We find ourselves viewing a communique between the Head of the
Ownership Council of Red Branch Shipping and his Chief of Security,
via interstellar comm. Red Branch is a large shipping company, which
over the years, has had its share of run-ins with terrorists,
extortionists, pirates, even its own employees...
Rekkar -- a former Red Branch Knight dismissed in disgrace after the
company uncovered a corruption racket. Nothing could be proven but
he was dismissed anyway. He's vowed vengeance on Kular and Red
Branch Shipping, but is waiting for the right time to move.
Zwan -- a subjugated Pume from Aliens Unlimited. The tigerlike
feline is an accomplice of Rekkar's and an accomplished and ruthless
Headhunter.
SIX HOURS LATER, HIDEGAR TRADE WORLDS
"Do you think it was Rekkar?" asked Alfred "King" Conner, CEO of Red
Branch Shipping.
Kular, the commander of the trading company's security unit shook
his head. "No. According to the port police the responsible party
was the crew of another small starship, a pair known as Garm and
Loptr."
"That's not what I meant," Conner said irratibly, "Do you think it
was engineered by Rekkar?"
"I supposed it's possible," replied Kular, "Six men dead. My take on
Rekkar was that if this was his doing we would know it." Kular
referred to a former member of their organization, who'd gone
renegade and vowed revenge.
"And these two you mentioned, what about them?"
"The port authority never located them," Kular cleared his throat.
"I, uh did find that the Federation Patrol is looking for them as
well."
This caught Conner's ear.
"Apparently for a string of thefts and a pair of murders, before the
incident on Hidegar."
Conner looked away briefly, "What types of thefts? Ship hijackings?"
His business occaisionally suffered losses at the hands of pirates
and hijackers.
"No sir, according to sources it was industrial espionage at one of
the Federation's hi-tech firms, we're still trying to localize which
one. The other was a bank robbery in the Trades, on the Shyme
system. No one killed in that one, though they got away with almost
3 million credits."
"Which tech firm?" asked Conner.
"We don't know yet," Kular's nostrils flared. "Give us another week
and my team will have matched all the murders to all the thefts on
the frontier."
"And this all started with one guy on a catwalk watching one of my
ships unload," the frustration shown in Conner's voice.
"The commanding officer felt the man was scouting the ship, for a
possible hijacking at a later date. He ordered the squad leader to
remove the threat," explained Kular. "He acted according to policy.
It seems this pair was more than he bargained for."
Conner shook his head, "So what do you plan to do?" He had to brief
the Ownership Council later that day.
"I agree that this might have something to do with Rekkar,"
explained Kular, "No matter how remote. I'm assembling a team and
plan to look into it. Personally."
* * * * *
A WEEK LATER ON SANDSTONE
Emerson laughed deeply as Loptr related Garm's version of what
happened on the catwalk. Tossing the troop commander's men on him
one by one, held a certain ironic humor for the engineer.
"So we climbed out on the roof and ran away. We commandeered a work
truck and moved to the north landing zone, found a ship and here we
are."
"How did you get the ship's pilot to come here?" asked Marvin Felum.
Loptr wasn't exactly rolling in money and chartering a starship was
costly.
Loptr looked at Garm who bared his fangs evilly. "We appropriated
it, after all the Patrol did the same to mine."
"So you never got the extra men?" Emerson's voice was suddenly
serious.
"Not directly," said Loptr. "After we reached orbit I sent
a message to the Guild, they'll send a half-dozen guys, here."
Emerson's face went sour, "And what if these men don't work out."
Loptr paused to light a cigar, "You send 'em back."
"No," Emerson crooked his finger twice, "YOU'LL send them back. YOU
were supposed to find us six men, interview them personally and
bring them here. Not get into a skirmish at the starport and kill
six men."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Loptr closed his eyes and nodded, informing
Emerson he was right. "When they show I'll take care of them."
* * * * *
THE NEXT DAY, SANDSTONE
"Your requirements are quite, exotic," blue-skinned Miles Genoc, the
Uteni armanent dealer aboard the HEXEN pulled out his datapad and
looked it over.
"I know what my requirements are," explained Norbert Emerson, "I
need to know if they're available."
"Oh, yes, no problem," said Genoc, "It's just that on this system I
rarely get such, uh, sophisticated requests. Aside from starship
weaponry, most of the locals go for the straight-forward approach.
Anyway, I do have a contact that can manufacture these battlesuits
you've designed."
"How much?"
"Providing you pick up the Accordian railgun and 90,000 rounds of
ammunition, I can place the order with my contact for an additional
twenty-percent over their list price," Genoc kept a close watch on
Emerson, who didn't even flinch at the price. "The real expense are
these neural induction interfaces. Your specifications are very
detailed. It'll take some time, between manufacturing and
transport."
This didn't seem to bother Emerson.
"Yes, well the shoulder-mounted, particle-blaster slaved to the
helmet and the jamming gear is standard stuff, though the
electrified chest plate is a bit unusual," Genoc put down his drink.
"Tell me, what are you planning to mount the Accordian on?"
"A halftrack," said Felum. Emerson had picked one up from a local
mercenary while Lopter was on Hidegar.
"All right," said Genoc. "You can take the Accordian and ammo now.
For the suits I'll need 75%, up-front. I expect a six week
turn-around on them."
* * * * *
The scene shifts momentarily to the mercenary starship FOUR
KINGS owned by Rekkar and Zwan...
INTERSTELLAR SPACE NEAR THE BIIT SYSTEM, TRADE WORLDS
Rekkar laughed deeply when he read the report of the incident
involving Red Branch Shipping.
"Zwan, take a look at this!"
A tall, powerful, tiger-like beast left the bridge and came aft,
into the common room of the small starship. He picked up the
data-flex and read.
"Your old friends," Zwan dropped the data-flex and looked at his
partner, sitting with his feet up, smile on his face. Rekkar rarely
smiled. "Someone you know?"
"No, just fate," the smile faded from his face. "Wish I'd been there
though."
"It said nothing of Kular," Zwan crossed his arms.
"Hidegar's a small base, Kular wouldn't be there. He's on the bulk
ships," Rekkar scooped up the data-flex, "This was a public hangar."
A beeping emanated from the cockpit.
"We're coming up on Biit," Zwan informed him.
"I hope your information is right," yelled Rekkar, as Zwan
disappeared into the bridge.
Rekkar dropped the data-flex, and adjusted his headband.
"The information is fine," yelled Zwan from the bridge. "Just fine."
* * * * *
"This is a Patrol matter," Furcas explained to Kular.
"You've no jurisdiction in the Trades," countered the leader of the
Red Branch Knights. "They've killed six of my men. Tell me where
they are and we'll handle it."
"I may not have jurisdiction but these men are wanted in conjunction
with other crimes, THAT OCCURED WITHIN MY JURISDICTION!"
Kular went silent.
"I'M NOT ABOUT TO HAND THEM OVER TO YOU."
"How about help then? You're far from home. What do you have, six or
seven guys?" Kular pressed his advantage. "I can have 50 men here in
three days."
"I don't care if you've can get a hundred men," Furcas's voice rose
again. "I'll handle this with my detail. NOW GET OUT."
Kular pressed his fingers together under the table, breaking a tiny,
plastic ampule, from which spewed forth a tiny cloud of gnats. He
then moved slapping his hand on the tabletop in frustration. After
exchanging glares with Furcas, he grabbed his helmet and stalked out
of the Patrolship.
Furcas followed him to the patrol ship's hatchway, watched him climb
into a waiting groundcar and drive off.
The groundcar continued down the access road for a quarter mile,
before pulling over next to a set of rusty shacks. Kular's adjutant
got out, looked around to make sure no one could see him, then
affixed what looked like a small hornet's nest under the eaves.
He returned to the groundcar, which drove away.
* * * * *
Back on Sandstone, where under the blistering sun, Marvin Felum and
Norbert Emerson are working on the halftrack, arming it in case
their operation is muscled by the bullies in Tri-galactic Services,
or anyone else...
"Give me the control relays," Norbert Emerson held out his hand.
Marvin Felum picked up six wires, and stretched them out, then
slapped them into Emerson's palm.
Emerson worked each wire up through the pintel mount's base and
through the side opening. "Now the weapon."
Felum, using an exoskeleton, hefted the Accordian and eased it onto
the mount.
"Fasten it," said Emerson. While Felum secured the mounting pins,
Emerson connected the relays to the railgun's control box.
Emerson removed a small hand radio from his overalls. He activated
the unit and the T-shaped hardpoint rotated 360 degrees.
"Rotation works," said Felum.
Emerson hit a second key and the weapon's barrels elevated. He hit
another key and it rotated down. Then a final sequence of keystrokes
caused the main support to fold down, laying the weapon flat on the
halftrack's bed. There was just enough room for the weapon's huge
ammo hopper.
"Very sweet," said Felum. "It'll be nice havin' this beauty with all
them Tri-galactic pricks around." He patted the Accordian. "You'll
even the odds for us baby."
"Never mind that," said Emerson. "We still have to weld the cover
plate and rig the casing mount and motors. This thing will be
useless if they can see it." If someone could look in the back and
see the weapon, word might get around.
Felum nodded and jumped off the vehicle. He wandered over to the
large metallic plate that lay against the wall to the building they
were behind. He carefully marked it with chalk, donned his welding
goggles, lit the laser torch and began burning a hole along the
markings.
Emerson wiped the sweat from his face. Then went inside the small
compound that served as their quarters. He went around to the front
of the lot, where a trench had been dug very precisely. The trench
angled down into a short tunnel with led to a door. He opened the
door and went inside. It was much cooler down here, even cooler in
the pre-fab, air conditioned, underground shelter Norbert Emerson
had built.
He stopped inside the first room on his right and nodded to
Professor Bingham, who was busy completing his analysis on the
computer terminal installed in his room.
* * * * *
HIDEGAR
"Their next move is to Sandstone," said Kular's adjutant, Willoughby
as Kular entered their makeshift office on Hidegar.
The uniformed soldier was staring into a small computer, next to
which sat the plastic hornet's nest. The small cloud of gnats were
microbots with comm and recording units, built into their
microscopic frames.
"Furcas's team has gone through the Farbauti's computer system and
viewed her travel logs," explained Willoughby. "The last system
before Hidegar was Sandstone." The adjutant displayed his library
entry for the desert planet, the information appearing on the wall
near Kular.
"Good place to hide," commented the leader of the Red Branch
Knights. "What about Furcas's men?" he tapped the wall with his
hand. "Won't we run into them there?"
"No sir," Willoughby ran his fingers over the computer and the
wall-display flashed, into a cyberscribed transcription of the
microbot's eavesdropping. The text shifted suddenly as Willoughby
did a search. "They're waiting on the local police here to see if
they find this Loptr, sir." Again the text display shifted,
"Furcas's also sent a message to the Patrol outpost on New Vonce,
asking for a cover ship for the trip to Sandstone. He's worried his
Patrolship will stick out."
It was going to take Furcas some time to put together an excursion
to the remote system.
Kular nodded, "Put together two squads for the trip to Sandstone.
We'll take the fleet courier. And keep a squad here on Furcas just
in case the locals find Loptr."
to be continued...
Ownership Council of Red Branch Shipping and his Chief of Security,
via interstellar comm. Red Branch is a large shipping company, which
over the years, has had its share of run-ins with terrorists,
extortionists, pirates, even its own employees...
Rekkar -- a former Red Branch Knight dismissed in disgrace after the
company uncovered a corruption racket. Nothing could be proven but
he was dismissed anyway. He's vowed vengeance on Kular and Red
Branch Shipping, but is waiting for the right time to move.
Zwan -- a subjugated Pume from Aliens Unlimited. The tigerlike
feline is an accomplice of Rekkar's and an accomplished and ruthless
Headhunter.
SIX HOURS LATER, HIDEGAR TRADE WORLDS
"Do you think it was Rekkar?" asked Alfred "King" Conner, CEO of Red
Branch Shipping.
Kular, the commander of the trading company's security unit shook
his head. "No. According to the port police the responsible party
was the crew of another small starship, a pair known as Garm and
Loptr."
"That's not what I meant," Conner said irratibly, "Do you think it
was engineered by Rekkar?"
"I supposed it's possible," replied Kular, "Six men dead. My take on
Rekkar was that if this was his doing we would know it." Kular
referred to a former member of their organization, who'd gone
renegade and vowed revenge.
"And these two you mentioned, what about them?"
"The port authority never located them," Kular cleared his throat.
"I, uh did find that the Federation Patrol is looking for them as
well."
This caught Conner's ear.
"Apparently for a string of thefts and a pair of murders, before the
incident on Hidegar."
Conner looked away briefly, "What types of thefts? Ship hijackings?"
His business occaisionally suffered losses at the hands of pirates
and hijackers.
"No sir, according to sources it was industrial espionage at one of
the Federation's hi-tech firms, we're still trying to localize which
one. The other was a bank robbery in the Trades, on the Shyme
system. No one killed in that one, though they got away with almost
3 million credits."
"Which tech firm?" asked Conner.
"We don't know yet," Kular's nostrils flared. "Give us another week
and my team will have matched all the murders to all the thefts on
the frontier."
"And this all started with one guy on a catwalk watching one of my
ships unload," the frustration shown in Conner's voice.
"The commanding officer felt the man was scouting the ship, for a
possible hijacking at a later date. He ordered the squad leader to
remove the threat," explained Kular. "He acted according to policy.
It seems this pair was more than he bargained for."
Conner shook his head, "So what do you plan to do?" He had to brief
the Ownership Council later that day.
"I agree that this might have something to do with Rekkar,"
explained Kular, "No matter how remote. I'm assembling a team and
plan to look into it. Personally."
* * * * *
A WEEK LATER ON SANDSTONE
Emerson laughed deeply as Loptr related Garm's version of what
happened on the catwalk. Tossing the troop commander's men on him
one by one, held a certain ironic humor for the engineer.
"So we climbed out on the roof and ran away. We commandeered a work
truck and moved to the north landing zone, found a ship and here we
are."
"How did you get the ship's pilot to come here?" asked Marvin Felum.
Loptr wasn't exactly rolling in money and chartering a starship was
costly.
Loptr looked at Garm who bared his fangs evilly. "We appropriated
it, after all the Patrol did the same to mine."
"So you never got the extra men?" Emerson's voice was suddenly
serious.
"Not directly," said Loptr. "After we reached orbit I sent
a message to the Guild, they'll send a half-dozen guys, here."
Emerson's face went sour, "And what if these men don't work out."
Loptr paused to light a cigar, "You send 'em back."
"No," Emerson crooked his finger twice, "YOU'LL send them back. YOU
were supposed to find us six men, interview them personally and
bring them here. Not get into a skirmish at the starport and kill
six men."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Loptr closed his eyes and nodded, informing
Emerson he was right. "When they show I'll take care of them."
* * * * *
THE NEXT DAY, SANDSTONE
"Your requirements are quite, exotic," blue-skinned Miles Genoc, the
Uteni armanent dealer aboard the HEXEN pulled out his datapad and
looked it over.
"I know what my requirements are," explained Norbert Emerson, "I
need to know if they're available."
"Oh, yes, no problem," said Genoc, "It's just that on this system I
rarely get such, uh, sophisticated requests. Aside from starship
weaponry, most of the locals go for the straight-forward approach.
Anyway, I do have a contact that can manufacture these battlesuits
you've designed."
"How much?"
"Providing you pick up the Accordian railgun and 90,000 rounds of
ammunition, I can place the order with my contact for an additional
twenty-percent over their list price," Genoc kept a close watch on
Emerson, who didn't even flinch at the price. "The real expense are
these neural induction interfaces. Your specifications are very
detailed. It'll take some time, between manufacturing and
transport."
This didn't seem to bother Emerson.
"Yes, well the shoulder-mounted, particle-blaster slaved to the
helmet and the jamming gear is standard stuff, though the
electrified chest plate is a bit unusual," Genoc put down his drink.
"Tell me, what are you planning to mount the Accordian on?"
"A halftrack," said Felum. Emerson had picked one up from a local
mercenary while Lopter was on Hidegar.
"All right," said Genoc. "You can take the Accordian and ammo now.
For the suits I'll need 75%, up-front. I expect a six week
turn-around on them."
* * * * *
The scene shifts momentarily to the mercenary starship FOUR
KINGS owned by Rekkar and Zwan...
INTERSTELLAR SPACE NEAR THE BIIT SYSTEM, TRADE WORLDS
Rekkar laughed deeply when he read the report of the incident
involving Red Branch Shipping.
"Zwan, take a look at this!"
A tall, powerful, tiger-like beast left the bridge and came aft,
into the common room of the small starship. He picked up the
data-flex and read.
"Your old friends," Zwan dropped the data-flex and looked at his
partner, sitting with his feet up, smile on his face. Rekkar rarely
smiled. "Someone you know?"
"No, just fate," the smile faded from his face. "Wish I'd been there
though."
"It said nothing of Kular," Zwan crossed his arms.
"Hidegar's a small base, Kular wouldn't be there. He's on the bulk
ships," Rekkar scooped up the data-flex, "This was a public hangar."
A beeping emanated from the cockpit.
"We're coming up on Biit," Zwan informed him.
"I hope your information is right," yelled Rekkar, as Zwan
disappeared into the bridge.
Rekkar dropped the data-flex, and adjusted his headband.
"The information is fine," yelled Zwan from the bridge. "Just fine."
* * * * *
"This is a Patrol matter," Furcas explained to Kular.
"You've no jurisdiction in the Trades," countered the leader of the
Red Branch Knights. "They've killed six of my men. Tell me where
they are and we'll handle it."
"I may not have jurisdiction but these men are wanted in conjunction
with other crimes, THAT OCCURED WITHIN MY JURISDICTION!"
Kular went silent.
"I'M NOT ABOUT TO HAND THEM OVER TO YOU."
"How about help then? You're far from home. What do you have, six or
seven guys?" Kular pressed his advantage. "I can have 50 men here in
three days."
"I don't care if you've can get a hundred men," Furcas's voice rose
again. "I'll handle this with my detail. NOW GET OUT."
Kular pressed his fingers together under the table, breaking a tiny,
plastic ampule, from which spewed forth a tiny cloud of gnats. He
then moved slapping his hand on the tabletop in frustration. After
exchanging glares with Furcas, he grabbed his helmet and stalked out
of the Patrolship.
Furcas followed him to the patrol ship's hatchway, watched him climb
into a waiting groundcar and drive off.
The groundcar continued down the access road for a quarter mile,
before pulling over next to a set of rusty shacks. Kular's adjutant
got out, looked around to make sure no one could see him, then
affixed what looked like a small hornet's nest under the eaves.
He returned to the groundcar, which drove away.
* * * * *
Back on Sandstone, where under the blistering sun, Marvin Felum and
Norbert Emerson are working on the halftrack, arming it in case
their operation is muscled by the bullies in Tri-galactic Services,
or anyone else...
"Give me the control relays," Norbert Emerson held out his hand.
Marvin Felum picked up six wires, and stretched them out, then
slapped them into Emerson's palm.
Emerson worked each wire up through the pintel mount's base and
through the side opening. "Now the weapon."
Felum, using an exoskeleton, hefted the Accordian and eased it onto
the mount.
"Fasten it," said Emerson. While Felum secured the mounting pins,
Emerson connected the relays to the railgun's control box.
Emerson removed a small hand radio from his overalls. He activated
the unit and the T-shaped hardpoint rotated 360 degrees.
"Rotation works," said Felum.
Emerson hit a second key and the weapon's barrels elevated. He hit
another key and it rotated down. Then a final sequence of keystrokes
caused the main support to fold down, laying the weapon flat on the
halftrack's bed. There was just enough room for the weapon's huge
ammo hopper.
"Very sweet," said Felum. "It'll be nice havin' this beauty with all
them Tri-galactic pricks around." He patted the Accordian. "You'll
even the odds for us baby."
"Never mind that," said Emerson. "We still have to weld the cover
plate and rig the casing mount and motors. This thing will be
useless if they can see it." If someone could look in the back and
see the weapon, word might get around.
Felum nodded and jumped off the vehicle. He wandered over to the
large metallic plate that lay against the wall to the building they
were behind. He carefully marked it with chalk, donned his welding
goggles, lit the laser torch and began burning a hole along the
markings.
Emerson wiped the sweat from his face. Then went inside the small
compound that served as their quarters. He went around to the front
of the lot, where a trench had been dug very precisely. The trench
angled down into a short tunnel with led to a door. He opened the
door and went inside. It was much cooler down here, even cooler in
the pre-fab, air conditioned, underground shelter Norbert Emerson
had built.
He stopped inside the first room on his right and nodded to
Professor Bingham, who was busy completing his analysis on the
computer terminal installed in his room.
* * * * *
HIDEGAR
"Their next move is to Sandstone," said Kular's adjutant, Willoughby
as Kular entered their makeshift office on Hidegar.
The uniformed soldier was staring into a small computer, next to
which sat the plastic hornet's nest. The small cloud of gnats were
microbots with comm and recording units, built into their
microscopic frames.
"Furcas's team has gone through the Farbauti's computer system and
viewed her travel logs," explained Willoughby. "The last system
before Hidegar was Sandstone." The adjutant displayed his library
entry for the desert planet, the information appearing on the wall
near Kular.
"Good place to hide," commented the leader of the Red Branch
Knights. "What about Furcas's men?" he tapped the wall with his
hand. "Won't we run into them there?"
"No sir," Willoughby ran his fingers over the computer and the
wall-display flashed, into a cyberscribed transcription of the
microbot's eavesdropping. The text shifted suddenly as Willoughby
did a search. "They're waiting on the local police here to see if
they find this Loptr, sir." Again the text display shifted,
"Furcas's also sent a message to the Patrol outpost on New Vonce,
asking for a cover ship for the trip to Sandstone. He's worried his
Patrolship will stick out."
It was going to take Furcas some time to put together an excursion
to the remote system.
Kular nodded, "Put together two squads for the trip to Sandstone.
We'll take the fleet courier. And keep a squad here on Furcas just
in case the locals find Loptr."
to be continued...
