Adventures in Sirus

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.1

Ships Log, Rogue 15 recording. Date stamping... now.

We have rescued Goldie from the institution on Pittsburg. I can see now why the Liberty Police built that place on such a God-forsaken hole in space. So close to the heart of it all, and yet a galaxy away. But after all that´s happened, I think I might be wishing they had built the Institution in Alaska. Because Nothing would have made me go back there again. Preytor did think it was a good idea to get Goldie out, and I guess we couldn't have let him rot, regardless. But he has already cost me everything I had in personal profit on this jaunt. He freakin' played Iron Chef with my cardamine. And smoked the remains! If he didn't need to be in a loony bin before, he´s gonna need to be in one soon. At this point, all I need to do is get Goldie to one of his ships stashed in New York, where ever he left it. But he is in no position to remember his name, let alone the access codes. Then maybe I can get Ageira to throw some gatelane parts my way, so I can recoup my losses. I can't believe...

"Hawkins! Will you shut up and help me get this hatch open? I don't want to rip it out of the frame."

"Look, Prey... can you just finish suckin up all these blobs of beer so I can turn the gravity back on? We will worry about the door later."

Yeah, but I don't hear nuthin back there."

"And this is a bad thing?"

"If he jammed the door, how we gonna get him out?"

I pointed to the Emergency Hatch release again.

"We don't want to kill him, just want to get in there."

"Look, I'll head to Denver, we'll blow the hatch on re-entry. The pressure will rip it away from the ship, and by the time we land, it will all be OK."

1.1

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.2

Preytor quivered violently in restrained frustration for a moment.

"Why don't you just use your ship to ship transporter to move us to your eagle, 15?"

"Do you see the ship to ship transporter?"

Preytor looked around the small cabin. The sliced upholstery still smoked slightly where the large clean gashes stood out like wounds on a carcass. A communications panel sparked from a large vertical hole. Tantalizing golden globes of liquid floated here and there, waiting to be consumed. Chaos in a cockpit.

"Ok, you got me. Where is it?"

I thumbed backwards towards the jammed door to the hold. "This is a freighter cab. We don't have modern conveniences like transporters and bathrooms up front. Or food replicators. Hell, I've only got 6 beers left in the cooling unit."

Preytor renewed his attempt at opening the door, vigorously pressing the release button and tugging at the frame. A frightening creak rewarded him, spurring him on to more frantic pulling. "Only a six pack left? Are you insane? I thought you had planned this thing better?"

1.2

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.3

It was all quickly going downhill. Then again, that was Situation Normal... All Frelled Up.

"I smell something burning."

"Prey, that's my chair."

"No, something else. I know what burned upholstry smells like."

I glanced around the cockpit. "Then it's the system com panel." The shockwave of silence forced me to look back at Preytor. Even with his helmet on I could see the raised eyebrow.

"I'm telling you, something is burning."

"It'll keep. I got to get us somewhere we won't be arrested upon landing." I turned back to my tasks at hand.

"Hawk, you are going to buy another ship."

I looked up from the nav panel, half-way through entering coordinates for the Colorado gate. I had just overhauled this freighter. "I am?"

With barely a flex, and almost no other sign of visible effort, Preytor shoved the pressure door back toward the cargo bay. It creaked, hung for a moment, and floated away into the hold. The cabin immediately filled with familiar, milky smoke.

"Crap. This can't be good." I reached under my seat for an OxyMask, knowing this was not the time to get high on Cardamine.

Prey stepped into the hold, magnetic boots ringing on the floor. Through the twisted hatch I could see the bodies of a few of the Heavobeasts. From my angle of view, it looked like the fire was in the middle of the hold.

"By Crete! He started a frelling camp fire out of cardamine! And he was roasting Heavobeast. Has he no taste? And he's not even... wait... Hawk, we have trouble. Check your Oxygen generators."

I pulled up the display, only to see all three working at max capacity. Looking around, I could see a slight current to the smoke. It swirled with motion that was not caused by Preytor's activity. Preytor stuck his head back through the hatch. In unison he and I both said "He pierced the hull."

"Well, the smoke should make it easy to find."

Preytor bounded back and forth about the hold for a moment. "How many pressure patches do you have on board?"

"There should be a box near the transport com panel."

He vanished from my view for a moment. A crashing sound followed. "Hey! Be careful back there."

"I told you, you are selling this ship!"

1.3

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.4

My vision began to get fuzzier. Was my mask leaking? I was NOT in the mood for drug induced unconsciousness. Looking around, I noted the lack of dizziness. Then it hit me. The smoke was getting thicker. Preytor had patched the holes. "Can you do something about the fire? It's getting hard to see up here."

More crashing sounds. "Use the fire extinguisher." Everything went silent for a moment, followed by boots ringing on the deck. The whoosh of the foam canister sounded abnormally loud, but I was more worried about where he would throw the empty canister. There was no way Preytor was happy about how this went.

"Screw Colorado. Head for Rochester."

"You do realize the scrubbers are toast. This smoke is not going to clear." Preytor grabbed my chin and turned my head to face him. I could just barely see through the eye shields in his helmet, and it was clear that his eyes had been tearing up. His combat shield was not a sealed mask after all. "Ok, so you know the smoke isn't clearing. Rochester it is. How you feeling?"

"I've got about twenty minutes of useable brain power before I am high as a kite, 15. How do you think I'm doing? Shall I remove your mask to even things out?"

I couldn't help but laugh. He let go of my chin and punched me in the shoulder, more than likely leaving a nasty bruise. It felt like I was going to feel that one for days. "You want to make sure GH..." He cut me off with a wave of his hand. I shrugged, winced, and punched in the coordinates for Rochester.

"What the hell ever made you buy a Rhino anyway?"

"It was cheap, it was available, and I was broke. Did I mention it was cheap?"

The cruise engines kicked in, and we were soon dodging debris on the way to the Junker base, Rochester. Preytor sat breathing heavily, gripping the arm rests tightly. "Man, you should just hold your breath. That Can't be good for you."

"If I'm gonna get frelled up, I might as well get frelled up."

Approaching the base, I sent a pirated IFF card signal, as Junkers were no friends of mine. Too much bad blood in the past. Coming around to the back docking bay, I spotted something unusual. "Preytor, you see what I see?"

He leaned forward up close to the viewport. There, moored outside the base by the docking port was what appeared to be a standard LDP4. But we could both see the insignia emblazoned on the lower stabilizer. Preytor turned to look at me, as I turned to him.

"He's dead."

"That was never proven, Hawk."

"That ship was lost in Tau31. Everybody saw the fire in the cockpit. Everyone heard the crew dying on the radio. No way Captain Cross survived."

"I wonder why they brought it all the way back here... for salvage?" Preytor shook his head to clear it.

I smiled. "I wonder if they are selling it?"

1.4

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.5

After leaving the Rhino smoking in the docking bay, Preytor and I stumbled out to the turbo shaft up to the bar. I needed information about that LDP4, fast. I had no idea if the Junkers, a normally superstitious lot, had gone over that ship with a fine-toothed comb, or if it had been hauled down here to be sold at auction for the LibPols to put on display in on Manhattan. They WOULD want to make a show of that carcass.

"Aww man... the colors. The colors."

We were lucky that Rochester had been our destination, for being in a cardamine stupor was nothing new for these spacers to see. Not that they indulged themselves, mind you. But they dealt in the stuff. I was just worried about how much Preytor had sucked into his lungs. He was likely to start giving away money.

"Are we moving, Hawk?"

In fact, the turboshaft had just stopped. I was so lost in hope, I hadn't paid attention. "Nope. We are here. You gonna drink something, or you just wanna hang out for a second?"

"I'm all set right here man."

"I can't just leave you on the shaft. Someone is gonna want to use it eventually."

"It's ok. I'll be their elevator boy. You go find some vegetables and a cat or two. I'll be alright."

I couldn't tell if he was hungry or just really that far gone. I honestly didn't know all that much about Preytor, or his eating habits. Entering the bar, I went straight to the first Junker I saw. "Hi."

"Hey there freelancer. Haven't seen you around. You new here?"

"Uhh, yeah."

"Well we're the Junkers. We own this base. I don't know you. Let me see your card."

I gave him the pirated IFF card. He looked it over and looked me up and down.

"I guess you're alright. What can I do for you today?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Well... we recently picked up an interesting piece of salvage. In the hands of the right salesman, someone could make a good profit. You might do well to sell it directly on Manhattan if you are of a mind to."

He handed me an info card. $25,000 credits! Holy shit! They had no idea what was tethered to their base. It was all I could do to keep from shouting, crying, dropping the info card, and hugging the guy. All I could hear in my head was the little voice of my conscience whooping for joy. "Sounds good."

Beep Boop Beeeeeep!

Damn that paging system. Every time you made a deal, everyone on the base had to hear about it. It was the most insane credit transfer system, yet every base used it. At least the designers had the intelligence to have the waypoint information sent directly to your ship's navcomp. Announcing it over the loudspeakers would have been a direct invite to trouble. But I wasn't all that concerned. In this case, there were no waypoints. No one was gonna be following me anywhere.

I took the info card, trembling slightly in my hand and headed nonchalantly to the shaft. The turbocar, and Preytor were nowhere to be seen. I called up another, and wondered where I, if I was completely out of my mind on more high grade cardamine than a family could use in a week, would go. In search of something to eat, most likely.

I took the car to the trade bays, and sure enough, a worried trade master was standing credit chit in hand next to a frightening Preytor. My companion was tearing apart a cargo pod of synth paste divinate, the standard material replicators used to make the variety of food stuffs. It had a consistancy of clay. This was not deterring him in the least. I walked up to him and whispered near his ear. "I got it."

"MMph?"

I couldn't contain myself. I screamed. "I GOT IT! WOOOHOOO!"

"Mmfrh." His battlemask was pulled up, and thankfully his face was partially obscured by being covered with divinate.

"Umm.. have that delivered to the Rhino in bay 3."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." Preytor growled low for a moment as the trade master began to reach for the remains of the crate, then straightened. He adjusted his armor, wiped his face mostly clean with his hand and pulled the mask back in place. "Er... Yes. Have that delivered to the smoking hulk of a crap pile in bay 3. Good divinate, by the way. You should be proud."

"You feel better now?" I was torn between grinning like an idiot and being worried.

"Absolutely. I'm good to go for another thirty minutes at least. Of course, I'll crash after that. This is some good cardamine, by the way. Malta?"

I barely heard him. We reached the turboshaft, and my hands shook as I punched in the shipmaster at the docking bay. I knew they were going to change their mind, and go back on the deal. Or this info card was fake. Or my IFF was going to be recognized. Or there would be an Outcast that would recognize me around the next corner. Something was gonna screw the pooch for me.

At the ship master's desk, I handed him the info card. He gave it a look, and punched up the info for my Rhino. "You got some interesting damage here. Gonna cost extra to dispose of those bodies. You want I should install those weapons crates too?"

"NO... er.. no. I'll handle the weapons crates myself." No way I was gonna let these Junkers handle my Crays. I just hoped they wouldn't notice they weighed more than the Punishers they were tagged as. "And the human body, isn't a corpse. It goes on the LDP4."

"I can give you some credit on the remains of the Cardamine, but not much."

"Yeah, yeah.. whatever. Can we get this going?"

"You in some kind of rush, son?"

That stopped me. I was way too eager. Think, Hawkinz... Think... "My friend here... he was in the hold with most of that card when it was burning." Truth never hurt anyone. "And he's not gonna remain standing for long. I think he's gonna be sick, actually." That hit a nerve. This guy didn't want to have to clean up some spacer's vomit.

"Ok. Well, with your trades, that's $23700."

I reached into my pocket. Nothing. DAMNIT ALL TO HELL GH!!!!! All my profit. All my credits. Up in smoke. "Preytor. I need money."

"Hmm? Money? How much?"

"$24k."

Preytor stepped up to the man, divinate still slightly encrusting the edge of his mask. "You want $24k?"

The shipmaster eyed him warily, then switched to a pair of fearful eyes very quickly. "Uhh.. yep. $23700 actually. Well... $21000 really."

Preytor shrugged. "Ok." and dropped a credit chit on the counter.

The man nervously passed it through the scanner automatically setting it up for deduction. "Actually, I'm only taking $20500, since that Rhino's damage isn't really combat related."

Sometimes it really pays to have a friend scary enough to win a fight without ever swinging a punch.

Back at the Rhino, I gathered the remains of my bedroll and clothing kit, grabbed the six-pack in the front cooler, and pulled Preytor into the cargo hold. We took the ship to ship transporter to the LDP4. I held my breath upon arrival, but there was no acrid smell of smoke or burned flesh. There were no signs of fire, in the mess or crew quarters as we passed through them. I took a quick look in the cargo hold, saw my weapons crates, and noticed it was as clean as a whistle. Preytor continued on down the hall, stopping at the first cabin. With a kick the door was open, and he was falling over the threshold to hopefully land on a bunk. I'd let him sleep. I hesitated at the door to the bridge. What gruesome sight awaited me?

The door slid open on it's pneumatics to a dimly lit, but spotless interior. It was not only damage free, but it was cherry! Every flat surface without a control was upholstered in leather! The seats! The sides of panels! The beer can holders! The control stick was wrapped in leather. All dark browns and blacks. It took me a minute to realize they had dumped Goldie in the communication's seat. The frelling bathroom door was covered in leather. Gods, I could bounce around this room in Zero G and love every second of it. I gingerly slid into the pilot's seat. It felt like orgasmic butter. Like a glove. The seat cradled me, calling... wriggle in me.. wriggle in me... so I wriggled in it. Everything was too perfect. Wait. Would she even start?

1.5

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.6

Hours later, I realized I had no idea if she would fly... because I had no idea how to start the beast. All the controls were black. Not un-powered. Black. Black buttons. Black switches. Black panels surrounded by more black buttons. What wasn't black, was dark grey. Ok, un-powered and black. Frelling insanity.

The bridge was quite spacious for a ship of this size. At least the replicator was easy to find. It was right next to the bathroom. So several beers later I was quite comfortable in my cluelessness as to how to use my new ship. Back in the pilot seat having my backside caressed, I renewed pouring over the controls. At least Goldie was still comatose. Thank the maker for small blessings. Who would design a ship like this? Was it something Captain Cross had done custom, or were they all like this?

Grabbing fistfulls of hair in frustration, I leaned back and gritted my teeth. "I need a frelling manual!"

Bing!

A light warmed over my chair. With a welcome whir, a swing panel smoothly arced down from the ceiling and stopped at eye level. The black panel lit softly revealing some navigation touchscreen buttons, and a few words of text.

LDP4 Marine Dropship Revision 4d.

Military? I thumbed forward through the table of contents and stopped at the first page of content.

**Warning. Voice Activated Help system is the only voice activated system on board. Accidentally using the word "manual" outloud may result in impared vision and movement during battle conditions. See appendix C for options regarding disabling this system. Caution. Disabling Voice Activated Help system may result in failure to access this system in times of need, resulting in a necessary hard boot of Macro Advanced Operating System. See appendix F for options regarding hard booting of Macro Advanced Operating System. Welcome to the LDP4 proprietary MAOS.**

...The hell? Military. If nothing else, the manual was detailed. I proceeded to dive in, speed reading it all, soaking in as much as I could. Right off the bat, I found I would have to forget with taking the sections in order. The system needed a hard boot. Up to the appendix F.

**To Hard boot the MAOS, remove the booting stylus from it's clip and insert into the boot cavity, located 4 inches below and 4 inches to the left of the upper hinge on the door to the head. Upon feeling resistance, press with adequate, but not undue force until such resistance has abated. Hold for 5 seconds. If hard boot has not commenced, remove stylus, open and close the door to the head to reset the internal catch inside the boot cavity and repeat procedure.**

...What moron devised this system.. and where was this boot stylus? I slid from the chair, and moved to the bathroom door, feeling around the hinge for the hole. Sure enough, it was there. And it was about the size of a pen. So, taking my trusty zero-g pen from it's protected pocket, I jammed it in the hole. There may have been a little resistance, but I wasn't really in the mood to play nice.

One.. two... three...

20 seconds later, Every light and panel on the bridge flashed. Then flashed again. Success! Each display panel lit softly, from the com station to the pilot's chair. Rushing back to my seat, I smacked my head on the help display. Silently cursing everything I could think of, I flipped angrily to appendix C, read the instructions carefully, and found the indicated pair of soft buttons on the underside of the help panel. It slid softly and silently back into its place. Calling up status displays, my joy quickly turned to despair. I had no power generator. At least, the power I was running on was from storage reserves. I wasn't going to solve this problem from here. All the indicators said I was missing a power supply.

I turned around, momentarily shocked to see Preytor standing in the doorway.

"Sweet Cockpit. Better than the fabric you had put on your last one."

"Prey, you have no idea what I have been going through."

"Yeah, but you have no idea what I found in the back. Come take a look."

It seemed Preytor had been busy while I had been pulling my hair out. There were empty food packets all over crew table in the mess. Every locker was open, and what few contents they had contained were strewn on the floor. Half a case of empty beer cans littered corners and underneath tables.

"Uurp.... yeah, not much in here worth while, but the replicator has got a crappy selection. Some kind of standard rations."

"The manual indicates this was a Military Dropship at one time."

"That would explain it. But that doesn't explain these." He took me back into the hold, where I could see he had opened all my weapons crates and spread them around the hold. He had also pried up several floor panels. From the resulting holes in the floor, a silver light was emanating. He swung an arm wide over my weapons. "Liberty CRAYs? I thought you had more exotic tastes, Hawk."

"Hey... they work well, and are surprisingly potent. What's with tearing up the place?"

"I smelled something, and found the locked storage compartments. Well, they WERE locked at any rate. But it is what was in them that I think you should see."

He led me over, and inside were two open square metal boxes. Inside each box was a glowing silver globe. After my eyes adjusted, I could see standard couplers on either end. Power couplers.

"What are they?"

He looked me up and down, looked back at the globes, and shrugged. "From the design and cabling ends, I'd say batteries, or power supplies. But like none I've ever seen. They aren't even Nomad. These are something either very new, or very old."

"By coincidence, we are missing a power supply. You don't think..." I could tell he was grinning by the way his shoulders suddenly flew back that he might have been laughing to himself. Damn that mask.

"Oh, I do think," he said, "I think right now. Where do we plug these babies in?"

1.6

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.7

One frantic scramble and several shifted panels later, Preytor and I were staring at the crispy remains of a standard G14 Powerboy civilian power supply. All the connections were standard style couplers, but the unit itself had been burnt out long ago. Burnt out, set on fire, and melted with a blowtorch, apparently.

"Think we should fire it up?" Preytor hit me on my other shoulder, creating a matching bruise on that side. "Or has it been fired up one too many times?"

Sigh. "There are two of those globes over there." We were still in the hold. Our search had taken us all over the interior of the ship and had eventually led us back to a wall panel not 5 feet from the storage compartment that held the orbs. "Only one of them is going to hook up here."

"They are your balls Hawk. Which one you gonna play with first?"

Sigh. I was tired, he was refreshed. This day just kept getting longer. "One is as good as another. They both appear to be the same. So closest is best." I moved over to the hole in the floor. "You disconnect the junk, I'll get the thing."

Gingerly reaching into the hole, I took hold of each side of the box holding one of the silver globes. Expecting it to be heavy, I was surprised and almost lost my balance lifting it. It weighted nothing more than packing material. As I moved it away from it's identical twin, the glow diminished significantly. Noticing this, I swing it back toward it's mate. The glow increased. Once again being torn between elation and fear, I mentally shrugged off the phenomenon and put the globe on the floor next to the power hatch.

"This thing is going to fall apart if I wrestle with it too much."

"I don't know where the broom is yet, so you might want to be careful."

Shooting what I suspected was a dirty look over his shoulder at me, Preytor finished disconnecting a coupler. Looking around, he spotted and picked up one of the lids to the packing crates my CRAYs had come in. Gingerly tilting the battered power unit backwards, he slid the lid underneath it just in time for the portion under his hand to crumble. The power generator dropped with a thud, scattering charred remains in every direction.

"Meh. Just open the hatch when the hold is empty. Use Nature's vacuum." He shrugged.

He gave the lid a tug and a push, completely removing the junk unit from the cavity. I lifted the globe from the box, and connected the cables. Each fit perfectly, and no couplers were left unconnected. For a moment, Preytor and I stood and stared, expectant. Slowly, the lights in the cargo hold began to get brighter. neither of us had realized just how dark it had been by the time the light level evened off. I blinked, readjusting to the omnidirectional molecularfilament bulbs. Even in full light, the hold didn't look to be in bad shape. It had an air of use to it, small nicks and dents on most surfaces. But it did appear to be well cared for.

"Well? You gonna go kick this lady in the pants?"

Feeling drained, my shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yeah. Big deal we just hooked some alien artifact into a decommissioned military vessel from an era that died off long ago. What's the worst that can happen. We blow up, right?" I think I stumped Preytor. He hadn't really considered it. "You know, if it works, and it has any nice side effects, the beauty of you finding two of them means you get to have one. Which reminds me. You are going to need a ship too, eventually."

Preytor took my shoulder under his hand, once again reminding me not only of his strength, but of where he had hit me before. The pressure he applied let me know in no uncertain terms I was to begin moving in the direction he indicated. I complied. "I've been thinking about that. A lot. Quite a lot, actually. I might just take that Eagle you have stored somewhere."

"Yeah, Prey... about that Eagle. It is sitting in Unioner docking bay at the moment."

"You hate Unioners! More importantly, they hate you."

"Long story short, it is part of how I ended up broke in a Rhino. I did find out the limit of forged Idents tho."

We crossed through the crew mess. I looked around. "You gonna clean this place up?"

He shook his head. "Why? It's a mess, isn't it?"

I lacked the strength to groan. Entering the bridge, we both noticed immediately that Goldie was no longer unconscious. He was, in fact, wearing the HoloCom headset, deeply engrossed in some conversation. He appeared to be beyond the point of noticing us. But as he was using lipspeak, the standard form of noiseless HoloCom communication, neither of us knew what he was talking about. I shrugged, and Prey shrugged as he took the copilots chair. Activating the Replicator, I called up 4 beers, and gave 2 to Preytor. Taking my comfy seat, I began to buzz through the control panels, adjusting the brightnesses and angle displays. With power, all of the black controls now had lit indicators as to function for fixed controls, and all panels included a basic menu setup. It was all quite intuitive actually.

I punched the release for the mooring cable, flipped the switch to open the system channel, and swung her out away from Rochester. She handled a little slowly, but otherwise very smoothly. I reached over to the NavComp, and punched in Pueblo Station in Colorado.

Puzzled, Prey shot me a sideways glance. "Why Pueblo?"

"You want to dock somewhere in this system with a wanted, escaped lunatic? At least on Pueblo, he can't do much damage. Ageira love me."

1.7

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.8

(Written by Preytor, thus the differences in style)

"Hmmm, ok good point."

Now slowly moving away from Rochester station, with a gorgeous view of Manhattan to our right, we were wondering who was GH talking to and how long. Preytor looked at Hawkins with a what's-with-him shrug thumbing back to GH.

Hawkings said, "dunno". And pointed to a display panel at the back right side of the cockpit room, three feet in from the hatch. Preytor unsure of what he was getting at walked over the the display. It was a general systems control center. You could bring up different aspects of the ship; Engines, Weps, shield, hull, power system, stabilizers etc. Preytor routed it through to GH's Lipspeak helmet to see what's up. While doing this GH jolted for a second like something startled him, but he seemed fine. Preytor finally got logged in and saw that GH had it on mirror! He was sitting there just blabbing (lipspeaking) away to himself!!!

"Hawkins! We gotta do something, he worse than we thought! He has been talking to himself in that thing the whole time!"

"What do you mean??" Hawkins said with a disbelieved confused look.

"I mean he has the damm viewer on mirror! He watching himself talk to himself!"

Oh dear, Hawkins thought. "That cardamine really did some damage. Hmmm, I know what we gotta do, just keep him in check till we get to pueblo k Preytor"

"Him? Bah, no problem!"

It took us a while to reach the Colorado Jump Gate at cruise, but we finally got there with no delay. As soon as we entered the manufactured worm hole though, GH started going crazy! Doing the funky chicken, screaming stuff about cats and cardamine, Aliens, and Military and purple dasies!!

"PREYTOR Grab him!!!" Preytor went to reach for GH as GH still having the Vibroblade lashed out at Prey, making a deep cut into his face plate. Preytor stunned for a split second, then maneuvering to get a hold of GH, finally was able to restrain him after a lot of commotion from both of them. How was GH able to put up such a fight? I've heard of people have extreme personal strength and no sense of pain when under the influence of cardamine but this was ridiculous!

Just after clearing the worm hole there was a patrol of LSF going by! What the heck are they doing here? wondered Hawkins. Hawkins tried to see if he could pick up their coms. He over heard them speaking of some escaped loonie, and that he has important information and is very dangerous.

"What's going on out there?", Preytor said walking back to the cockpit.

While turning to look at Preytor Hawkins said, "There's some LSF out here and I know they're looking for GH". Before he could finish his sentence, Preytor hit the floor, denting two of the floor panels. While Preytor laying distraught face down on the floor, there was some light emanating from underneath him. Hawkins rolled him over to find a bunch of thick, green glowing liquid exiting Preytors abdomen and chest. "Frell! Prey, you're injured!!" It looked as if GH's Vibroblade was still working wonderfully.

There was huge banging and slaming ringing down the corridor, eminating from one of the two locked crew quarters.GH was yelling, "COME BACK HERE MOFO!!! I'LL RIP THOSE FREAKN' DREADS OUT OR WHAT EVER THEY ARE YOU FREAK!!!! GIVE ME BACK ME DASIES!!!" Preytor was able to point to something strapped to his leg. He touch three buttons, some gas came outta the thing and it unfolded itself to reveal, well what looked like some weird tools. Preytor then handed this kit to Hawkins and pointed at his wounds, his hand then fell to the floor...

1.8

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.9

Hawkins started at the kit in his hand. The pounding in the corridor was getting louder, more frantic. He looked at Preytor prone and bleeding on the floor. He looked again to the kit, and back to his friend.

"You Freaks have no right to do this to me again! Gimme back my pointy thing!"

I know. I'll just close the bridge internal hatch, and expose the rest of the ship to space. That's the ticket. Yeah. Then his blood will boil and bubble, and he'll freeze and go all dead dead deadski inside. I shook my head, realizing I was allowing myself to be driven temporarily insane by external temporary insanity. An odd temporal instance of tempestuousness intact in temples inside the of the mind. Or some bad instant tempura.

If Goldie still had his vibrablade, that small room wasn't going to hold him. I could not assume his asking for it did not mean he had forgotten it was still in his hand. I had to work quickly. Preytor's medkit expanded revealing an odd assortment of tools. Unlike my ship however, it did not appear to come with an Owner's Manual. Neither did Preytor. There was an injector, several ampules that looked like they would fit inside it, clamps, assorted vicious implements, a collapseable mixing bowl with miniature flame throwers, and some very unusual chemicals. This really looked more like a repair kit than a med kit. Find the wound. Ok. Clamp. Ok. Insert Ampule A into Injector B. Ok. Insert Injector B into flesh C. Ok... Now what? No laser sealer.. not even sutures. Maybe some of these chemicals worked like glue. But what was the heating gizmo for?

Screw this. I stood, moved out into the corridor and gave the shaking door a long stare. Then, moving among the scattered contents of the lockers, I gathered as much of the old uniforms and clothing as looked clean and in good condition. Leaving it in a pile on the table, I moved back into the hold, in search of the Hullbreach packs. There, next to the secondary STS (ship to ship) was a pair of lockers, each filled to the vents with all three standard hullbreach packs. Liquid Aluminum, StayPuft plugs, and the much more expensive SeekerNites (nanites that when released would seek out holes and construct temporary patches). The Liquid Aluminum was what I was hoping for. Once released from it's suspension squeeze tube, it would flow and harden into study, guaranteed crack-free aluminum patch (or your money back in 9 systems).

Back at Preytor's side, the pool of luminescent blood had not gotten any bigger. That crap had better not stain the floor, I thought to myself. So the clamp appeared to be doing it's job. I just knew I couldn't leave it on there. I began to tear the jumpsuits and shirts into long strips to use as bandages. Once I had a good sized pile, I removed the clamp. Green glowing blood began to flow again. Popping the cap off a tube of LiAl, I applied a generous amount all over the wound, using the flat end to spread it around a little. Sure enough, it filled in, flowed over, and began to harden nicely. Not wanting to lose the momentum, I propped Prey up, and used the longest strips to wrap around Preytor's torso, holding the metal patch in place. What the hell. Can't have too many wraps can you? I used the rest, and knotted it tightly when I was through. Then as an after thought, I uncapped the second tube, and applied a generous portion of LiAl to the knot, just in case it wanted to work loose. Nothing like encasing it in metal to keep it sound.

"Freelancer Alpha dash niner. This is Liberty Patrol Delta two fiver. We read your position has having remained unchanged outside the colorado jumpgate. All traffic must keep moving as not to pose a flight hazard. Are you in need of assistance?"

I had totally forgotten we were sitting dead in space, after exiting the gate. Lucky no transport had rammed us on auto pilot. I dove for the pilot's com panel. "Liberty Patrol Delta, We're fine here. We're all fine here... how are you?" Damn. Stupid.

"Freelancer Alpha dash niner, transmit your IFF card code for verification."

"No need for that. Minor reactor leak. Situation is all taken care of now. We'll be on our way." And me without any weapons mounted. I've never been adverse to getting rid of a few nosy cops before, but that was when I actually could.

"Stand by Freelancer. Commencing cargo and vessel scan now."

Great. All they needed was to detect the those two artifacts. I patted Preytor on the helmet. "Sorry about this pal." Jumping into the pilot's seat, I kicked in the Order thruster and jammed the throttle all the way up. They couldn't catch me if I reached the trade lane, standard protocol prevented them from shooting the trade lane, and I had a second before their stock scanners would resolve the image. If I could get out of their range...

"We have a runner. Delta two four, Delta three one, commence pursuit." On hearing that, I dumped a trio of Rippers in my wake and just kept on straight toward the Tradelane to Pueblo. All I had to do was get to it in time, and I'd be in Pueblo before the flash from my mines died down.

GH had stopped banging on the door to the cabin he was locked in. That either meant he had gotten bored, or had gotten out. I could only plan for one of those eventualities, so I kicked the switch on my chair to close and lock the cockpit door. Ahead, Beautiful Pueblo station came into view, under one it's regular attack from Hackers.

Without a word of warning, my shields began to register hits as they turned their attention to me. Why is it hackers always assumed that us freelancers always had the goods? Damn the disruptors, full speed ahead. I kicked the thruster again, and zoomed right up to the docking bay door before requesting permission to Dock.

"This is Pueblo Station..."

"Jamie! It's Hawk, Open the frelling door!"

"Freelancer Alpha dash niner, transit IFF..."

"JAMIE! Open the frelling door or I'm going to shove my way in!"

The docking bay began to open. "You are gonna cost me my job one of these days Hawkinz. We have procedures, you know."

I slid in on auto tractors, breathing a sigh of relief. "With all the money I've made for you guys, you practically work for me girl. Your job is very secure. Page Doc Albertson and have him meet me in the bay. I've got a few things he has to see."

1.9

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.10

(Written by SLA Liasion, thus the difference in style)

Watching silently from the nearby asteroid field, Liaison chuckled a silent chuckle to himself as he watched the forced landing. He 'waved' as the hackers passed him, although they really couldn't see him, still it was always a good thing to maintain a rep as neutral as possible. His ship was more neutral than the Zoners. It wasn't too hard when you had a backer like the SLA's, a few bribes here, a couple 'favours' given and taken, and you were dead even. Still, it was a bitter wave. The damned Hackers were suppose to have destroyed the station, and they let a 'freelancer' distract them. Help was so unreliable these days. It twas then that the first of a great number of surprises occurred, first, the transmission on a practically open, (Well not really, but it wasn't all that hard to make it open. Especially with a man on the inside.) frequency, The mention of the name, 'Hawk' did jolt him into a slightly ponderous silence as he thought back to days long gone by. Sighing out softly, he set his autopilot towards the station, (God he was so lazy) and let it do its thing. Ignoring the bright red seatbelt sign he stood up and headed towards the back of the ship, intent on getting himself something to drink, and of course, armed. In hindsight reaching into the fridge as your ship moved through an Asteroid field wasn't the brightest thing to do, but that wasn't on his mind then and there, and as his ship smoked the first asteroid he plummeted headfirst into his fridge, crushing and exploding a number and variety of Soda Drinks and Beers. Meanwhile his ship continued to spin around in a circle attempting to re-establish it's original course, and as his entire world turned upside down, he felt and saw the pop roll around the room. As his ship leveled out though, he noticed an increasing stench in the cockpit and noticed liquid leaving the lavatory. With an increasing queasiness he pulled out one of the smash soda cans, drained it as best he could, and then avoiding as much of the mess, (Although most of it was on him) He reached in, grabbed a pair of basic pistol type firearms, and left. Meanwhile his computer auto-transmitted the same codes which so freely allowed him access around the universe. Although the backroom was tighter than most, it was stench free, and it did have fresh clothes. Taking off his other clothes, -he didn't have time for a shower which wasn't a shower- he put on new ones, and then went back out front, this time looking every bit the presentable business man his card showed him to be. He waited as the ship set down, and with pressing of a couple buttons, some last commands, and a last sniff of disgust he popped the cockpit -much to the disgust of his neighbours- he set out to find his business and get it down. Then maybe he could leave this hell hole.

1.10

[{LNAW}Hawkinz]

1.11

My slightly wild piloting antics had been enough to send Preytor sliding across the cockpit, but as I shut down the Externals, I could hear him begin to stir. I thought to myself how that once again I was relieved he was a tough bastard. The standard Autoannounce system informed me that someone was at the cargo bay door, so without thinking I keyed the opening sequence, and flipped the unlock for the bridge. Scanning the controls to see if I had missed anything, I was satisfied enough that I was able to direct my concern to my comrade on the floor. He indeed appeared to be stirring, a low rumble ensuing from his chest. He was going to be alright.

I could hear people in the cargo area, so I stood and went to greet them. Jonas, the Trade master was gesturing to his asistants, but looked up as I approached.

"Hawkinz. Glad to see you, and your new freighter? Come to assist us in getting that tradelane through the Taus finished?"

"You got it. Listen, put things back in order for me here, will ya? Have Sully mount up these CRAY's, and load her up with 'Lane parts. It's gonna be on the cuff this time tho. You know I'm good for it."

He had turned his attention to the lone artifact in the floor cavity. "You know stuff like that is contraband. You aren't trying to find a buyer for that here, are you?"

"Actually, no. I have to have the Doc take a look at that. Is Alan Jones still in your Employ?"

Still looking at the globe, he nodded. "I don't think that boy is planning on moving on for quite a while. You need him to carry something somewhere?"

"No. I want you to Arm him and put him outside the ship. I can't take any chances. He knows me, he knows Preytor, he's not going to be fooled by anyone trying to gain entrance to the bay here, and he's the biggest damn human I have ever seen."

"I can do that. It will be a nice change of pace for him I think."

As he flipped his wristcom open, I reached into the floorspace and put the lid back on the box that held the globe. Pulling it from the cavity, I tucked it awkwardly under one arm and patted him on the shoulder. "Look, Preytor is injured and if he's not on his feet by now, he's still lying on the floor of my cockpit. Have one of the medlab boys give him a once over." I could see Doc Albertson outside of my cargo bay door. "And if possible, can you have someone clean up around here? We had a few... accidents."

He chuckled. "You have got to be one of the laziest slobs I know. I'll tack their wages and a little bonus onto your tab. Can they keep what they find?

"Actually, no." I moved to exit the bay. "And make sure these weapons lockers here are full too. Standard compliment. Sorry to do this to you, but I just got this ship and I'm still workin the kinks out."

Doctor William Albertson was a quantum physicist, antimatter specialist, and the lead researcher for the Gatelane projects for Ageira Technologies. He was also a man who loved to get his hands dirty. Rather than allow himself the freedom of a spacious laboratory on some comfortable planet surrounded by a nice safe atmosphere, he preferred to do his work here on Pueblo Station, the main manufacturing station for Gatelane Parts throughout Sirus. He also had a penchant for loose women, free beer, and singing old spiritual songs off key in public places, usually when there were loose women and free beer around. He saw me coming and had his hand waiting for me to shake. I did so vigorously.

"How ya doin Doc? Glad to see you."

He smiled widely. "Workin hard at keeping everything average. Change only seems to be good in small quantities. I see you got yourself a new ship. Where'd you find this old relic?"

I took him by the elbow, and began led him towards the turboshaft. "It's not so much where I found the ship, but rather what I found inside." I juggled the box slightly to catch his attention. "I need you to take a look at something."

1.11

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