was the enormous complex he'd witnessed through the windows when he'd first spoken with the current master of Sol Jared's fate; the terrifying and oh-so-elusive young Drakhar. Unfortunately the complex was so far away that he'd been unable to make out much more than a few sparks of light off the stations. Which meant a very lengthy trip across the sector. Now, after nearly two hours of sitting on the hard, badly proportioned and impossibly uncomfortable chairs of this horrid little craft, that complex was looming above him and he saw it for what it really was: a great city in space. It was so large that it actually rivaled some of the larger Terran installations, at least in scale. It was still crude and haphazard by comparison, an amalgamation of many factories and facilities rather than a grand realization of a single vision.

It was at this moment, with his face pressed against the window to study the city looming above him, that he first noticed the flickering lights ahead of his shuttle. He turned his gaze upon those lights and studied them. They were pulses of green and red and orange light drawn across the sky in varying streams, like squirts of water from toy guns with differing nozzles and pressure. After several moments, realization dawned within him and he felt his heart skip a beat. He was looking at powerful energy weapons being fired into space and, judging from the constantly changing positions of those streams, there were many sources. Which meant that he was looking at a pitched battle between perhaps a dozen ships! Worse still, the idiot pilot of his own craft was flying right toward them!

Sol unbuckled his safety harness and stood, momentarily reveling in the joy of no longer being sat on the horrid seat of that horribly made, hard little chair. A moment later he was making his way forward toward the hatch to the cockpit. When he reached it he thumped the meaty part of his fist against the door three times and called out, "I say! My good man! Do you see the battle ahead of us?!"

Just then the windows lit up with a bright green light and the entire ship shook so violently that Sol was thrown off his feet. "By Jove!" Sol swore, staring at the closed hatch while laying full length upon the deck. "You blooming bampot!"

********

Lieutenant Aylin Sillarn laughed as the old man cried out in the passenger compartment.

"Oh shit, Tomes," he said. "You should hear the old boy go! I don't know what he's saying but it's frakkin' hilarious!"

"Heh heh," Tomes 'Jackpot' Nedley chuckled. "Glad to help, Dancer. I still think it's a bad idea but we've got the guns turned way down anyway, so..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But you should see this guy, Tomes. He's so uptight that a little scare is sure to loosen him up. Hey, so what are you guys doin' way down here, anyway?"

"Mock dogfights," Jackpot replied. "Me and seven other pilots from the ‘Farm are supposed to fly picket around those two Panthers while some of the more experienced pilots try to get through."

"Will you get in trouble for helping me?"

"I shouldn't," Jackpot said and Aylin could hear the grin in the man's voice. "I mean I'm doin' what I'm supposed to do, right? ‘Maintaining the outer perimeter, sir!’"

Aylin chuckled and shook his head. He seriously doubted the CAG would see it that way. But no harm, no foul, right? "Well, thanks again, mate. I'm gonna go make sure the old guy hasn't pissed himself."

"Yeah. And I better get back to it before somebody notices that I'm out of posi… OH SHIT!"

Aylin whipped his head about to see Jackpot's susanowa. Nedley was about three klicks off his starboard side and had just been lit up by twin streams of bright green plasma and energy bolts. An instant later a pair of missiles slammed into Jackpot's back end. An instant after that a pair of what looked like streamlined novas broke and flew past him in perfect synchronicity. One broke to starboard while the other roared by so close to Jackpot's susanowa that Aylin watched that almost-nova's main thrusters ripple Jackpot's shields.

'Oh frak,' Aylin thought, feeling a kind of sick dread spread outward from his guts. A moment later a new voice intruded into their "private" comm channel. "I do hope you enjoyed that stunt, Nedley, cos it just cost you your life." It was Commander Chinomu. "RTB and get out of my plane. You're done for the day."

"Roger that," Jackpot acknowledged, sounding bleak and hopeless. "Return to base. Over."

"And is that Lieutenant Aylin Sillarn flying that falcon transport?"

Aylin winced. Being called out by this particular woman was rarely good. He was quite sure his life was about to become hell. "Yes, ma'am," he said to his boss's boss's boss.

For a moment the open line crackled in his ear. "Sillarn," she said at last, "if I understand correctly, you have a passenger aboard, and that passenger is both an elderly scientist and personal guest of the man who owns the company that you work for. Is that correct?"

Aylin grit his teeth before answering. "Yes ma'am," he said.

"And just so I'm clear, this little adventure was not part of the trip your passenger was expecting?"

"No ma'am," he said.

"So, am I to understand that you believe your duties include risking the life of your passenger for your own amusement?"

"Uh… ma'am?"

"His health is poor, Lieutenant. Your idea of horseplay could cause any number of health related problems."

"Oh..."

"Lieutenant," Chinomu asked lightly, "are you aware of how stupid you are or do you need it explained to you?"

"It is becoming abundantly clear, ma'am."

"Good," she replied. "Now apologize to your passenger and pray to any gods you believe in that word of your stupidity doesn't reach your employer."

"Yes ma'am."

The crackling of an open comm channel cut out. He was alone in his head again. After a moment he shook his head, feeling the sudden and unfortunately familiar weight of consequence after an act of pure boneheadedness. He glanced at the camera showing him his passenger. After a moment he realized the old fellow seemed to be having a coughing fit.

Suddenly his prank didn't seem that funny.

********

"Shit, Vampire," Hunter laughed as he settled into formation beside her. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"If you still needed that lesson, Hunter," she told him, "you would not be flying my wing."

"Roger that," he replied.

She glanced back toward the fracas between them and the pair of panther frigates standing guard in front of the Alpha Complex. Deuce and Low-Angle, several of her better teachers, were each leading a squad of susanowas piloted by her stronger nuggets. They were flying varying patrols around the Panthers. Their job was to challenge any "enemies" violating a twenty kilometer perimeter around the motherships and encourage those enemies to piss off. Meanwhile she, Leo 'Hunter' Gilharno, Jak "NOGAS" Sorell, and Abel "Zen" Gilharno acted as the OPFOR by probing the nuggets defenses, assaulting their lines, setting up and executing ambushes, and generally made the newbies lives miserable. That furball was the result of NOGAS and Zen harassing Low-Angle's squad of nuggets, who had apparently uncaged a swarm of drones.

Eri rolled her eyes, knowing that it had been Siobhan Kult who gave that particular order. Low-Angle didn't like to lose, hated being embarrassed, and had a habit of changing the rules when they didn’t work in her favor. This exercise was supposed to give the nuggets some hands on experience while giving Eri and the other members of the OPFOR the opportunity to kick the Venti's tires, but apparently Kult decided to ensure that even the teachers got some hands-on experience. Eri smiled, feeling the deep, slow swell of her own satisfaction. If she'd accepted the verdict of the psych-evals Kult would have been cut from the roster weeks ago due to unresolved issues and emotional instability. Yet here she was, a competent, unpredictable pilot, fiercely protective of her subordinates and generally a force to be reckoned with. Eri chuckled to herself as she watched NOGAS and Zen maneuver to escape the engagement before being "killed".

"Alright," Hunter mused in her ear, "so I'm just curious now, but...?"

"Here it comes," Eri said, already rolling her eyes.

"Well," he went on, "I was just wondering about the mossies," he said.

"What about them?" she asked dryly.

"Well," he continued in the slow, musing way he had, "if our weapons had been set to full power Jackpot would now be a cloud of vapor. So were the two mossies really..."

"Necessary?" Eri finished for him. "No. But I wanted to drive my point home. So think of the mossies as my boot up his ass."

She could almost see Leo's pursed lips and the slow, even nod of his helmet. "He ever gonna fly again?"

"Shit, Leo!" she laughed at him. "If I fired every idiot who needed a lesson in common sense I'd be out here by myself. Belay that. That's not even true. I wouldn't be out here either."

"You, ma'am?!" he said disbelievingly.

"Yes, me," she shot back at him. "What do you think? I've always been 'the cast iron bitch'?"

"Uhh..."

She smirked and rolled her eyes as Hunter struggled to find a safe way around her 'unofficial' callsign. She adjusted the nav data and sent it to Leo. They both banked to port and upped the throttle, hunting Deuce and his nuggets.

Eri nodded to herself at the smooth power in the ship around her. So far she liked the venti. It was both faster and more maneuverable than the tenjin. It had stronger shields and an additional weapon mount. Unfortunately it possessed weaker generators for both weapons and shields. Which made it excellent for fast strikes but not as strong for longer engagements. The weaker generators would struggle to keep the weapons powered and the shields charged when the systems were under heavy load. To compensate she could use energy bolt cannons, an ammunition based weapon that her employer now produced, but the only way to compensate for the shields was to not get shot.

Another issue with the Venti was that it had very different weapon mounts than the tenjin. On the tenjin the guns were all located above and behind the cockpit, resulting in a dense, compact firing stream that made putting maximum energy on target an intuitive proposition. The venti, on the other hand, mounted the weapons along the wings and tail, which made range to target a much more significant variable. So far she'd run nearly a dozen different configurations through the simulator and wasn't completely happy with any of them. Finally she'd decided on 4x HEPTs and 6x EBCs in separate groupings with a single PRG in the rear turret to supplement the mossies for missile defense. The HEPTs she had outboard on the wings, reasoning that they'd be used primarily against larger, slower moving targets where the girth of the firing spread wouldn't matter as much. So far she'd found it acceptable, although she'd already decided that there would need to be some pilot education regarding manual range-finding and gimbal adjustments in the event of damage to the automatic systems. But, although she'd still need to go over gun cam footage and run the math to ensure the best configuration and approach vectors to get the most wattage on target, her gut was telling her that she was close to her final loadout.

Just then she saw five silver points of light flying low to port. An instant later the holographic overlay on venti's canopy bracketed them. "Alright, Hunter," she said, switching to professionalism in a single heartbeat, "ten o'clock low. Over."

"I see 'em, Vampire," he replied. "So what's the plan? Over."

"Looks like they're about to fly between the panthers. Lets let 'em do it and use Panther 1 as cover for our approach. Then we'll see how well Deuce was paying attention last week. Over."

"Roger that, Vampire. Class is in session. Over."

********

Continued…