Back in the Penta Federation, Nick Furcas is waiting while the
Patrol's lab performs its test and analysis of the forensics found
on Baxta. Taking a few minutes, the Patrolman steps out for a bite
to eat at a local restaurant on Fost, a Federation world and home to
the Patrol's HQ...

THREE DAYS LATER, FOST SYSTEM, 18:44 HRS, YEAR 683

"Allan Tarswell, Sparak Advisory Foundation," said the man shaking
Nick Furcas's hand. Furcas's look was non-comittal, prompting the
stranger to add, "I'd like to talk to you about Professor Bingham."

They remained in the waiting area a few minutes before the pair
were seated.

"So, uh, Allan, what can you tell me?" asked Furcas.

Tarswell pulled up his attache case, "Officially, nothing."

Furcas laughed. There was a few awkward moments of silence.

"But, off-the-record perhaps a few things. Are you familiar with
Professor Bingham's research?"

"No. Not really," explained Furcas, "Only what my briefing officer
prepared. The Patrol is concerned with locating the Professor and
his kidnappers, not his official capacity with your, uh, firm."

"Yes, we're a private organization, a 'think tank' in the
colloquial. Professor Bingham joined us two years ago, he'd come
from BTR Industries."

Furcas nodded, BTR was a powerful multistellar within the
Federation. The Patrolman was beginning to get a sense of where this
was going. BTR had powerful enemies within the industry.

"Again this is all unofficial, but my firm believes Professor
Bingham's kidnapping was engineered at the request of another firm,
strictly for competitive reasons."

"AutoBot?" asked Furcas.

Tarswell smiled, as though the Patrolman's reply were a bad guess.
"I see you're up on industry rumors."

"Not really," said Furcas. "So Allan, what is it that you want?"

Another brief silence. The civilian lowered his voice:
"Sparak would like permission to examine the energy weapon you
recovered off the dead man at the kidnap site," pausing before
adding, "As well as anything else on the body."

Furcas's brows rose. "Uh, I'm afraid that's impossible. My boss
wouldn't allow it. Policy." He gave Tarswell a look that said he
should know better.

"Who's your superior?" asked Tarswell. Furcas told him. Tarswell
produced a cellphone and handed it over to Furcas. "Humor me. Call
him."


* * * * *


Furcas was amazed, not only had his commander allowed Allan Tarswell
to inspect the items recovered from the dead kidnapper, but was
allowing him to take them back to his company HQ for further
analysis.

"So Allan," asked Furcas, "Are they yours or not?"

Tarswell didn't want to launch into an explanation of
nanoengineering and how the equipment was marked by the manufacturer
at the molecular level, so he simply told Furcas: "I don't know.
That's why I'm taking them back." They'd have to be checked by his
firm's scanning electronic microscope before confirmation could be
given.

The turn of events was infuriating and the only thing that calmed
Furcas was that Tarswell would have to travel via Patrol Courier,
and of course Furcas was going with him.

"Hey Nick," his wrist comm buzzed, it was Jenkins. "There's
something you'll want to see over at communications."

"Can't, got to see to this thing with Sparak," Furcas said wearily.

"Trust me, buddy," said the voice. "Get over here now."

Furcas asked Tarswell to wait and he took the elevator up to the
fourth floor, where Jenkins was waiting.

"There was a bank robbery on Shyme," said Jenkins, "The data came in
with all the crime reports via FTL-comm like usual."

"So?" said Furcas as the pair entered the communications center.
They walked over to the viewing booth Jenkins had saved for them.
Jenkins played the security video which had been forwarded with the
daily information.

"That dead guy you found on Baxta," Jenkins smiled, "We ran his face
through the photobase and found nothing. But all the hot leads get
checked with all the new stuff coming in," Jenkins was telling
Furcas what he already knew. "He robbed a bank on Shyme three days
ago."

Jenkins paused the display, freezing it on the face the photobase
had marked as a match. There was Marvin Felum, standing next to the
bank's security guard.


* * * * *


Running from the Patrol and the Independent Defense Forces of the
Trade Worlds, Loptr and Garm head the Farbauti towards a nasty
region of space known as the Maelstrom (a stellar phonemenom
regarded as a Class IV Navigation Hazard in the CCW database). The
region is cloaked heavily in nebula gasses and its shape is
constantly moving due to surges in interstellar ley line activity
and gravitational forces. Sensors and navigation are usually
severely hampered, however there are those with the experience to
circumnavigate the area. Inside this region most planets were
uninhabitable, except for Sandstone, a remote, desert world. The
perfect place for these guys to hide...not to mention others...

Awn -- is a member of the Kronos League. The system's "naval" base
is actually a mix of League naval ships and corsairs of the
Brotherhood of the Fist. Tri-Galactic Military Services maintains a
recruiting office here as well as having a company-sized contingent
of troops that serve on "naval" ships.


EIGHT DAYS LATER, SANDSTONE SYSTEM, 13:15 HRS, YEAR 683

"Welcome to Sandstone," said Loptr as he and Norbert Emerson
levitated down the Farbauti's gravity tube to the planet's surface.
Loptr hadn't been kidding, the place was far off the trade lanes and
could be classified as a rudimentary settlement at best. "A couple
of Kronos trading firms use the place as a staging area for their
operations," Loptr meant the infamous Kronos League. He didn't
mention that Awnian Freebooters frequented the system too.

There wasn't a starport, not like Emerson was used to in the
Federation and most Trade Worlds. No, Sandstone was the frontier,
its port little more that a flat dirt field, with a couple of
earthen buildings nearby.

Loptr spoke into his wrist comm telling Garm to remain inside with
Bingham. Moments later, Marvin Felum came down the tube and joined
them.

"You two armed?" asked Loptr.

Emerson patted his belt, "Yeah, why?"

"Ah, it's just that Garm got into it with a pair of Awnian traders
last time we were here," As the trio walked away from the Farbauti,
Loptr scouted the other starships in port. "That was about six
months ago, I'm sure its all forgotten now," he pointed ahead to one
of the small earthen buildings. "This place here is the port bar."
Just to be safe, he double-checked the power setting on his particle
blaster.


* * * * *


"Whose bucket of bolts is it that just landed?" asked the
Tri-Galactic trooper.

Normally Loptr wouldn't have thought twice about referring to his
beloved Farbauti in such a manner, at least to himself, but the idea
that someone else treated her with such disrespect rubbed him the
wrong way.

"That'd be me," he said raising his hand before sliding back in the
booth and easing the blaster pistol Emerson had given him out
slightly.

"One hundred credits," the soldier said.

The bar's door opened and four more combat armored troopers entered,
pausing just inside the door. Each carried a laser rifle

"For what?" said Loptr.

"Docking fees," said the trooper.

Loptr looked at the door again. Five against three. He dug into his
pocket, "Yeah, why not. Hey can you get someone to check my landing
struts, I think I snapped..."

The trooper snatched up the money, "Stow it," he said walking off.

"I see what you mean about this place," said Emerson, after the
squad of troopers had left.

"Yeah, but it'll grow on you," said Loptr. "Land's cheap and you
won't be bothered, as long as you know whose way to stay out of. The
best thing is here the Federation doesn't exist."

"Very well," said Emerson. "But we'll have to stay aboard your ship
until I can arrange accomodations that are atmospherically
regulated. My computer equipment will find the harsh environment
unsuitable. At this point if it's damaged, it will be beyond
repair."

"Yeah, alright," said Loptr, "But as soon as the Free Traders show
up Garm and I will probably be making a run or two to the Trades."

Emerson mulled the situation over, "I may have a temporary solution
if I can find some pre-fab structures," he said. "But I'm going to
require someone to help me, uh, oversee the professor," said
Emerson.

Loptr nodded to Felum, "Keep Marvin for now. Garm and I will head to
Hidegar and see about gettin' a few more guys."


* * * * *


Here we find Nick Furcas on Shyme, having travelled to the Trade
World to investigate the details of the bank robbery in person. As
demonstrated by the photo comparison earlier, the Trades share
information on criminal activities with the Federation mainly due to
piracy.


"Yeah, they were real smooth too," said the Head of Security of the
Grove National Bank on Shyme.

He and Furcas were re-watching the video of the bank robbery in the
security office. He'd watched the whole thing back at his HQ but had
decided to get to Shyme to see things for himself. He'd let Jenkins
go back with Tarswell.

"They'd hit us first with a neutralizer bug, in the computer system.
It gave them complete control of the bank, and us. The only thing we
had was the radio. We called the authorities but by the time they
arrived the crooks were gone."

Furcas studied the video. Aside from Felum the other man was masked
by a helmet. As the unidentified leader walked forward, Furcas saw
the now familiar particle blaster he held, visually identical to the
one Tarswell's firm was analyzing. He watched him blast open the
bulletproof barrier, collect the money and disappear with Felum into
the smoke.

The Patrolman and the security man walked through the entire
robbery, from outside the bank to the elevator ride to the roof.
According to the computer logs that's where it had been taken,
however no witness saw them on any other level, nor was there any
evidence of them being on any other level.

The pair got off on the top floor. It was a tiny landing, no bigger
than ten square feet. A single door led to the open roof and they
went outside.

"How'd they get off the roof," asked Furcas, almost yelling in the
strong wind, "Helicopter?"

"Don't know," yelled the bank guard. "That's the strange part of
it."

"How so?" asked Furcas.

"Well, we had a view of everything they did, until they got into the
elevator. That's the last we saw of them." The chief nodded towards
the high-rises behind and to the side of the bank, the police went
door to door in each of them. They're office buildings and were full
during the robbery. Granted people don't usually stare out the
windows at work, but nobody saw them on the roof. No helicopter, no
climbing gear. Nobody saw anything."

This irked Furcas all the way down to the foyer. The elevator chimed
as the elevator reached the floor, before the doors opened. Furcas
thought for a moment, holding the door open with his hand, his body
half in and half out. A breeze rushed up to his face from the floor.

"Does this building have a basement?" he asked the security man.

"No. No basement. This floor is it."

"There's a breeze coming from somewhere then," Furcas squatted and
the security man did likewise. A wave of air rushed up to their
hands.

"Come on," Furcas walked him back to the security office. They
replayed the end of the video. The smoke prevented them seeing the
elevator doors, but not from hearing the chime. As the elevator
reached the floor, it chimed it's arrival. They replayed the video
over and over, and each time the elevator started up before the
sound of the doors closing could be heard.

They fetched the building's engineer and had him keep the elevator
doors open while they sent the car up. Furcas looked at the floor of
the shaft and smiled.

"I'll be damned," said the security man. The building mechanic
shrugged.

The three men stared at a man-sized hole, neatly cut into the floor
of the shaft.

"Well," said Furcas, "Now we know how they got away."


* * * * *

Back on Sandstone, Emerson has revived his kidnap victim from the
cryogenic sleep tube aboard the Farbauti, and is finishing up
outlining his request for the professor's aid in researching the
complex Nanopak...


"You've tempted me sorely," said Professor Bingham after listening
to Norbert Emerson and viewing the files he'd stolen from BTR. "This
is cutting edge technology, very advanced, it represents the
culmination of the type of work I got into this field for."

Norbert smiled, "Exactly why I need you professor. I'm aware of your
reputation and commitment to science."

"And also the reason I must decline to help you," said Bingham
calmly. "You obviously obtained this by dubious means. I'm not a
criminal, nor would I work for one."

The smile vanished from Norbert's face and he glanced at Felum who
was standing in the doorway, and nodded. Ten seconds later Bingham
was reeling from the effects of Marvin's Bio-Manipulation.

Emerson retreived a medkit Loptr had provided him. Inside was a vial
of Crediline, a drug that could control a subject if administered
properly.

"I'm sorry professor," said Emerson, "But you've no choice in this
matter."


* * * * *


Back aboard Furcas' Patrol ship at the starport at Shyme...

"Coincidence?" asked Mark Jenkins.

"Not likely," Furcas's comm-specialist had done a search on the port
entries from Biddus, the system where Tarswell's people had their
problems, and Shyme the site of the bank robbery. It brought back a
match. One ship was present in both systems at the corresponding
times: the Farbauti, registered to Kriegen Enterprises, a small
trading firm operating from the Hidegar system in the Trades.

According to the spaceport logs requested via interstellar comm,
the ship wasn't there.

"What's plan?" asked Jenkins.

Furcas had his pilot file a flight plan for Hidegar. With any luck,
they'd find the Farbauti and her crew in port...eventually.

to be continued...