Chapter Twelve

Unorthodox Velocities

Beta Colony stank. Upon exiting the train and making their way out into the colony proper, that had been the first thing Vixy noticed. It hadn't taken long to determine the cause either. Strewn across the streets and piled up in front of doors and in dumpsters hidden in deep, dark alleyways, were the collected waste products produced by any civilized society. Rotting food, tattered clothing no longer worth repairing, broken electronics. Everything that a society shipped to a waste disposal site, to either be disposed of or recycled into something new, was sitting on the streets of Beta Colony, lending the place a rotting stink to go along with its otherwise decrepit visuals.

It was dark, too. Street lights flickered where they worked at all, and windows showed only the dim outlines of yellow light, the shutters, blinds, and other coverings pulled fast. Many of the windows had metal bars over them too, a response to the thieving and crime common in places where society had begun to collapse. Of course, those were the windows that weren't already broken, or so covered in grime that they no longer qualified as transparent. Looking around at the forbidding surfaces of the concrete and sheet metal buildings, Vixy tightened her grasp on the grip of her EP-37, feeling a bit safer in the knowledge that she was armed and trained to defend herself.

There weren't many people out and about at night around here, though Vixy spotted a few street walkers. She also noticed that they seemed to have eyes for James. She watched in fascination as he ignored them, not even sparing them a second glance. His first glance, she also noted, seemed entirely devoted to determining if they were armed or otherwise dangerous. I've never seen him on a mission like this. It's...impressive.

The walk through the residential district led them to the warehousing areas, and finally to a series of abandoned hangar bays. This area looked even more rundown than the residential areas, but it did have one thing going for it: it didn't have a lot of uncollected garbage. It smelled more like the faint remnants of reactor fuel cells and chemical lubricants. Though, the presence of either of those scents in detectable strengths tipped Vixy off to the fact that this area wasn't nearly as abandoned as it looked.

James stopped at the end of the sidewalk they were on and motioned for them to do the same. He turned around and pointed to the scanner he was holding, keeping it out of sight of anyone passing by. Vixy had noted several people on the streets around here, all dressed like ruffians, and all of them openly carrying weapons. No one had bothered them, and Vixy suspected that in a black market haven like this, people didn't talk to you unless you talked to them. No one wanted to draw attention to themselves, and pointing out a stranger would just get you involved in someone else's business. "See the hangar one block down?" James asked. Vixy peered over his shoulder and then nodded with the rest of the team. "Our boy is in there."

"Alright, so we do go in and get him?" Vixy asked.

Peppy snorted. "And do what? Get shot full of plasma bolts?"

"Someone's snarky," Vixy muttered, shooting a glare at Peppy. Peppy frowned and looked apologetic. He's on edge. And probably not totally comfortable with me being here. This is my first time doing anything like this.

"First I want to get a good look at the place," James told them, glancing at Peppy with an admonishing look.

"How?" Archer asked. "I don't think they'll let us just walk around the place."

"Do you think you could tune the scanner to pick out the lifesigns in that building? Number of people, that sort of thing?" James asked Archer.

"Sure. Simple enough. But like I said, I don't think they'll let us go up to the place and do it."

"I mean from about this distance?" James clarified.

"Oh." Archer looked considerate for a moment. "I think so. It might take me a moment, but I should be able to."

Vixy had seen the kind of scanners they were using. They weren't fancy. Federation Intelligence had been willing enough to provide them with transport and a cover story, but loaning out agency equipment to freelancers with no real established track record had been farther than they were willing to go. As such, they were stuck with their own somewhat underpowered equipment. The EP-37's would be just fine, but their scanners and such were barely above civilian grade.

"Good." James looked around, then waved his scanner along the wall of the building they were standing next to. He smiled. "No one's home." Then he looked up. "That roof. Think it'd make a good vantage point?"

"Yeah. We'll have clear vision of the hangar," Vixy said, looking upwards. "How are we gonna get up there though?"

"There's a fire escape," Peppy replied, pointing.

James smiled. "Perfect. Let's just..."

He didn't finish his sentence. Instead he was cut off by the sound of alarms blaring. Vixy plastered her ears back against her skull and said over the noise, "What the hell is that?"

No one answered. They were too concerned with a new series of noises overpowering the alarms. One was the sound of blaster fire. It was coming from all around them, and Vixy yipped as a bolt of superheated plasma pinged against the wall next to her, warming the fur on her face. "Down!" Before she knew what was happening Peppy had pushed her to the ground and was firing his EP-37 in the direction of the bolt that had nearly taken her head off.

"Get off me!" Vixy grunted. Peppy shifted, and Vixy scrambled out from underneath him, pulling her own pistol out and running, bent over, to the cover of a nearby storage container. She slid behind it, plasma bolts pinging against its metal surface. James came to a stop beside her, taking cover behind the same container. "Who are these guys? And what the hell is that alarm?"

James peeked out over the container and squeezed off a shot. Vixy noticed from the slightly higher and more electrified pitch that he was using the stun setting. "Corporate security, judging by the uniforms. As for the alarm? I think we just stumbled our way into a crackdown."

"A crackdown? Of all the rotten fucking luck," Vixy grumbled, checking to make sure her weapon was on stun before poking her own head out and taking a potshot at an armored canine. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his wounded leg. Vixy got her head behind the container before another plasma bolt struck the asphalt next to her. Little glowing chunks of pavement spewed into the air, and she wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell. "They do know we aren't black marketeers, right?"

"Probably not, no." James was firing again. "And I'm not going to tell them."

"Why not?" Vixy asked as he ducked back, taking the opportunity to return some fire of her own.

"Because then all the criminals around here will know we're not one of them, and we'll be fighting both sides," James replied, grimacing as he looked over at Peppy. The hare had taken cover in a recessed doorway. "Where's Archer?"

"I don't know." Vixy started scanning, and found him crouching behind the wall surrounding a chained off entrance to the Beta subway. "There!" She pointed and waved. He waved back. "How many of them are there?"

"I counted about four. We're evenly matched." James shook his head. "Of course, as long as we're stuck fighting these guys, we're not retrieving the Arwing."

"One thing at a time," Vixy advised. More plasma fire slapped against the metal container they were hiding behind. Too much, and the metal would begin to overheat, forcing them from their cover. Vixy took a few more shots, trying to gauge where their enemy was, and if they had anymore backup on the way. "You wouldn't happen to have a stun grenade, would you?"

"Yes actually," James answered. "Why?"

Vixy held out her hand and said, "Give it."

To his credit James didn't so much as hesitate. He unhooked the metal cylinder from his belt and handed it to her. "Now, I need to ask you to do something a little stupid."

"Name it."

"Break cover and run to those barrels over there," Vixy told him, pointing to a stack of metal drum barrels. "I need you to draw their fire so I can toss this."

"Got it. Say when."

Vixy nodded, pulled the arming device, and said, "When!"

James took off at a breakneck pace, bent over and firing as he ran. Vixy stood up, cocked her arm back, and threw the stun grenade towards the deployable cover the Crespo goons were using. As soon as the grenade was out of her hand she took cover again, looking to see if James had made it. He had. He was panting and out of breath, but looked otherwise no worse for wear. Then, with a bang and a flash of light, the stun grenade went off. Vixy did a five count, then stood up, pistol aimed towards the detonation point. Peppy and Archer rushed for it when there was no hostile fire forthcoming. Vixy saw Archer scanning the bodies. He looked up and held up his hand, thumb and forefinger together, other three fingers raised, the signal for "OK".

Vixy breathed a silent sigh of relief, but her ears told her that gunfights were continuing throughout the colony. The frigate in orbit must have really spooked them. Probably the Marines and Navy people shore leaving didn't help either, she thought, recalling the number of military personnel they'd seen in the bars last night.

"That frigate must have really spooked Crespo," Peppy said, joining her and James, Archer following behind him, keeping an eye on the other side of the road.

"Just what I was thinking," Vixy said.

"Doesn't matter. Our objective hasn't changed. We need to..." James was, once again, cut off mid sentence.

Vixy and the others spun around at the crashing, booming sound of a roof falling in behind them. No. Not falling in. Being blown out. The hangar bay they'd been getting ready to storm when Crespo Security had crashed their party didn't look like a hangar bay anymore. Instead it looked like a flaming pile of sheet metal and broken glass. And out of the flames, rising, fittingly, like a phoenix from the ashes, was a dropship, its shield barrier flaring in an oval shaped bubble around it, protecting it from the heat and flames. "You've gotta be kidding me," Vixy breathed.

Hooked onto the tail of the dropship, hanging by magnetic clamps, was the Arwing. "Peppy?"

"Yeah James?"

Vixy held up a hand to protect her face as the dropship gunned its engines and took off in the direction of Beta Colony's old, little used spaceport.

"Call Jackson and tell him to get the frigate on the horn." James shook his head and turned to his team. Vixy could see the angry, defeated look in his eyes. "It's up to the Defense Force now."

Paul Whitefur was just sitting down to dinner in the captain's mess when the comm panel beeped. Sighing he stood up, giving his Chief Medical Officer, Bella Claireaux, who he'd invited to dine with him tonight, an apologetic look. Bella, a shiba inu, gave him a perky smile and a dismissive hand wave. Tapping the response key, he said, "Whitefur."

"Captain, can you please come to the bridge? Something's going on down on BR-558."

The voice, belonging to Erika Henderson, his first officer, came through the panel clear and calm, but with an unmistakable note of urgency. "On my way." Paul looked at Bella and said, "I'm afraid dinner will have the be cut short. I do apologize."

Bella stood up and smiled. "No need to. If something's going on I had best head to sickbay anyway. Tomorrow night?"

"Of course." Paul opened the door and ushered her out first. He made his way through the crew mess, nodding and smiling, but not stopping for anyone. It was a short walk from there to a nearby turbolift, and then to the command deck. When the turbolift doors sighed open Paul took quick stock of the bridge. The tension level was higher than when he'd left for dinner at the end of his shift. Erika, who would normally have been off duty at the same time he was, had volunteered along with the rest of the senior staff for an extra shift so as many crew and junior officers could enjoy a bit of shore leave as possible.

Striding onto the bridge Paul nodded to his first officer as the red feathered cardinal stood up, vacating the command chair. Paul sat down as Erika took her seat next to him, flipping open the control panel on his right armrest and logging himself in as on watch. "What's the situation?" he asked.

"We picked up a sharp increase in comm use on Crespo frequencies about half an hour ago," Erika explained, handing him a padd.

Paul looked it over, scrolling through the raw data and the analysis provided by both the ship's computer and the communications officer. "I assume it's not someone ordering groceries?"

"No. The band their using is encrypted and it looks to be military," Erika said. "We're still not quite certain..."

"Captain!" The deep, resounding voice of Lieutenant Brandon Carlyle, the bulldog tactical officer, boomed across the bridge from his position at the tactical station.

"Yes Mr. Carlyle?" Paul looked over, eyebrows raised.

"Weapons fire detected, sir. Beta Colony. Lots of it," Carlyle informed him.

Paul turned to the comm officer. "Ensign. Get me Mr. Figaro. And barring him someone higher up the food chain."

"Yes sir."

"What do you think it is, sir?" Erika asked, keeping her voice low.

"Sir? I have Mr. Figaro."

"I suspect we're about to find out, Commander." Glancing at the ensign manning the comm station he said, "On screen."

The main viewing screen, which had been displaying the stars and small asteroids of this sector of Meteo, as well as the pockmarked and developed surface of BR-558, shimmered and then changed to an image of Allen Figaro, in his office, a bit of color on his simian cheeks. "Captain, is there something I can help you with?"

Paul gave him a quick smile and said, "Actually I was calling to see if there's something we can help you with."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Figaro said, his cheeks turning slightly redder.

Paul heard Erika snort next to him. He gave her a subtle look to maintain all decorum, and then said to the screen, "Really? It's just that there seems to be a bit of a...fracas going on in your Beta Colony. Is someone giving you trouble?"

Figaro pursed his lips and glanced downward for a moment. Paul waited. "We are in the middle of a...routine security sweep of our Beta Colony at the moment Captain. I assure you there's nothing to worry about."

"Indeed." Paul's smile vanished, replaced by a frown, his eyes dead serious. "Do your 'routine' security sweeps usually involve intense firefights?"

Once more Figaro pursed his lips and looked down at his hands where they sat clasped on his desk. When he refocused himself on the camera he said, "As I am certain you are aware there are criminal elements that have made a home for themselves in Beta Colony. They at times put up a bit of...resistance to our attempts to enforce law and order."

"I see." Paul nodded. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that the Federation looks very unkindly towards these kinds of violent crackdowns."

Figaro tensed. "This is hardly a violent crackdown. I can attest that any firefights being engaged in by officers of Crespo Security are entirely in self-defense. And they will be conducted with weapons set to the stun setting, of course. We have no desire to kill anyone."

Paul glanced at Carlyle. The bulldog tapped a few buttons, then shook his head with a shrug. No way to tell from this distance. We're on the opposite side from Beta. And trying to determine specific energy settings on plasma or particle weapons is damn near impossible with sensors even on the ground. Looking back to Figaro, Paul said, "Very well. We will be monitoring this 'routine sweep' from up here."

"Of course. You're personnel down here though, on shore leave..."

"What about them?" Paul asked.

"Would you like to withdraw them?" Figaro said.

Paul glacned at Erika, the two of them both coming to the same silent conclusion. The crackdown was a response to Crespo believing they had the Federation looking over their shoulder. "I assume your security forces are capable of keeping the violence contained to Beta Colony."

Figaro straightened and looked indignant. Gotcha. Paul thought to himself. "I assure you, they are more than capable of that."

"Then I see no reason not to allow my crew to continue enjoying a well deserved rest. Do let us know however if there's anything we can do to lend assistance." Figaro shook his head. "Very well. A pleasure speaking to you as always Mr. Figaro." Paul looked to the comm officer and made a slashing motion with his hand. The connection cut a second later.

Erika huffed beside him. "If Command had known all Crespo needed was a frigate to drop by unannounced..."

"Mmm." Paul nodded.

"Sir?"

"Yes Mr. Carlyle?"

"There's an unidentified ship emerging from the Beta Colony spaceport," the bulldog reported. "It matches the classification of a known pirate vessel."

"Ah. Crespo has flushed a bit of game from the weeds." Paul smiled and was about to give the order to intercept when the comm officer interrupted him.

"Sir. I have an incoming transmission from BR-558."

"Figaro?"

"Negative. It's on an encrypted channel. Federation Intelligence." That got everyone's attention. The comm officer's eyes widened and her feline tail fuzzed a bit in surprise. "Sir, they say the Arwing is onboard that ship!"

It was a bit of a rough ride, but thus far no one had started shooting at them. That wouldn't last long though, Cadman knew. There was a Federation frigate in orbit above BR-558, and it wouldn't take a genius to notice what was going on. And if there's anything Feds enjoy doing it's chasing down pirates.

With a bump the dropship's motion came to a stop. The status light by the deployment hatch turned from red to green, and the ramp started lowering with the whine and hiss of hydraulics. Cadman unbuckled himself and stood up. Crew hustled past him, and Cadman could smell the sweat and stress wafting off of each of them. Shea climbed down from the cockpit, Dylan following her, and said to Cadman, "Come to the bridge."

Cadman followed her, noting the irritated look Dylan cast his way. The maned wolf didn't seem to like the boss warming up to someone from the outside. It could have been for personal reasons on Dylan's part, but for the moment Cadman was more than willing to put it down to the sort of mild paranoia almost all criminals lived with. In point of fact, Cadman would have been more concerned if Dylan, as Shea's right hand man, hadn't been concerned on some level about his presence.

As they made their way to the bank of turbolifts at the other end of the hangar bay, Cadman took stock of the brightly lit, cavernous space. The smell of machine lubricant and synthetic materials permeated the air, with the tangy odor of exertion mixed in. Crates of spareparts and excess cargo lined the walls, and ramps and metal stairways led to the second level gantries and catwalks.

Cadman also noted the presence of about half a dozen Troidem-class fighters, a newer class of sturdy raider ships, crewed by a pilot and a gunner. Their presence on the ship indicated to Cadman that Shea had money to burn, and was smart enough to invest that money in hardware that would not only get the job done, but also cost little in terms of maintenance. Troidems weren't flashy, and in fact they could be downright ugly with their gunmetal, rectangular fuselages and fixed wing configuration. The beauty of them came in their level of firepower, allowing them to go up against patrol ships and heavily armed freighters, and the fact that they were highly customizable, their parts able to be interchanged with just about anything you could find on the market, making repairs and modifications a sinch.

Stepping into the turbolift, Cadman directed his attention to Shea. Dylan was speaking into his communicator, relaying orders to the various section heads and getting confirmation that they were ready to warp at a moment's notice. Their exit from the Beta Colony spaceport hadn't been subtle. "So, does this ship have a name?"

Shea glanced at him and nodded. "Orpheon."

"Interesting." Cadman nodded back. The name had a familiar, but still otherworldly ring to it.

The lift doors opened and the three of them walked onto the bridge. It was surprisingly spacious. Cadman glanced around, noting the composition of the crew. A good mix of species. All of them with the rough and tumble look of career pirates and professional mercenaries. Control consoles being manned by the crew all looked to be in good repair, though with plenty of scuffing and fingerprints to indicate frequent use. Beyond the consoles though Cadman saw that the main viewscreen was actually a large, wrap around window made of transparent aluminum. Holograms flitted to-and-fro within it, providing general status updates and enhanced visuals.

Cadman took up a position in the back of the bridge, making sure to stay out of everyone's way and simply observe. Shea took the center seat, Dylan standing like a watchful sentinel behind her. At her presence all the crew sat a little straighter, and the hushed conversations took on a more clipped and urgent tone. She runs a tight ship then.

"Cap'n! That frigate is closing on us."

"On visual," Shea ordered.

A holoscreen slid into place directly in Shea's line of sight, displaying the image of a Federation Ceres-class frigate.

The Ceres-class, with its boxy, silver appearance, and three oversized engine pods, were Federation workhorses that, though slightly underpowered, were more than a match for most pirate vessels. Cadman had a feeling the Orpheon could handle itself against one, but he knew better than to underestimate an opponent. Ceres-class vessels had done miraculous things in the past against raiders who thought they had them outgunned and outmaneuvered.

"They're hailing us," the comm officer reported. "Should I put them on?"

"Do it," Shea said.

Interesting. Cadman had been expecting her to ignore the hail.

The image of the frigate was replaced by that of an arctic fox. He looked young, a lot younger than Cadman had been expecting. Either this commander was extraordinarily talented, or extremely well connected. When the fox spoke, his voice issuing forth in a clipped, upper-class Grantham accent, Cadman immediately marked him down as well connected, though potentially still skilled. Grantham Brahmins had a long tradition of military service, and sometimes skill and dedication did make it down through the bloodlines.

"This is Captain Paul Whitefur of the L.F.S.C. Clad in Amber. I advise you to stop your engines and power down your weapons immediately."

"Or else what pup?" Shea replied, leaning back in her seat. Cadman noted that one of her hands strayed casually to the control pad on her chair, and her fingers danced across the touch screen in subtle, almost undetectable movements.

If the reference to his age bothered him at all Whitefur didn't show it. "Or else I'll blow you out of the stars."

"Odd. I was under the impression that the Federation believed in bringing criminals like me to justice," Shea said, her fingers no longer tapping. "What happened to a trial by a jury of my peers?"

Whitefur shook his head. "You know as well as I do that the Federation has no jurisdiction here. I'm contacting you at the request of Crespo Mining Industries, and I'm afraid they take far less kindly to you and your ilk."

"Corporate sell out. I see." Shea nodded in understanding. "Well Captain, if you want to catch me and blow me out of the stars, I suggest you do it quickly." With that she made a cutting motion across her throat to the comm officer. The connection went dead. "Hang on everyone. This is going to be a little rough."

Cadman arched an eyebrow, grabbing hold of a handlebar on the wall near him. The deck plating beneath his boots began to shudder, and a low thrumming noise assaulted his ears, making him pin them back. Then he felt his stomach drop and a wave of gravity pull him backward and downwards. He held onto the bar and managed to weather the sudden force. Looking out the viewport he could see the subtle distortion of the starifield that indicated they were now at warp, viewing reality from the safe, stable confines of a warp bubble. Ordinarily the ship's I-diffusers would have prevented even the slightest notice of the change in their relativistic state, but what Shea had done was...unorthodox.

The snow leopard stood up and made her way over to him. Looking up at him she said, "We'll be out of their sensor range soon at our current velocity." Of course, velocity was a somewhat deceiving term. The ship, ensconced in its warp bubble, wasn't actually moving at all, but rather was 'warping' the fabric of space and time around them. The logistics of it went well beyond Cadman's expertise, but what he did know, from his high school physics class, was that warp drive didn't so much break the previously agreed upon laws of physics, so much as it cheated around them. "Once that's done, I'd like to know where we're going."

Cadman nodded. "Ballsy move, doing that inside the solar system." Going to warp while still in the grip of star or a planet's gravity wasn't anything unheard of, but was still recommended against. In a place as heavily trafficked as Lylat, the potential for a collision or other encounter with a navigational hazard was great enough that civilian ships were required to reach a warp point at the edge of the system before making their jump. Military vessels could jump outside of a warp point, but only under extreme circumstances. Of course, that being said, it had likely been the last thing that the Federation ship and its crew had been anticipating. "Should we expect pursuit?"

"We activated warp bafflers the moment we jumped. They can't track our course," Shea replied. "Getting out of sensor range is me being cautious. Now, where are we dropping this Arwing?"

She's good. Cadman smiled. "Eladard."

A/N: I thought now would be a good time for a slightly larger author's note. Next chapter is going to see the return of a few characters introduced before the BR-558 arc, and will mark the beginning of the final arc of the story. For those who are enjoying the story, fear not, we've got more than a few chapters left to go. And, for those with an appreciation for world building, and being immersed in a universe and a story, we'll have plenty of succulent, if perhaps not totally necessary, details coming for not just Eladard, but another world fans of Lylat should be familiar with.

See you next week!

-general whitefur