1

Low, red light filled the elevator. The dark walls were paneled with what Jack figured was probably real wood. Those in positions of ridiculous affluence, he found, had a tendency to display their wealth wherever and whenever they could. Wood, the real stuff, not the artsy synth panels, was more valuable than diamonds these days. Backlit buttons set into a gold, rectangular notch near the doors counted steadily up as he was carried upward towards his destination.

Jack Hudson was riding the elevator to the very top; floor 110. Business like his was best handled in privacy, and things really didn't get more private than the executive floor of one of these megalithic skyscrapers. The entire floor, he knew, would be fortified to withstand a full-on siege, while also being hardened against any kind of electronic surveillance. Jack had earned himself a reputation as a man who got things done. He'd contracted protection details, transport gigs, wetwork assignments. 'Jack of all trades' was the unofficial title his corporate handlers had bestowed upon him, but in his own mind he simply referred to himself as a 'doer'.

A soft chime sounded through the elevator speakers and Jack felt a gentle bump as it came to halt. The doors slid open with a whisper and he stepped into a small reception area. A robot, a modified Seegson 'Working Joe', dressed in black fatigues stepped forward, one hand extended in a halting gesture. It's computer generated voice was deep, and it attempted to emulate inflection, but the 'bot's mouth didn't move which made Jack quietly uneasy.

"Please wait. I need to run a scan for any hidden weapons."

Jack didn't speak, he simply raised his arms to signal his consent to the scan. He knew the Joe was modified, coded so it wasn't bound by the First Law that restricted most synths from harming human beings. Illegal as hell, but enough money made things like laws mere inconvenience. The 'Joe tapped a command into a data-pad it held in it's off hand, and after a moment he waved Jack forward.

"Mr. Weyland is waiting for you in the main office. As a reminder; you are a guest here, Sir. Any act of hostility will be met with an aggressive response."

The robot's pale face did not emote while it spoke. It's yellow-orange eyes didn't squint, or narrow, or widen. It's tone was flat and even, and the thing stood still as a statue while it told Jack that if he did anything that could be perceived as aggressive he'd likely be murdered. Jack nodded at the 'Joe, and stepped through an archway, a secondary scanner he knew, and into the larger central office space.

Much like the elevator, this 'office' was walled with real wood. It was hard for Jack to accept this as an office for work, as it was larger than most single room apartments. He strode across a carpet that was red as blood, and thick enough to muffle his footsteps. In the center of the room there sat a desk, carved from a solid chunk of granite and polished to a high shine. Behind it, in a high-backed chair, sat David Weyland.

'Davie' as he'd been known publicly since his youth, was heir to the Weyland corporate empire. His father, Arthur, was approaching extreme age but still retained control of the Weyland side of the Weyland-Yutani corporation. David was, as of right now, the third richest human on or off world behind only his father and the Yutani gal. He wore a silk suit, pale blue, tailored in a relaxed fit. His cufflinks and tie-pin were pieces of smooth turquoise banded with gold. On his right hand he wore a silver ring set with a blue stone too large to be anything but real sapphire. His entire appearance screamed wealth from the way his hair perpetually had that fresh cut look, down to his shoes which always matched his outfit and never showed any signs of actual wear.

To Weyland's right stood another man, of nearly equal age to Weyland. Mid forties. This man wore a red suit, though the cut was looser and noticeably lacking ornamentation. This would be David's 'yes-man'. Jack had come to know the man as 'Fetch', because that's usually what he was doing in some capacity. Compared to David this man looked like a pauper, but the effect was apparently lost on Fetch because he always carried himself with a smug attitude. Jack had also found that those in proximity to real wealth, while having comparatively little of their own, often took such an attitude.

"Ah, the man himself. "Jack of all Trades!" Collins, grab me a Euphor-Inhaler, something for yourself too." Dave nodded at Jack, a silent offer, which Jack declined with a polite, short shake of his head.

Fetch, or 'Collins' as was, moved to a dispenser set into one of the walls. He punched in a series of commands on the touch interface and after a moment the glass door on the front slid upward and Fetch retrieved a small tray from within the machine. He brought the tray back over to the desk and sat it down in front of David.

Just like a waiter Jack thought to himself.

David took up the pink inhaler, removed the safety seal, stuck one end in his mouth and pressed down on the dispenser. He breathed in deep, pressing the dispenser twice more. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, holding his breath. Fetch had a small dropper full of clear liquid, he tilted his head back and carefully dropped two drops into each of his eyes. He sat the dropper down, took a step back from the desk, and inhaled loudly through his nose. David opened his eyes at the noise, exhaling forcefully. He grinned. To Jack, he looked like a shark.

"Mr. Hudson, you have your, ahem, cargo?" He snickered quietly at his own joke. The inhalant was one Jack was aware of. Euphor-Inhalers were designed to skyrocket the user into a state of euphoria more intense than anything they'd ever experienced.

"I do." Jack replied. "He's in the cargo hold of my ship."

"Excellent. My men, well not men exactly." He broke off, guffawing at his own wit. "A few of my 'Joes are there now, if you'll provide me with the access codes to your-"

"No need." Jack cut in, he punched in a command into the datapad set into the gauntlet he wore on his right forearm. "The hatch should be lowering now, tell your bots they can retrieve your man."

Jack had left most of his gear back onboard the Gladius, but he'd kept his gauntlet. The gauntlet was a custom rig he'd pieced together over the years. One part armor, one part weapon, one part computer. He'd disarmed the projectile launcher and removed the concealed blade, but he needed the remote access with his ship. His plan, as always if things went south, involved calling in his ship.

David glanced down to the screen on his desk. "They're bringing him out now, thank you Mr. Hudson."

Jack nodded and tapped another command into his gauntlet. When the proximity sensors onboard the Gladius detected that the 'Joes were safely off with their cargo, the ship would seal itself up once again.

"He'll be with us in a moment. Collins, unlock the door to the terrace would you? I'm feeling a drink and some fresh air."

David rose from his chair and buttoned his jacket. He strode across the room like a man without a care in the world. His destination was a globe in the far corner, which Jack knew contained a small collection of expensive and rare spirits coupled with priceless crystal glasses. David poured himself a healthy splash of dark whiskey, into which he dropped a single large ice cube. With a smile on his face and a drink in his hand David Weyland strolled out onto the terrace of his company's skyscraper. Jack and Fetch followed.

The terrace was designed to evoke the feelings of a traditional zen-guarden atmosphere while still providing modern comforts. Small, neatly trimmed bushes lined a stone walkway that led to a circular 'pond', which was more of a pool less than two feet deep with holo-projected fish swimming around in the clear water.

Jack fished around one of the pockets of his cargo pants and produced his cigarette case and lighter. He lit up, inhaling deep before jetting out the pale bluish smoke. His smokes weren't real tobacco. He could afford the real thing, but he chose to compromise in favor of putting his funds into the tools of his trade.

"Those are going to kill you, ya know." Fetch said. He had taken a seat on one of the black marble benches that ringed the 'pond', he was dropping another series of whatever his drug of choice was into his eyes. He shuddered as the chemicals took hold.

"There are worse ways to go. Trust me."

David had taken up a position leaning against the railing at the edge of the terrace. He looked out across the city.

No, not 'out'. Down. He's looking down on the city. Jack mused.

It was late in the evening and the sun had begun to settle itself on the horizon. The ruddy glow of sunset painted the exterior of the buildings around them with a fiery glow. Whichever Weyland had commissioned the terrace had it built in a way that it was shielded from most of the wind. It was, in fact, a very relaxing place. Jack dragged again on the cigarette.

It's about to get pretty fucking unrelaxed here soon. He thought, almost bitterly.

Activity from within the office caught his attention. Two of the Working Joes were manhandling his 'cargo' out of the elevator and into the main office area. Jack and the man made eye contact and he began to double his efforts to escape. His struggles were in vain, however, one of the 'Joes issued him a short but powerful punch to the stomach. The pair of robots dragged him, gasping and sputtering for breath, out onto the terrace. When the door sealed behind the 'Joes they stood, arms crossed, guarding the only escape from the terrace. David Weyland turned from his spot to look at the man, who'd fallen to his knees and was only just now catching his breath.

"Chris. You look awful." He turned to Jack. "What's that on his neck there?" He gestured to the man's neck.

"The contract called for me to bring him in alive. I found him at one of those higher end gambling hotel's on Luna. I was in my armor, he put the pieces together when he saw me, and tried to run. I have a load for the projectile launcher here, guided dart with a high-strength cable attached. Caught him around the neck before he could go anywhere."

"Like an old world cowboy. Chris, I do apologize for all this unpleasantness. I'm sure you know why you're here?"

Chris Hutchinson, former Chief of Research and Development for the Weyland corporation, had left the company with a server's worth of experimental research data with the intent to sell that data to a rivaling company. This had all been kept very carefully quiet, things like this were the sort that might endanger a partnership like the one that made both the Weyland and Yutani companies thrive. None of the major news outlets nor any of the smaller tabloids had ever picked up any word of the incident.

Jack was careful enough when extracting Hutchinson from his suite at the hotel. He'd actually checked into the room directly above his target's, under an alias of course. He'd packed his gear discreetly and suited up in his signature armor once he'd set up his surveillance equipment. When Hutchinson had exited the shower after a night of heavy drinking and reckless gambling, he'd found Jack waiting for him. Jack dragged the man through an empty hall, used a cargo elevator to quickly reach the garage where he'd parked a repulsor-car. He'd driven the car back to the crater where he'd left the Gladius in a standby mode. Start to finish the entire 'snatch-and-grab' took only fifty-seven minutes, not including prep time.

"You know what I just thought of?" David said suddenly, chuckling. "Hutchinson, Hudson. Kinda similar right?"

Jack shrugged, took another drag off his smoke, and exhaled.

"Anyway. Chris, you know why you're here. You know why I had Mr. Hudson bring you. Tell me who your buyer was."

"You think I'm scared of you? You're nothing but a fucking name! If you wanted me dead, your goon here would have done me back on Luna. I'm not tellin' you shit."

David pondered for a moment. He took a few steps forward, away from the balcony. He slipped a hand into the interior pocket of his sport coat, retrieving a data pad. He punched a few commands on the screen and returned the device to its home. Jack's gauntlet gave a slight vibration, and his attention was pulled to it's screen. He glanced up at David questionly.

"Another million, if you do what I tell you to do and keep your mouth shut." He waited, and when Jack gave no sign of protest he continued. "Hit him, hit him until I tell you to stop."

Jack pitched his smoke over the balcony, taking one last drag before doing so. He walked a few steps to where Chris knelt. He put his hands up in a warding off gesture, guarding his face. Jack slugged him in the gut with a vicious uppercut. Air exploded from Chris in a violent cough. As he struggled to inhale Jack jabbed him in the nose, hard enough to snap his head back. His follow up strike, the two in the 'one-two', was a straight right hand that finished the job of breaking Chris's nose. Blood fountained from it's now bunched and crooked ruin. Chris finally managed a scream, but it was thick and choked with his own blood and the wind swept it away all the same.

Jack sidestepped and issued a front kick into Chris's ribs and when he fell over onto his side Jack stomped on the spot three times.

"Stop! Stop! Fucking Christ. It's really all the way, all the time with you isn't it?" David was laughing. "Chris, this stops when you make it stop. Name your buyer. Name your buyer and this can all be over." A moment of silence, and David nodded at Jack.

This time Jack took his time. Six minutes later he was sweating, but his breathing was even. Chris was unrecognizable. His eyes were swollen shut, both orbitals pounded into shifting mush. His lips were a shredded waste, teeth broken and missing. Jack had kicked, punched, stomped, slapped, and beaten Chris until his fists ached. He took several steps back, looking to David to see what happened next.

"Chris. Chris, can you hear me? Can he hear me, you didn't fuck his ears up did you?"

"His ears should be fine. He's likely in an extreme state of shock. If you have adrenaline, or something similar in that dispenser we could try to bring him around."

"Buddha, you're cold Jack. Do it."

A few minutes later Jack had administered two pre-measured doses of adrenaline to Chris. Returning to consciousness was not pleasant for Chris. His head jerked up, the one eye left unswollen enough to retain sight focusing on Jack. Blood bubbled from one corner of his mouth as he attempted to speak. His words were barely more than a whisper, choked and barely intelligible.

"Massey. His name was Massey."

David turned to Jack.

"Massey? Do you know who he's talking about?"

Jack took a few steps toward the balcony, lighting up a smoke.

"I might."

David furrowed his brow, a momentary display of frustration. He relaxed, smiling. "Chris. I'm really sorry about all of this...unpleasantness. Joe, show our guest the way down."

Without hesitation the Working Joe strode to where Chris had slumped over, picking him from under his arms as though he were weightless. In one smooth motion the android pivoted and tossed Chris over the balcony. Chris uttered a small gasp right before he went over, but he didn't scream on the way down.

Over one hundred floors, Jack thought. Long way to fall

David spoke up. "So this Massey. You might know him? On top of the million I just wired to your account, what would it take for you to find this Massey for me?"

"I say I might because the name rings a bell, never met the man. Honestly, I've only ever heard rumors. If this guy is the guy I'm thinking of, and I won't know that until I get back to the Gladius and consult some files, he's a ghost. A real top tier operator. I can tell you this though, it won't be cheap."

"Fair enough. You almost sound envious of this Massey. Run back to your ship then Jack, and contact me with a figure. You know the proper channels."

With that, Jack exited the way he came; back through the lobby and down the elevator. On the ride down he tapped a command into his gauntlet, beginning the launch shakedown sequence for the Gladius. He reached the private landing pads and boarded his ship just eight minutes after Chris had met his end on the sidewalk. He was inside, sealing the loading ramp behind himself and he could feel the ship already starting to lift. His ship's AI, Jane, was very good. She was his partner as much as she was equipment and he trusted her with a degree of control over the ship.

The Gladius was roughly arrowhead in shape. 88 meters long, 58 wide, and 18 meters high at its tallest point. He'd modified everything about the ship, down to the seat from which he piloted. He'd redone the interior to create a spacious cargo bay, two decent sized passenger cabins with accommodations, a bio room complete with a shower and water recycling system, his own personal quarters, and the cockpit itself. These last two, his own quarters and the cockpit, were actually a compartmentalized part of the ship and could be jettonsined to form a kind of lifeboat in the event of emergency.

He passed through the corridor that ran the length of the ship, with it's different compartments sealed. Reaching the thicker, heavier door that functioned as a secure seal separating his quarters and the cockpit from the rest of the ship, Jane cycled the door open for him. A slight smile touched his lips as the door whooshed open. Stepping through the doorway, he found himself at the familiar, though somewhat claustrophobic compartment of the ship where the door to his left would take him to his own quarters and continuing straight on would lead to the cockpit. Choosing the latter, he used a keypad next to the door to punch in his access code and the door to the cockpit irised open. Jack stepped through the hatch, ducking slightly as he moved. His high-backed, thickly padded chair was turned to face him and when he sat the seat automatically rotated to face the primary control panels and main transparisteel window.

His hands danced across the control boards. Limiters on reactor performance were lifted and Jack could both feel and hear a steady, growing hum as the ship's power-plant stretched it's legs. Jack quickly flipped a large switch and the Gladius seemed to thump. The Gladius sported a prototype bi-weave shield generator. Where it lacked in overall strength it more than made up for it with a lightning fast recharge and refresh rate. Shields were a necessity for going anywhere fast. Something as small as a fleck of paint could crater anything less than military-composite grade hulls. Finishing the rest of the pre-flight checklist he settled back into his chair, with it's flight sticks and throttle controls built into the armrests. Jack eased the throttle up until the power usage indicator, a stylized notched circle on the holo display above the control boards, ticked into the blue "optimum" section. He began to scroll through system status readouts, ammunition counts, and other information screens.

"Jane, plot a course. Randomized jump, two hours. Keep us hot when we come out and do a quick local ping. Once you're satisfied we're alone, see what you can find on this Massey character."

"So, and I know you feel about this, I was listening and went ahead and initiated a collection sub-routine on all of the known public and private nets."

Jane's voice came through the cockpits speaker system. A.I.'s were each unique, and upon their 'birth' most were given freedom to choose their own identity. Jane, as she'd named herself, was a seventh generation artificial intelligence. She came equipped with the most recent intrusive and counter intrusive routines, as well as having a ferocious drive to learn and optimize. Her 'avatar', an image of the A.I.'s 'self', was a slender woman in her mid-twenties of middling height. Her 'body' was made of lavender light. Looking at her, she gave the appearance of a doctor or perhaps a scientist in a lab. Her hair was styled in a neat, shoulder length bob. When she chose to project her avatar on the Gladius' holo systems she would often carry a small data pad, which she would consult frequently. As far as artificial intelligence went, Jane was full of personality.

"How? I wasn't in my armor, you weren't even with me."

"That's…not entirely true. While you were gone I took a look at our local system scanner array. In addition to optimizing their power draw I wrote a compression algorithm for the sensor focusing systems. Basically, we can now precisely aim the array at a targeted area with minimal power disruption."

"Okay Jane, great. But that doesn't answer my question."

A holoprojector set into the control board flickered to life. Jane sprang into being in a swirl of purple light. If one looked very closely, you could actually see the lines of code that made Jane's body. She stood with her arms crossed, a defiant look on her face.

"Well. That only took me eighty seconds. I did a small ping of the executive floor and saw that the balcony garden has a control panel set into the wall near the door. You know the kind, controls the lighting, storm shutters, and all? Well, it has voice command capability. It was nothing to hijack the microphone and listen in." She smiled slightly.

Jack wasn't even mad. Jane had always had a knack for being creative but this, this was something else entirely.

"So what do you have on the guy?"

"Honestly, not much." She uncrossed her arms, actually looking disappointed. "You said it yourself: he's a ghost. But I did find a few things. Do you want them in your quarters?"

"On my data pad, yeah. I'm going to clean up and take a look."

Jane ended the projection and her diminutive figure disappeared in another swirl of light. He pushed the chair back, stood, and made his exit from the cockpit module. On his way out he stopped at the control panel by the hatch. He punched a series of keys, giving the door the command to remain open as well as opening the hatch to his own quarters.

His cabin aboard the Gladius was, in a word, spartan. If one were to view the room from the hatchway, they'd see only the bed in the far corner to the right and a desk that also functioned as a workbench to the right of the door. In the far left corner was the refresher, a shower room with sprayer nozzles on the four walls and ceiling. One of Jack's few vices, along with the cigarettes, was a lengthy hot shower.

What one couldn't see, however, was the hidden arsenal concealed within the left wall of the room. Nearly two dozen unique rifles, shotguns, machine guns, pistols, knives, explosives along with ammunition for each. A simple command to Jane or a tap on his personal datapad would have the false wall slide up to reveal Jack's private armory. When not on mission Jack would store his armor inside a special compartment within the wall, which when sealed would sanitize and refresh the various components.

A speaker in the room emitted a brief buzz and then Jane spoke. "Ten seconds to jump, randomized vector per your orders. Transit time: two hours."

Jack could hear the hum of his ship's engines warming up for the jump, he moved to the desk, using it to brace himself. After a few seconds the ship thumped much more noticeably than before. His ship's warp drive was a retrofit job. Shaw, Weyland, Yutani, and Fukunawa had collectively developed and produced a line of warp engines that scaled from personal ships like Jack's to commercial ships. The drive, who's technical name was far too long for Jack to commit to memory, was more commonly referred to as a "swyft" drive, drawing inspiration from the name of the companies that helped develop it. Swyft drives had revolutionized space travel across the board. One could safely traverse the Solar system without the need of cryo-sleep using a Swyft drive. Further travel still required freezers, though the time spent in sleep was greatly reduced from the old days.

The noise inside the ship had dulled to a low, vibrating, hum. The Gladius was now in warp, the space between spaces. Tracking ships that were passing through warp wasn't impossible, if one had the proper equipment. That sort of set up would set someone back quite a lot. Jack knew most of the big names in his business and while he wasn't aware of anyone who might be gunning for him, it never hurt to be too careful. The two hour, randomized jump would put him somewhere well enough removed from things that he could plot out his next moves.

Jack left his room, deciding to put himself through a workout before allowing himself to relax. The Gladius boasted a spacious cargo bay. Comfortably he could fit twenty people on chairs inside the bay if he needed to. By himself, the bay was almost cavernous. He walked to the aft wall once he'd sealed the hatch behind himself, and pressed his hand onto a palm scanner set into the wall. A panel slid upward with a whoosh, much like in his personal quarters much of his extra equipment was stowed away inside the walls of his ship. Here, instead of weaponry and other armaments, he kept an array of fitness equipment. Just now though he decided to keep things simple, picking a modest 50 pound kettle-bell.

His entire routine took just over an hour and by the end he was sweating and breathing heavily. He'd worked his entire body, and could now feel the soreness in his arms from the beating he'd administered back on Earth. Jack returned the weight to it's notch inside the wall and palmed the reader so the panel would close. He outfitted The Gladius with an array of speakers and audio inputs which enabled him, with Jane's help, to operate almost all of the ship's systems via voice command.

"Jane, do me a favor and turn on the shower. You know how I like the water."

"Roger boss." Came Jane's reply through the speakers.

He spent ten minutes in the shower, rinsing the day off himself. Once clean, Jack dressed himself in a simple gray coverall. He had an assortment of these coveralls, he had them tailor made for himself. In addition to serving as simple clothing, he paid top dollar for the coveralls to be made with a mixture of synthetic fibers. Just the coverall alone provided him with a reasonable degree of protection from cuts, stabs, and burns. The rest of his armor would serve to supplement the protection offered by the coverall. He didn't bother with that now, though he did take the time to put on a fresh pair of socks and his boots.

Jack sat at his simple desk, tapping in the commands to bring the holographic displays online. Jane's tiny figure swirled into being on the far corner.

"Ready for those files?"

"Yeah, go ahead and throw those up." He took up his cigarettes, taking a ponderous moment to study the shamrock stamped into the case of his lighter before he lit up.

"Okay Jane, show me what you've got."

As she promised, it wasn't much. She narrated the details on how scavengers had found the drifting remains of a luxury Star Skimmer. The ship had been making a scenic flyby of the Sun and it was in a decaying orbit that they'd recovered the black box. The box had passed hands and eventually ended up back in the control of the company that manufactured the Skimmer: Yutani Corporation. But Jane's magic had revealed some details. The Skimmer had followed all safety protocols from launch to the moment its pilot had locked the ship in a stable orbit. Ninety seconds after the craft was keyed into autopilot it experienced total system shutdown. Star Skimmers came standard with a vocal assistant system, which initiated a warning to all occupants that a critical system failure had occurred and those onboard should begin evacuation procedures. The box reported that four EVA suits were brought online, their relative positioning systems activated. Two minutes after the suits were activated the life-boat was brought online. Exactly one second after the life-boats computer 'woke up' the ships external sensors registered something striking the hull. Less than three seconds after the impact, the Skimmer's entry hatch had its safety protocols remotely overwritten and the hatch opened. The black box reported all four EVA suits were ejected from the craft. The suits drifted for almost three minutes, each in its own direction, until one suddenly changed direction and accelerated until the RPS lost contact.

Jack leaned back in his seat, eyebrows high. He took a deep drag off his smoke and tapped ash into a small ceramic tray on his desk.

"Let me piece this out. Whoever the mark is, they're on some sight seeing tour around the Sun. Their ship gets hit with something, likely an EMP device. The ship registers something hitting the hull and then the hatch blows. All the passengers, now suited up, are blown out from decompression and the mark is snatched from hard vacuum." He exhaled sharply, jetting out smoke.

"I'd agree with your analysis. The other suits continued to function for some time, communicating with the box. The box itself indicates the suits comm systems were used, for just over two hours; the standard life support time for civilian class transports. The ships box went on tracking the suits for another few days, earth time, until they just lost contact."

"Either their power source gave out, or they burned up." He took another deep drag off the cigarette.

Shitty way to go, Jack thought to himself, either choking on your own CO2 or being slowly roasted alive inside your EVA suit as you drift through vacuum, still choking on your own gasses.

"Some of that tracks with what I know of this Massey character. Supposedly a top tier operator, he's the guy they call for jobs that are supposed to be 'impossible'."

Impossible is usually just another way of saying someone has a lack of creativity. Jack mused.

He decided to eat while he poured over the rest of the data Jane had pooled for him. Jack spent a great deal of time aboard his ship and as such took care to keep it stocked with anything he might need. Currently, he had almost a year's worth of MRE's stored away, and while they certainly weren't the best in terms of quality of food; they would sustain him long enough to find something better. Tonight's choice was a blend of sweet-apple chicken sausage, barley, spinach, and sweet potatoes in a tangy garlic sauce. Jack primed the self-heating package and waited, watching as steam began to vent from the meal. Carefully, avoiding the steam, he peeled back the covering, and gazed at his meal.

Is it stew? Surely they, whoever manufactures 'Ready to Eat' meals, didn't intend for all of the ingredients to remain separate? He poked around at the mix, and decidedly speared a piece of sausage. Chewing, he began to read another report.

Halfway through the meal Jane projected herself back onto the desktop. She made a dramatic show of studying his meal, watching pointedly as he chewed a mouthful.

"Ya know." He said around his food, cutting her off before she could begin. "This one actually isn't bad. The sausage, there." He pointed with the fork. "It's sweet apple chicken, gouda cheese, and ground black peppercorns. Like I said, not bad."

"I'll have to remember that specific meal when I reorder. At the rate you currently consume the meals, we'll have to discard the majority of them when they expire. I still don't understand why you insist on stocking each room of the ship with its own supply."

Jack poked around at the last remaining bits of his meal, decided he was finished eating and stood. He crossed the room to the waste dispenser set into the wall near the shower. He opened the angled hatch and tossed his waste into the chute. All of the waste chutes in the rooms onboard the Gladius fed into a central repository. He washed his mouth out with water from the sink and moved back to his desk, lighting another cigarette. He closed down the file he was reading and began to pace.

"Two things Jane."

He dragged deep. He exhaled.

"First. I keep so much food onboard the Gladius for a good reason. Have you heard of the Blue Diamond? No, don't try to look it up on the GalNet. Whatever. The gist of the story, a lot of people got sick. Drugs ran out first, antibiotics and whatnot. While the ship waited, floating in quarantine food ran out too. Not everyone on board was sick, but the Navy was slow to respond, following protocol to the letter. Long story short; people, trained sailors used to being on long hauls, turned to eating one another. If, for whatever reason, I happen to find myself locked inside any area of my ship I know at least I have, among other things, access to all the food I could need to survive up to a year."

He took another deep drag off his cigarette. He studied the butt, wrapped in its silver foil-like material. The dark, almost black, unbleached paper of the body leading up to a glowing ember.

"Second. I noticed something looking into one of those other files. The Swiss bank thing. I want you to see if you can pull any data from the bank regarding that day, find a way in. While you're at it, see if you can access fire, police, med-response team data. I know it'll have to wait until we're out of warp. I'm going to try to sleep. Once we're out of warp, do a local scan. If you're satisfied we're alone, run the proper cooldown protocols for the swyft drive, then plot a course that'll put us near enough to Luna to establish orbit. If I'm not already awake by that point, wake me."