A.N. = Fair warning I switch narrations from the first person with Jack to the limited third person for the Operative which this story fallows a bit more.

Now for those what dont know, Boros is an awful long ride in a vessel as small as Shadow. Weren't for music and working out some, I would develop a tad bit of a leak in the brain-pan as it were. People deal with the quiet in other ways them is mine, and deal is what I do to keep flyin'. Even though I'm not feeling like the brightest of folks at present due to the very simple fact that, I just took a job smuggling for a man I don't know. And taking from one ya hardly know ain't what people call sane, or smart. But a jobs a job and I have a need to eat some time in the next week. All I real could hope for was that this job paid out and that all goes smooth. Though it never do.

And as I thinking on that and was reaching for my meager rations the lights went out in the cockpit and main cabin area. In fact the lights all over the ruttin ship were out.

"Ah yah, gorramin lights," I say stumbling from my bunk in the back corner of the cockpit and found the pilots chair. "this ain't a power failure, I still got thrust bein' generated, an' life support n gravity." I say as I think out loud. "This is why I need to bring on a full time mechanic, I missed something." I turn in my chair, and reach my hand in to a storage compartment and feel around. "Where's my rutten data-book." I feel around a bit more before I find the familiar smooth surface of my data-book. "Ah. Now let try an trouble shoot this." I pull out a stylus and a connector cable and plug it into a port on the main console, and turned on the screen of the data book.

Instantly a welcome screen flashed on. "Voice print recognition, required." Chimed a female electronic voice.

" Jackson Fauss."

"Welcome, Lieutenant Fauss." I look at the screen with a bit of contempt. My old boss was an old undercover browncoat that got stranded in the core at wars end. When he had the book made he had it programed to always recognize my military rank.

The book went to a start screen. I took the stylus out I click on the icon used to represent my ship hacking software, meant to interact with the computer systems on any know ship in the alliance database, even the big old cruisers. Even found the coding for an Ark once didn't keep that seeing as i'll never need to steal one. Or even work on one. This software can be used as a diagnostic system as well which makes it infinitely useful. As long as I have good connection to a terminal.

That's the only problem with this hacking business is that to do any good on any ship of good size I need to be in direct connect to the main computer terminal. Or else the redundancy of the firewalls, and not to mention any security personnel that be hanging about could muck up any job. Though truth be told, its not impossible and its very doable, I just wouldn't recommend it on anything alliance'y.

After fumbling around in the dark cabin to jack into the main computer, I click on the box that indicates im hacking into a Wren class transport. A few creative key strokes and im in the computer and accessing the diagnostic screens. In moments I have a read out of systems injured and whole list of others that are just fine. "No problems, Huh? Weird wonder why the lights went out?" I reached over and pressed the switch that turns on the cockpit lights, and behind me a relay blows with a loud pop and sparks fly into the darkened room.

"What the hell." I jump up in my seat a little and turn and see where the pop had come from. "Rutten hell" I look down at the updated screen. " so an auxiliary power relay is blown... source?" I click on the little line of text to bring up a new menu. I click on the locate option. The computer opened a new window showing me a schematic of the ship and a cross-hair on the location where the relay cup link is located. "well this is just shiny."

Oh Hera in the town of Grainhal. A dark figure stalks the docks, searching and asking questions of various residence about ships and ease of repair. Not satisfied with any of the answers he was receiving. He take a watchful position in an unoccupied ally. " Transportation proving more difficult to find then previously expected. I have lost enough time on this minor errand, stealing a ship soon." He clicked a small button on his wrist. A chirp followed from his watch. He pressed another small button, "Yes?"

"Cody? Is that you? Where are you? What happened?" A voice came from the tiny screen on his wrist. He backed further into the ally so as to not attract attention. On the screen was a man with light brown hair and a pair of dark glasses on. He wore a face full of emotions; anger fear worry, dread. The nostrils on his wide nose flared as he was walking out of breath.

"Kory, you shouldn't have called me here. They track all communications."

" I don't care, they've killed all of them Cody I need to hide."

"What? Who killed Who?"

"I don't know they came when I was at work the news on the cortex said they linked the murder of your family to me and some people in army uniforms came in while I was at work and killed my family. They didn't care that the surveillance strips were on they just came in and.. "

"Kory where are you?"

"I'm hiding from the police in one of the crowded sectors of the city. I need to get out of here.?"

"Go to my house I'll unlock it from here. I'm sorry they said that they would not link this to anyone but me. This is what I get for wanting to retire. When your in the house look in the kitchen find the oven and enter the numbers 0894 on the pad and then enter it will open a small locked safe grab the credit cards and the id in there show it to someone and they will think you're an operative. Make your way to the coordinates I'm sending you I'll meet you there. I must leave now every moment I'm on they will track the communication back to who ever I'm talking to. "

"Thanks bye." And the screen went blank.

He stopped staring at his wrist and looked concerned then went back to the hardened determination he normally wears. "This makes things complicated. I need to go."

Moments later a firefly transport roared out of the docks and broke atmo.

"Goddess Finally!" I shout at the sight of Boros through the cockpit windows at last.

After a weeks flight and a few minor malfunctions later, I was entering into high orbit over Boros.

Walking over to the console from my bunk were I was woken up by alarms telling me Boros was closing in, I sit down in y chair and flip off the annoying sirens and buzzing and fumble with picking up the comm box. I find a note attached to the little black box that was my comm, don't know how i didn't notice it on Hera. Or the week following. In it was a specific frequency to call when I reached Boros. I entered in the code and started my broadcast.

"Boros this is Wren class transport Shadow."

"Rodger that shadow," a voice came over the comm. in a most unusual accent." We were expecting you an hour ago. Run into trouble? "

I thought about it for a moment, he meant alliance patrols and the like im sure, "no more 'n usual. Slight twitch with the electrical but its good. Requesting landin' coordinates."

" Coordinates are following broadcast you are clear." With that I made my decent on to the dusty rock of Boros.

After landing safely on the planet surface and make my way to the cargo area to prepare for the unload. My wrens been modified so that the cargo hold is a permanent part of its body. The bulk of these ships are small little cargo haulers that hold maybe bout 10 tons of cargo at absolute max, standard about five tons though. With two thirty degree swivel fusion thrusters on either side of the main body of the craft and a grave thruster on its aft quarter. They ain't to fast but it moves and thats all I need, well needed if this job goes well and they have some more work need doing I'm gonna need a bigger ship. I take the step downs to the base of the tiny ship to open the cargo ramp, and get this shindig started and over with.

The door to my hold is one that needs opening from the outside after a sufficient cooling time that is. But being exposed to the heat and cold of spaceflight and vacuum sealed to boot it has developed a bit of a stick. So after a few tries at opening it and some snickers coming from the dock workers coming to unload I get her open. I was told by an acquaintance once that I should look into getting that fixed, I always said it was better then no stick at all. The door finally opened and the loading ramp lowered, I take my steps into the hold and step to the side and let the men get to work and just enjoy the fresh air, well fresher then whats in my ships processors, and the slight spring breeze blowing through the docks. The dock yard here was on the outskirts of a little town, type of place that looks peaceful and nice, but looks deceive. A man that was waiting in the shade of a near by building walked up to me.

He was tall and dark skinned wearing a pair of dark glasses that didn't look like they even allowed for sight. He had a wide nose and prominent lips, and a scar that went from atop the left eye to the center of his head. He nodded at me and waved over to the building. He flashed a grin as if trying to make me more comfortable with not knowing anything going on.

I was bout to offer him my hand and say my greetings when a small caravan of hover mules and men came our way. They parked there craft and started to pack up the already unloaded cargo while others helped the men still crawling about in my hold. One of the men that was dressed slightly nicer in a pair of clean coveralls and a badge that read shift foremen on it asked, "This that delivery from Hera?"

"It is." I reply

"Good." with that he got to work along with the rest of them. More just barking orders and assisting those that looked like they needed it.

I turn my attention to the big man that was still of to the side of my door way. " I assume your one of two things friend. Your either a hired man that is sent to make sure the hired men don't steal from the boss or you is the boss. Which, my I ask, is the current?" I said hoping not to sound to much like a dick.

He just turned his eyes to me and said nothing. With them glasses on couldn't tell if he was trying to enter into a stare down or just giving me his attention. The vibe I got said he was amused with the question as if there was a joke to be made, though his posture and face didn't say anything. I backed down the question. "Never mind, I'm a new guy shouldn't be ask'n no questions that gets in the way. I would how ever like to inquire as to the nature of the job I was told 'bout."

Then the man smiled not a big toothy mind, but a smile none the less, which took me for a surprise, he let that amusement show through after all. "A man of business. That's good the boss likes that." He said really surprising me with the neutrality of the accent.

I took the compliment, "What ever keeps me flyin'. Not to be gettin' sentimental but its all men like m'self got."

He looked down at the old brown uniform that every perspective employer seems so interested in, "and a risk taker too, wearing brown."

"Just cause the war stopped don't mean we're gone. I plan on bein buried in it."

"A genuine browncoat that still 'wears the brown' as it were. My this is good for you indeed, the boss will approve. The information on the next job will be given to you soon. I suggest you get any supplies you need for a trip to Greenleaf. the boss wants to meet you to discuss" he paused and picked his words, " discuss company policy." With that he handed me a bag of platinum and he and the men left, my hold mow empty I left to go out for supplies and parts. I Need to get to fixing stuff, guess its to a scrap yard for me.

I found a scrap yard not but a klick away from the landing spot went. Homey little place a house of two stories out front of a mass of scrap metal parts and gutted ships. I bet any little kid-lets wondrin about love to play in that. I walked into a door on the house that advertised they were open for business so I could get the ok to go and dig through the scrap.

I took my steps inside the modestly furnished but clean scrap-house and called out, "hello, anyone home?"

An older man, kind of the jovial looking sort wearing an old pair of coveralls came out of the back covered in black engine grease. He took station behind the business counter on seeing me there and asked in a kind surprisingly youthful sounding voice," Can I be help'n ya, son?"

"Ya might bein able to. I'm in need of parts, mind if I shop 'round?"

"No go on ahead, just bring me what it is your wantin to buy." he looked at me as if wondering if I could be trusted to do as he had asked. To busy to see to it himself.

"Scouts honor," I held up the sign and laughed at the little joke. But that seamed to placate him enough as he gave me a kind smile and did an about-face and walked out of the room saying, "I'll be holdin' ya to it, Son."

I walked around the yard for a bit. Looking for parts that would be useful to have and those that could maybe made useful. The yard wasn't anything special as far as these type of yards go it did deal with whole ships that was a bit odd, most places didn't do ships. Shuttles sure but this place had bulk antiqued vessels that looked as if they could still be able to fly, or like they were usable enough to get along for another few months if pushed into service. After looking around for a bit and finding everything useful I realized I couldn't haul it all by my lonesome. I was going to need to borrow the use of some equipment to get the buffer-panels and other assorted parts to Shadow. So I went about in search of the old man to get permission to use the magnetic lifter to shop had to get the buffer panel from the bottom of a heap. I was just waved on by the old man who was busy in his work cleaning a compressor for an engine. I took that as permission given.

When I got up to the high control seat I found that I could see the entire yard. There were ships to the east and north or the yard in there own lot wrapping around the yard, and all around me was a scrap yard with the house sitting about 70 meters to the south. I looked over the ship yard as I started up the lifter and was given a sight I didn't expect. Some thing I didn't expect to see ever again in this lifetime or in another hundred years.

A firefly Midbulk transport, but not the cargo hauler model, the blockade runner. And not just any other firefly. It was my Firefly. It was the Hammer.

"The Angels Hammer!?"