T4 -- Into the Unknown.

[ManOfGrey]

“We now stand upon the beginning of a new dawn. For eight centuries, since the collapse of the Rule of Man, our galaxy has suffered through a dark age as we lost contact with all of the tribes of Humaniti. But now our nineteen worlds have joined together in order to emerge from this Long Night. And as trade, commerce, and peace, once again unite us, let us go forth to re-establish contact with our lost brethren. And... perhaps... even rediscover the home-worlds of those two great empires that came before us, now all but shrouded in myth... the planets Vland... and Earth.”

Kathrine, Duchess of Sylea, watched her brother’s speech on the holo-viewer. She wasn’t impressed by his words half as much as as she was by the roar of the crowd standing just outside, a hundred stories below. A smile crept across her face as she imagined just how self-satisfied her brother Cleon must be feeling right now. The crowd’s absolute adoration of him would feed his ego for weeks. But then her smile melted away.

He should have conquered them.

After all, what did most of those nineteen worlds have to offer them? Only Zimiin had managed to rebuild themselves, and rediscover space-flight after centuries of isolation. And being three parsecs away was remote enough to make conquest difficult. The others, however, were little more than savages living in the dirt, barely eking out a living without the massive technological advantages Sylea, and Zimiin, enjoyed.

Their conquest would have been easy.

In fact, three of those nineteen worlds Cleon was counting were not even inhabited, their populations having died out after centuries of neglect. Plans for re-colonization were underway. But why should the resources of those worlds just be given away? They should be kept for those who knew how to use them best. Still, it wasn’t hard to understand what Cleon was thinking.

He wasn’t planning to conquer an empire.

He was buying one.

 

[ManOfGrey]

Commodore Liza Ramanii just stood there staring out through the plexiglass at the blue-green planet slowly rotating beneath her feet, so far below. She could feel the vibration of the engines of the massive warship through her boots. The IISS Duchess Kathrine was hers to command — the pride of the fleet, named after the Emperor’s sister, the newly installed Duchess of Sylea. Cleon had vacated the rights to the duchy in favor of his sister after installing himself as Emperor. A generous gesture Liza conceded, if not mostly ceremonial. Much like the name of this ship, whose paint was still drying. It may be designated CF-1, but it was hardly new. The ship itself was over twenty-five years old, inherited from the “old” Sylean Navy, just like her two siblings. And those three ships were the newest, most powerful, capital ships the “new” Imperial Navy had to offer.

I just hope it’s enough.

The Admiralty, for the most part, echoed the Emperor’s confidence. Liza, a forty-year veteran, certainly knew when it was politically correct to remain silent. And to give him credit, the Emperor’s introduction of small, low-tech “jeep carriers,” with only four to six modern fighter craft aboard, had taken the wind out of any number of pirate bands. Able to be stationed in orbit around a low-tech planet or a system’s gas giant for months at a time, the nimble fighter craft could respond to a distress call faster then any ship in the fleet. And few pirates had the stomach to try to fight a small squadron of them. They may be a bit… fragile… in comparison to a full-sized patrol cruiser. But they certainly packed a wallop, especially in numbers. Some lower-tech corsair built out of spare parts and held together by duct tape really didn’t stand a chance against them.

And the political ramifications were immense. Low-tech worlds scrambled to get in line for this program in order to protect the shipping lanes they were becoming so dependent upon. They happily split the cost of the ships with the Third Imperium by supplying the Empire with the raw materials that itself was becoming to depend upon. The arrangement had worked well for the last twenty years, and was the impetus that led to the Imperium’s formation. Right now, the status quo looked pretty rosy.

But it wasn’t the status quo that kept Liza awake at night.

Those few fighters are no match for a modern ship-of-the-line.

With the “new” Interstellar Scout Service working overtime turning over every rock in this part of the galaxy searching for “the lost tribes of Humaniti,” Liza truly feared what they might stir up. Liza herself laid good odds that there just may be another interstellar trade consortium of some kind out there who may have recovered from the Long Night better than Cleon’s nascent Third Imperium — another “empire” who isn’t interested in joining the Imperium half as much as it is in conquering them.

Of course a very ambitious building schedule was underway to strengthen the Navy, and they certainly had the raw materials flowing in to accomplish it. All they needed was time. Right now Sylea was the only world with the technology capable of building a modern Navy, and the shipyards were overflowing with orders. The newest battlecruiser wasn’t due to come on-line for another three years, all-the-while the Scout Service was trying to expand the Imperium’s reach at break-neck speeds.

Liza sighed.

I just hope it’s enough.

 

[ManOfGrey]

“I’m sorry, sir. The request was denied. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Reaper did his best to keep a straight face, and not roll his eyes. Stupid bureaucratic process.

“I understand, son. I submitted a Form 15-SA/5G. Does the computer show who signed off on the form?”

“Major Reinfield, sir. Perhaps you can take the issue up with him.”

“Sure… thank you. I’ll do that.” When hell freezes over.

Reaper had been denied an electronic sniper scope because of some stupid petty rivalry? Here he was about to embark into the unknown, and this crops up? This was beyond ignorant! Now that Reinfield had been put in charge of the base’s logistics office, he was using his position to settle some old scores, it seemed.

Reaper turned, and walked away with a smile on his face.

Well, Reinfield can just kiss my muscular, Lilly-white ass, for all I care… because two can play at that game.

Reinfield would have a conniption if he found out Reaper had been issued a suit of Battle Dress to take out during his detached duty with the Scout Service. Reaper had connections too. And Ramirez had owned him big!

But he didn’t have the time for that right now. They were scheduled to ship out tomorrow, and Reaper still had to pick up their pilot.

 

[ManOfGrey]

“There you go… she’s all yours.”

Khat rubbed her wrist where the handcuffs had chaffed.

“Khatlyne Ambressi?”

“Yea… whatever. Call me Khat.”

“I’m Reaper.”

“Your mother hate you for some reason?”

“It’s my call sign. Welcome aboard. Pardon the joke, but I’d like to start off on the right foot,” Reaper said suppressing a grin as he handed Khat an electronic anklet.

“And what do you expect me to do with that?”

“I thought that was obvious… you put it on your ankle. Or would you rather me do it for you?”

Khat glared.

“Look… I don’t know what you did to end up in this situation, and I really don’t care. We’re both here, and it’s what we’ve got. I'd just rather make the best of the situation that we can. The courts sentenced you here for work probation. I assume it’s either here or jail. And the service requires you to wear the anklet just so you won’t get any funny ideas and try to run.”

Khat continued to glare.

Reaper sighed and couldn’t help but roll his eyes this time.

“GUARDS! TAKE HER BACK. SHE REFUSES TO COOPERATE.”

The two security guards, now fifty meters away, paused, and began to turn back.

Khat glanced at the two approaching guards, and at the starship behind her. Reluctantly she took the anklet and snapped it in place. Reaper bent down, checked that it was secure, and pressed a button on the side. An LED blinked twice. Reaper stood and waved the guards off.

“Perhaps you should look as if the glass is half full. If we get into any trouble out there, at least we can track your location, and come find you, if you get separated.”

Khat glared some more.

“You don’t talk much, do you? Your dossier said you’re a pilot. You any good?”

“Yea. Why?”

“Because I figured all the good ones are already taken. Clearly the Scout Service is stretched so thin they’re raiding the jails for pilots.”

Khat crossed her arms, and continued to glare.

Great, Reaper thought, who’s next?

 

[ManOfGrey]

Hello! My name is Carmen! I am from Bala. I am excited to be back navigating and look forward to exploring systems. I know it will be an adventure to remember.

Carmen wiped her sweaty palms on her coveralls. Seriously? Stage fright? After all these years?

As she rehearsed her little introduction in her head, she decided it wasn't easy getting back on the horse after all. What has it been? Ten years? Maybe twelve since she left the Navy. But the memories were flooding back. She could almost feel the console under her fingers, the computers... the ship itself... responding to her commands. Then, for just moment, she had a flash of the computer screens displaying the complex equations of jump space.

For a moment it was if the last twelve years had never happened.

There has be a joke in there somewhere.

Damn, she was nervious. And she couldn't figure out why. Once upon a time this was old hat. The Scout Service had recruited her for a two year hitch, but it looked like this first assignment was going to be a cake walk. All she had to do was navigate out to a couple of systems that were probably deserted. The old maps listed them as "Kiur" and "Girku." But there were no radio waves, or communications of any kind, emminating from them. There was a remote possibility that some of the original settlers had somehow survived the last eight centuries, and their technology had regressed below their ability to keep in radio communication. But Kiru's atmosphere was pretty thin, and Girku's atmosphere was pretty dense, and tainted. Both planets required humans to have supplimental masks, or something, to be able to breathe. So unless any survivors were able to somehow build underground shelters of some sort and were able to produce crops...

Carmen sighed. That wasn't her problem. All she had to do was to navigate there. Five jumps in. Five jumps out. Easy peasy.

But damn, she was nervious.

Hello. My name is Carmen. I am from Bala. I am excited to be back navigating and look forward to exploring systems.

 

[ManOfGrey]

“Jump transition complete. Reading normal space. Readouts are in the green. Returning helm control. Khat, you have the ball.” That sounded confident enough.

“Roger that. We’re in the pipe, five by five. Plotting course towards nearest gas giant. Navigation, do you have a fix?”

“What? What was that?”

“What was what?”

“I’m not sure. It looks like a weak signal on the array. I’ll try to boost it.”

“This is free trader Beowulf, calling anyone…
“Mayday, Mayday… we are under attack… main drive is gone… turret number one not responding…
“Mayday… losing cabin pressure fast… calling anyone… please help…
“This is free trader Beowulf…
“Mayday…”

Silence lingered for a moment.

“Let me see if I can route the sensors from the console upstairs to down here.”

“Copy. Do we have a fix?”

“They’re pretty deep in the well. It’s hard to get an exact fix.”

“How about an ETA?”

“Just a second.”

“Best guess?”

“Well… we still have our relative velocity from when we made the jump, and we were haul’in from the gravity boost from the last gas giant we skimmed. Call it less than an hour to intercept…? Probably forty minutes if we accelerated towards them. But without slowing down, we’d fly right by them.”

“Scanners are up. Scanning now.
“Looks like a standard two hundred ton Zimiin Far Trader. It’s in close proximity to another ship… approximately four hundred tons… but I don’t recognize the configuration. Nothing about it on the Imperial database.”

Silence lingered again.

“So… what are we going to do?”

“Aaa… you know? At four hundred tons, they’re bigger than us. Right?”

 

[ManOfGrey]

“Free Trader Beowulf, this is the ISS Nymeria Sunirse… do you need assistance? Are you under attack?

“Free Trader Beowulf, please respond!”

“Anything?”

“Nope. Nothing but static.”

“I wonder if they’re already dead.”

“Hold on. It looks like we’re being scanned.”

“By who?”

“That bigger ship.”

“Well? Scan them back.”

“Again, at four hundred tons, it’s about the same size as an Imperial Patrol Cruiser. They’re powering up engines. Looks like they are turning to an intercept course. Power output is about a third below that of a Patrol Cruiser. Speed down by a quarter, also. But, regardless, they are heading our way at 3Gs.”

“So we can’t outrun them.”

“Not in this ship.”

“In that case, let’s not even try. Why don’t we continue to slow down to be able to help the Far Trader, but plot an intercept course with those guys on the way in? Think we can do that, Glare-Bear?”

“Glare-Bear!?”

Carmen couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sure. Everyone needs a call sign.” Reaper winked. "Anyway, that will give us a pass across their bow, won’t it?”

“Sure. But just one.”

“With luck, one’s all I’m going to need.

“How many missiles do we have stocked.”

“One on the launcher, and five more in storage. Why?”

“Remind me after this is over to remove the warhead from a couple of them. That way we can dump them overboard and see if an adversary will run into them as we pass.”

“So essentially, you want to drop mines?”

“You got it. Just dump it out the trash chute.”

“I don’t know about a trash chute, but there is an aft hatch between the two power plants, but considering the heat and radiation of the exhaust, it’s really only meant to be used with the engines powered down.”

“In that case, that may not be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was never given the access codes to restart. If we shut things down, I can’t power the ship back up.”

“That’s one hell of an oversight.”

“No, it’s not. I have the access codes. Which means… you can’t leave without me.” Now it was Carmen’s turn to wink. “But you should also know… I’m an astrogator, not a pilot. So we need Khat in order to take off. FYI.”

“So… the two of us are essential. But he isn’t.” Khat’s grin grew. “I’m starting to like this gig more and more.”

Reaper sighed. “Great. Oh, well… with any luck, we won’t survive the next hour or so.”

 

[ManOfGrey]

One hour ago.

“Please! Everyone! Return to your cabins and lock your doors! Everything will be all right!”

Broccoli’s pleas fell upon deaf ears. How could half-a-dozen people cause such a ruckus? He understood that they were scared. They were yelling and screaming at each other. It was as if a fight was about to break out. But fighting among themselves was not going to help anything. Their Far Trader had come under attack, and was now drifting in orbit of the gas giant they were using to refuel. Both defensive turrets had been knocked out, and poor Yalla had been grievously injured when his turret had exploded. Broccoli had managed to get him down to the medical bay. But, now leaving, he was confronted by the crowd.

Actually “ignored” by the crowd was more accurate.

“If you don’t settle down, there will be no desert for anybody!”

Strangely enough, that didn’t seem to help either.

People were yelling at each other, with half ready to surrender to the pirates and beg for mercy. The other half seemed ready to fight to the death. Which Broccoli immediately saw as a problem.

Discretely making his way around the crowd he climbed the ladder to the level above and closed the hatch behind him… and made it a point to lock it so no one could follow. A few steps down the hall, he pulled out his keys and opened the armory. It consisted all of four revolvers and a shotgun.

It’s probably best these don’t fall into the hands of a mob.

Strapping the shotgun to his back and stuffing three of the revolvers in his waistband, he then made his way to the bridge. Where, it seemed, the owners of the Far Trader were having the same argument.

“We can’t just surrender.”

“They’ve already disabled both turrets and the maneuver drive. What else can we do? If we try to repel borders, we’ll be overwhelmed.”

“Turn around and open the cargo hatch. Allow it to explosively decompress. The force of decompression should push the ship into a lower orbit. The gravity of the gas giant will do the rest, and draw us away from them.”

“Into a quickly decaying orbit. Even if we survive re-entry, the pressure of the atmosphere will eventually crush the hull.”

“They’d be crazy to follow us.”

“Even if it worked, how are we going to get back out?”

The captain simply shook her head. There wasn’t an answer.

Broccoli cleared his throat, and handed the captain and her husband each a revolver. Apparently Broccoli was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

“Ma’am, if you’ll excuse me.”

 

[kilemall]

The REAL story of what happened with the Beowulf?

All Travellerdom has been waiting for this for decades!!!

Gimme time to make popcorn.

 

[ManOfGrey]

The REAL story of what happened with the Beowulf?

All Travellerdom has been waiting for this for decades!!!

Gimme time to make popcorn.

Thank you for the kind words. But since we've taken a break from the narrative, I just wanted to add a couple of thoughts.

My friends and I decided to take a break from our regular D&D game, and I talked them into trying Traveller. They have never played before, and I thought they should be exposed to Beowulf's distress call from the box cover of the LLBs. I have always found that introduction... haunting.

Interestingly, though, this story is less about what happened to the Beowulf, and more about their attackers. (At least I hope it will. Players' dialogue and actions are sometimes a little off the wall.)

In the T4 supplement, Starships, the first and last sentences on page 50 read:

"The Corsair, an armed raiding ship, is mostly used by pirates. The Corsair is not normally found on the open market, as the ship is a non-commercial type."

Well, if that's the case... then where do they come from? Who builds them? Hopefully the players will be curious enough to try to find out.

I just hope the answer is popcorn worthy.

 

[rlmercad069]

I just hope the answer is popcorn worthy.

Or at least

 

[ManOfGrey]

The sound of the pumps faded away as the last of the air in the cargo hold was evacuated. Lights were off as Broccoli cracked the cargo bay door open. He could see eight dark shapes floating towards the ship as he drew a bead with his shotgun. Pulling the trigger, he was almost caught unawares. The recoil just about sent him spinning. He recovered quickly enough, but clearly missed completely. Shaking his head inside his helmet, Broccoli counted his blessings as it was clear the intruders missed the muzzle flash, and still seemed oblivious to his position. It was certainly hard to hear the sound of the blast out here in the vacuum of space.

Thank God for binary propellants.

Drawing one of the revolvers, Broccoli once again drew a bead on the closest silhouette’s head, fifty meters away. Once again he pulled the trigger, but this time the figure went limp immediately. The reaction of the remainder of the approaching shadows was just as immediate. They also drew black profiles of rifles, and, holding them to their shoulders, scanned the length of the Far Trader with their muzzles.

Undeterred, Broccoli drew another bead and fired again. Another of the figures in the lead also went limp. Both bodies were beginning to spin as air escaped from the punctures in their suits.

Two of the shadows caught hold of their listless comrades, and began to patch the bullet holes in their suits as two more shadows passed them floating closer, leveling laser-rifle shaped forms in Broccoli’s general direction.

Broccoli fired again. And once again the lead figure began to flop listless, like a puppet with its strings cut… the laser-rifle floating away, held fast only by its umbilical.

The lead shadow, now beginning to panic, used one hand to wave his laser-rifle’s muzzle back and forth from his hip, purely for show, as he used his other hand to snag his companion. Using maneuvering thrusters, all the belligerents began to retreat back to their dark ship in the sunrise.

Satisfied, Broccoli hit the switch to close the bay door the half-meter he had opened it, in order to re-pressurize.

 

[ManOfGrey]

Broccoli took off his helmet as the cargo hold finished re-pressurizing.

“Broccoli…” It was the captain’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Please report to the bridge, immediately. And cease all hostilities.”

Broccoli hit the intercom button on the way. “On my way, ma’am.”

Sixty seconds and a quick climb up a ladder later, Broccoli was stepping over the first mate whose legs were protruding from an access panel outside the bridge.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Haven’t you stirred up the hornet’s nest?” she said with an ironic smile. “I am told over our wrist communicators if we don’t surrender immediately and lay down arms, we will be destroyed.”

“I understand, ma’am. But ten minutes ago didn’t you say we couldn’t surrender?”

The captain sighed. “Yes. Yes, I did. But I’m going to have to consider the safety of everyone on board. I’ve been given assurances no one will come to any harm as long as we surrender our cargo.”

Broccoli raised an eyebrow. “And you believe that?”

“I’m not sure we have a choice.”

There was a buzz and what sounded like a spark from behind them.

“Try it now, dear.”

The captain flipped on the radio receiver. The overhead speaker immediately crackled to life.

“Beowulf… Beowulf… this is Laairer ground control. We received your distress call. Please reply ASAP. Over.”

“Beowulf… be advised, you are out of range for our fighter squadron to intercept your position. However, Imperiallines has volunteered to send their large, armed freighter, SS Number Six, to your location to provide assistance. However, at 2G acceleration, it will take them three days to arrive at your coordinates. It will then take a minimum of two passes for orbital insertion. Over.”

“I’m still not sure we have a choice. The cavalry’s going to be late.”

But then the speaker buzzed back to life.

“Free Trader Beowulf, this is the ISS Nymeria Sunrise… do you need assistance? Are you under attack? Over.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Close! Less than sixty light-seconds away.”

“Can we answer?”

“No. Not yet. The receiver is working, but I haven’t repaired the transmitter yet.”

“Damn.”

“Well, at least someone got our distress call before they knocked out our transmitter.”

Once again, the speaker squawked. “Hailing unknown vessel… this is Carmen Peperoncino of the ISS Nymeria Sunrise. State your intentions and heave to. Over.”

“Ma’am, I don’t know who these people are, but they are clearly challenging our attackers. If we’re going to make a move, now is the time.”

“And what would you have us do?”

“With respect ma’am, it was your idea to open the cargo bay and use the resulting explosive decompression to send us into a lower orbit. It may take them a while, but the cavalry is on its way. Hopefully someone will get here quickly enough to pull us out.”

“And what’s to keep those pirates from just blowing us out of the sky out of spite?”

“Our cargo. If they want it that bad, they won’t get it if it’s just smoking debris.”

The captain did not hesitate for a second more.

“Honey, plot a course. Let’s do this! And hope the cargo’s damn well secured.”

 

[ManOfGrey]

Reaper was concentrating so hard that sweat was rolling down his forehead. The electronic readouts on his weapons' console began to sharpen as the range closed between the two ships. He had already scored a hit with the laser turret on the enemy’s maneuver drive. At least he assumed so, since they had slowed to a 2G acceleration while their power output remained steady.

And to give Khat credit, she was juking the ship around like nobody’s business. It wasn’t making Reaper’s job any easier, but it was proving effective against any incoming fire. The enemy had only scored a single hit, and that had just ricocheted off the hull. Not bad considering they were outgunned three to one! (Actually two to one, since one of the enemy’s turrets looked like it had blown a power coupling during their exchange.)

But as they were approaching point-blank range, now was the time for the money shot.

“Now, Khat!”

The ship immediately leveled off. and for a split-second the green cross-hairs on Reaper’s screen aligned perfectly.

“Missile away… SCORE!”

The heat plume on Reaper’s screen was perfectly centered. He had hit the enemy’s bridge dead on!

The effect was immediate. Though the enemy ship was still accelerating, its heading was no longer under control. It’s trajectory leveled off into a straight line. It was a sitting duck.

Ten minutes later Reaper had managed to disable its two remaining turrets, and maneuver drive. Its momentum continued to carry it along its course. But now, unable to accelerate, it would probably be a week or more before they could clear the gas giant’s gravity to jump away safely. They certainly weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

Reaper was pleased. They had worked surprisingly well together as a crew. But as the distance between the two ships opened up, it was time to finish taking care of business.

“Any luck tracking the Beowulf?”

“No problem. Time to intercept, fifteen minutes. And just in time. It looks like their orbit has destabilized, and they are beginning to enter the outer atmosphere. Their hull is beginning to heat up.”

“Actually, that was a clever move on their part, whether it was intentional or not. It didn’t look like that other vessel was streamlined, so they couldn’t follow Beowulf into the atmosphere. But it doesn’t look like they can pull out. Otherwise I would think they would be doing so by now.”

“But we’re streamlined. Can we come underneath them, deploy the landing gear, and push them to a higher orbit?”

“Absolutely!”

Khat didn’t bother to warn anyone as she pulled a high-G maneuver to flip the ship one hundred and eighty degrees along their radial axis. Everyone just had to keep their lunch down on their own.

 

[ManOfGrey]

“Umbilical secure. Seal looks good. Crack the hatch.”

A hiss of cold air wafted inside the airlock as the outside hatch opened.

“Permission to come aboard?”

“Absolutely… Major. Welcome aboard the Beowulf. And thank you. I’m not sure where we’d be without your timely intervention.”

“No problem, ma’am. It’s lucky we were in the vicinity. May I assume you’re the captain?”

“Yes, sir. Captain Anderson, at your service. If you will follow me this way, we’ll make our way to the bridge, and we can assess our situation.”

“Please.”

Reaper turned to Carmen who had followed him through the hatch, and shrugged.

She shrugged back. “Why don’t you go on without me. I’ll just chill down here and see how everything checks out.”

“Works for me.”

 

[ManOfGrey]

“Major, this is my husband, and our first officer, Charles.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir.”

“No, sir. The pleasure is all ours. I’ve been in communication with your pilot over our wrist communicators, and she’s managed to get us to a stable orbit. We received word help is on the way from Laairer. Everything considering, I think we were pretty lucky.”

“Is everyone OK?”

"Poor Yalla was hurt pretty bad when his turret exploded. But other than that, no one else was injured. I guess we should count our blessings."

“Does he need tending to?”

“I don’t think so. Our steward, Broccoli, is a trained medic. He was able to get Yalla to our medical bay, and make him comfortable, at the very least. If necessary, we have a couple of suspended animation chambers available, if his condition deteriorates.”

"It sounds as if Yalla will be OK. I’m sure he will receive the best of treatment when you can get to safe harbor.”

Reaper paused for a moment.

"Captain, if you don't mind telling me, what is your cargo, and who are your passengers? I only ask to try to figure out why you were targeted by the pirates."

"I honestly don't know. We typically make a run from Zimiin to Laairer to Idmum, then back to Zimiin. Imperiallines is building a forward trading post on Laairer, so my first guess would be construction materials of some sort. There are a couple of earth moving machines down there. But everything else comes in sealed containers and is palletized when we get it. We just load and unload it."

The captain chuckled. "Well... that's not quite true. We didn't load and unload it. But the Imperiallines' robot that did is down there too.

"Anyway, as far as I can tell most of our passengers are Imperiallines’ personell. Which is ironic, of course. Imperiallines is a merchant company themselves. A huge one. I'm not sure why they hired a mom and pop outfit like us. But frankly, I'm just glad to get the work.

"There is one gentleman in cold sleep traveling from Zimiin to Idmum. Some kind of scientist. Said he wanted to travel to Argash for some research project. He asked if we would take him, but it's a little out of our way. And the Idmum-Zimiin run is very lucrative. Zimiin imports a lot of their food from Idmum. But we won't pick up that load for a couple of weeks.

The captain paused for a moment. "Probably longer now, considering everything that's happened."

"Captain, do you have a passenger manifest that I can get a copy of? I am feeling like you were specifically targeted by that pirate vessel, and I want to look into it further to see if I can ascertain why."

"Sure. If it weren't for you, I'm not sure where we would be. That's the least I can do. But, frankly, we only have seven passengers. With the exception of the gentleman in suspended animation, everyone else is probably either downstairs in the main cabin, or in their staterooms. I'm sure they would be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“Are any of your crew new to the Beowulf? If not, then I do not think that I have any questions for them." Glancing back at the First Mate, Reaper asked, "Do you think he will be able to get your comms up and running before the rescue vessel arrives?"

The first mate leaned against the bulkhead and crossed his arms. "Three days? Yea... I think I can kludge something back together by then.

"As far as the crew... most are family. Yalla and Jerome are my cousins. Juniper is our daughter. We took on Broccoli about... what? Four or five months ago? He's been through the run with us about three times now. Nice enough fellow. And he's a pretty decent cook. The passengers complement him all the time."

Reaper nodded at the first mate and then said to the Captain, "Broccoli seems like a good enough fellow. I do not have any questions for your crew, so if you have anything for them to be doing to get your ship back up and running, go on ahead. If you could get me the name of that scientist whenever you have the time, I will head down and see if the rest of your passengers know anything that can help us."

Going down to the passengers, Reaper asked each individual their name and profession. And evidently the captain was right, Everyone worked for Imperiallines. And, in fact, each had a laminated Imperiallines photo ID card they usually wore on a lanyard around their neck. By checking their names and photos against the ship's manifest showed they all matched.

But matching their names and photos to some kind of database might prove to be a little trickier. Since faster-than-light communication didn’t exist, it would take years to check with the more industrialized planets, or Imperiallines’ headquarters.

But Reaper had an idea. He needed a hacker. And beggars can’t be choosers.

 

[ManOfGrey]

On his way back to the Nymeria Sunrise Reaper took a detour to Beowulf’s medical bay. Not any bigger than a stateroom, it had a bed, a chair, and a table that was hinged to the wall. A patient lay in the bed, with another man hovering over him. Dressed in dark pants with a stained, white t-shirt, the man was something of a sight, especially with two revolvers jammed in his waistband.

“You must be Broccoli. My name is Major Codix, call-sign Reaper.” Reaper extended his hand and nodded to the patient. “How’s he doing?”

Broccoli shook hands, and then turned his attention back to the patient.

“He’s been better, that’s for sure. When the turret exploded, he was a ball of fire. We were able to extinguish the flames pretty quickly… and the jumpsuits the crew wear are made of a fire-retardant blend of Nomex and Kevlar, so that offered him some protection. But the exposed portions of his body are burned pretty badly. I know time was of the essence, but a vacc suit would have offered better protection.

“Anyway, we have a spray-on bandage that will help form a second skin, and I’ve given him something for the pain. He’s out of the woods, but recovery’s going to be a while.”

“Can he hear us?”

“Probably. He’s in and out.”

“Well, Yalla… as a combat veteran myself, I’m here to tell you that you’re one tough SOB. You’ll end up with some scars, but that’s OK. The girls love them.”

“He’s got that right. Scars are tattoos with stories.”

Yalla didn’t say anything, but feebly raised a thumb’s up. But it lasted only a moment before he put his hand down. Then his body relaxed as he passed out.

“Maybe suspended animation wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“It’s certainly a serious consideration. However, Jerome, our engineer, is worried about the power plant. It took some damage as well when the engines were hit. He’s concerned about a brown-out. We’re thinking of waking the passenger we already have in cold sleep just to be on the safe side. The low berths have a power back-up, but it doesn’t last indefinitely.”

“Well, it looks like Yalla is in good hands. Take care.”

“Major… hey… I’m just curious… are you going after those bastards that did this?”

“That decision is not completely up to me, but I’m not one to back down from a fight. As far as I’m concerned, your attackers have a debt to settle.”

“If you do… you mind if I tag along? I’m pretty good in a fight.”

Reaper shrugged. “Sure. I’ll ask around. I’ll let you know what the others say.”

“If it helps, you might mention I’m a pretty good cook.”

 

[ManOfGrey]

Reaper entered the bridge and plopped down in the navigator’s seat.

“Hey there, Glare-Bear… still right where I left ‘ya?”

Khat shot him a glance from the pilot’s seat. She couldn’t help it.

“What?”

“Well, since you are dutifully minding your station, I was wondering if you might help me with a little project to pass the time.”

“Really?”

“Really. You see my current direction of thought is that perhaps one of the passengers has been 'replaced' by a pirate and we may be able to uncover this if we can hack the Imperiallines’ database on Laairer. It's only a few light-minutes away.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that illegal.”

“Only a little. We are investigating a pirate attack on a civilian ship. This is for King and Country.”

“So what’s in it for me?”

“Bringing criminals to justice isn’t enough? These people were ruthlessly attacked. People were hurt… badly.”

Glare-bear continued to earn her new pseudonym.

“And, in addition, I would certainly be willing to put in a good word at your parole hearing. I am a Major in the Imperial Marines. That might add a little clout to getting you out of that anklet.”

Khat looked skeptical. “Fine. (sigh) Let me have a look.”

A minute later Khat glanced over her shoulder to find Reaper staring over it. She quickly gave him a hard elbow in the ribs… and immediately regretted it. Khat, next time you elbow someone in the ribs, make sure they’ve taken off their battle armor first! Ow! I’m lucky I didn’t break my elbow. Try that again, and I’d probably tear a bicep.

Still, she wasn’t keen on teaching a newbie the ropes of her hacking skills, by any means.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help. Isn’t that a backdoor?” Reaper said pointing at the screen over her shoulder.

“Great, if you want to ‘help,’ go do it at your station. I’ll send you the screen.

“You know, it’s probably going to take an hour for us to get a response.”

“That’s OK. I’m not paid by the hour. But since we’re waiting anyway, what would you think if we got a new cook?

 

[ManOfGrey]

“Hey, hey… here we go. Looks like your little worm program did the trick. We’re receiving data.”

“Yep. And it looks like everyone checks out. All six passengers match employee records with both names and photos.”

“Hold on. Wait-a-minute. There does seem to be a small discrepancy between Imperallines’ personnel records and Beowulf's manifest. According to the computer on Laairer, one passenger, Andrea Simmons, is listed to continue on to Idmum. But there is no record that she is booked to continue in Beowulf's passenger list. Khat, are you seeing the same discrepancy as I am?"

“I sure am. Anything noticeably squirrelly about this one so far?”

“Nothing that immediately stood out, but I sure as shootin' wanna get to the bottom of this one."

With that, Reaper stood up and headed toward the Beowulf once more, sending a quick message direct to the captain of the Beowulf. "Are all passengers still in their berths, Captain?"

"If they're not, then they're probably in the common room."

"Roger that, Captain. Can you meet me at the umbilical please, and make sure that your bridge crew are armed just in case? We need to check something out." Reaper quickly headed back through the umbilical to the Beowulf and unslung his rifle, while ensuring that a round was chambered.

The captain replied immediately. "Certainly. Is there a problem?"

"I am not sure at this point, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. I will explain more when I see you."

Sending a quick encrypted comm, Reaper continued, saying “Carmen, I need you to secure a firearm and stand guard at the umbilical. I am checking something out and need to ensure that the Nymeria Sunrise is protected. Over."

 

[ManOfGrey]

The captain herself met Reaper at the airlock, with a revolver holstered at her side.

Reaper nodded at the captain and said, "I don't quite know if there is anything to worry about, but I would be happier if we can confirm my suspicions. One passenger is showing a strange discrepancy in her passenger manifest. Andrea Simmons is listed to go on to Idmum, but she is not booked on your vessel."

Reaper began to walk with the captain to the common room and continued, "It could be nothing, but wouldn't you rather inconvenience a passenger for a few minutes of questioning than have that same person be a mole in your vessel?"

"A mole? You think she was working with those pirates?" The captain stopped to think for a moment. "If so, she sure picked a dangerous way to go about business. Everyone aboard was in danger of being killed as we were taking fire."

"It isn't that I think she is a mole, it is more that I don't want to leave any possibility of you and your family coming into any more danger."

"Amen to that!"

As Reaper walked into the common room he could see Andrea Simmons sitting at a table alone, having a cup of tea. The three of them were the only ones in the room. Everyone else must have been in their cabins.

Reaper leaned over to the captain and whispered, "Can you secure the hatch please? We don't need any interruptions at the moment. I am going to grab a glass of water and join her. Join us when you are ready." He then removed his helmet before he grabbed a clean glass and filled it with water before heading over to the table Andrea Simmons was seated at.

Reaper looked at her and asked, "Miss Simmons? Mind if I join you?"

"Please do... aaaaa... Major? I assume your timely arrival is to thank for our rescue from an uncertain fate. Thank you."

With a friendly smile, Reaper responded, "Yes, Major is correct, my name is Andere Codix, but please, call me Reaper. I know it seems odd, but I am more used to responding to my call-sign than to my own name."

Reaper took a sip of his water and resumed speaking, "No need to thank me, just doing my job, ma'am. I am just glad that the Nymeria Sunrise arrived in time. You all looked to be in a bit of a sticky situation."

"To say the least! It was getting pretty hairy there for a minute. I thought we were all going to go down with the ship."

"I am glad that did not happen. Your captain and her crew deserve a lot of credit though. Their decision to make the descent into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant is what really saved your bacon. Those pirates couldn't follow after."

Reaper took another sip of water and said, "I was wondering, what is it that you do for Imperiallines that brings you all the way out here?"

"I'm a broker. I explore new trade opportunities for Imperiallines." She laughed nervously. "Although this is first time I've ever been shot at doing so. Maybe I should consider a new direction for my career."

Reaper chuckled for a moment and then responded, "Well, sometimes the danger can make things more lucrative. But I completely understand what you mean. Are you going to be staying at Laairer for a while? The Nymeria Sunrise will be here for a bit, and will be back and forth scouting nearby systems, and I am certain that we will be in need of some supplies that a broker can procure for us."

"Certainly. After all your help, it's the least we can do. I wasn't scheduled to leave Laairer until the Beowulf swung back though the system six weeks from now. But considering all that's happened in the last few hours, I'm not sure how the attack will impact the Beowulf's regular run. Clearly she needs repairs. I may be marooned in-system for the foreseeable future.

"And, by the way, Captain... speaking of procurement... once Beowulf can get to our station around Laairer, I will do all I can to insure Imperiallines will supply any parts you need for those repairs. I'm just happy to make it through this whole ordeal in one piece."

Reaper looks at Andrea and says, "I am completely sure that the captain will be happy to accept any help from you and your employer on recouping for the necessary repairs on the Beowulf, Miss Simmons. The Nymeria Sunrise will be here for a while longer making sure that there are no loose ends that need to be tied off. The Captain has asked if we would be able to help deliver you and the other passengers to Laairer while they continue making repairs and wait for the recovery vessel."

Taking another drink of water he continued, "I have to converse with the rest of the crew of the Nymeria Sunrise before we can make that decision, but we will get back to you as soon as we can. The ISS works a bit differently than the Sylean Navy, so we have to come to an agreement on these matters. I would like to ask though, if you or any of the other passengers know how to help get some of the Beowulf's systems back online, then please try to do so to expedite their repairs."

“That is a great idea, Major. Myself non-withstanding, the rest of the Imperiallines crew are technicians being flown out to work on a space station. Turn them loose, and the Beowulf will be flying again in no time.

Standing up from the table he finished his water and picked up his helmet before inclining his head to Andrea and saying, "That you. Stay safe, Miss Simmons. You will hear back from us shortly." He turned and headed to the Captain, giving her a slight nod and whispering, "All Clear, Captain."

The captain replied with a nod and a knowing smile.