A silvery mist sprayed from the hull slashes. That first shot was to let the angular intruder
scout craft know that the dagger thin system patrol ship meant business. The range was
still quite long. The tall dark haired pilot still had hopes of evading the warship. If he
could maneuver around the back of the planet, he could still land and make the
rendezvous. The loud boom proved him wrong, tumbling the ship. The gunner's skill was
much more accurate than he hoped. His control panel went dead along with all lights
instantly. moments later, the battery powered emergency lights lit the mortally damaged
scout. The damage control board came to life again. Right hull slashed and deformed
around the fuel tank. Engineering compartment open to space. Fusion plant off line. No
power to the maneuver or jump drives. Not even the coffee pot worked. He might have
battery power to send a message to the pickup point. IF he worked quickly, he should be
able to send before his tumbling ship hit the atmosphere.
Proctor Samuels sat at the dark wood table, back against the wall as he watched the
crowded tavern. His light blue scout uniform stained with coolant, grease, and the blood
of several creatures and several people. The uniform helped avoid difficulties. Scouts are
respected for what they are, if not for the peculiarities that makes them succeed. Any
behaviors or gaps in common knowledge would be well disguised.
His gray eyes searched the for anyone he could use to get back home. The message he
received last night was extremely discouraging. His pickup pilot called in just before
hitting air at meteoric speed tumbling wildly. At least his death was over quick. Proctor
Samuels was deep in the territory of his enemies with no way home. His mission of
gathering information was complete and compiled in a highly incriminating case of data
cubes. No way could he get that case through a customs check point like the entrance to
the starport. Acquiring credits to charter a ship would be easy from these deadheads, but
could very easily signal the local psionic agents of his presence. He spent so much time
keeping clean and covering his tracks to preserve the information’s integrity, it would be
a waste to loose that integrity now.
There is just what he is looking for walking through the door, a merchanters crew. Five
matching uniforms with Moon and Star patches of the distant shipping company, Luna
Transports. Three humans, Two male and a female plus a mismatched pair of vargr. The
gray wolf looked male and the tan pug was definitely female. Manipulating at least one of
them should be just the thing to get him heading in the right direction. He should even be
able to get the info case aboard with the cargo.
scout craft know that the dagger thin system patrol ship meant business. The range was
still quite long. The tall dark haired pilot still had hopes of evading the warship. If he
could maneuver around the back of the planet, he could still land and make the
rendezvous. The loud boom proved him wrong, tumbling the ship. The gunner's skill was
much more accurate than he hoped. His control panel went dead along with all lights
instantly. moments later, the battery powered emergency lights lit the mortally damaged
scout. The damage control board came to life again. Right hull slashed and deformed
around the fuel tank. Engineering compartment open to space. Fusion plant off line. No
power to the maneuver or jump drives. Not even the coffee pot worked. He might have
battery power to send a message to the pickup point. IF he worked quickly, he should be
able to send before his tumbling ship hit the atmosphere.
Proctor Samuels sat at the dark wood table, back against the wall as he watched the
crowded tavern. His light blue scout uniform stained with coolant, grease, and the blood
of several creatures and several people. The uniform helped avoid difficulties. Scouts are
respected for what they are, if not for the peculiarities that makes them succeed. Any
behaviors or gaps in common knowledge would be well disguised.
His gray eyes searched the for anyone he could use to get back home. The message he
received last night was extremely discouraging. His pickup pilot called in just before
hitting air at meteoric speed tumbling wildly. At least his death was over quick. Proctor
Samuels was deep in the territory of his enemies with no way home. His mission of
gathering information was complete and compiled in a highly incriminating case of data
cubes. No way could he get that case through a customs check point like the entrance to
the starport. Acquiring credits to charter a ship would be easy from these deadheads, but
could very easily signal the local psionic agents of his presence. He spent so much time
keeping clean and covering his tracks to preserve the information’s integrity, it would be
a waste to loose that integrity now.
There is just what he is looking for walking through the door, a merchanters crew. Five
matching uniforms with Moon and Star patches of the distant shipping company, Luna
Transports. Three humans, Two male and a female plus a mismatched pair of vargr. The
gray wolf looked male and the tan pug was definitely female. Manipulating at least one of
them should be just the thing to get him heading in the right direction. He should even be
able to get the info case aboard with the cargo.
