After receiving word of the missing woman, I prepped my Hammerhead on New Berlin and set the course for Planet Denver to start the search. Five months is a long time, but I imagine I can unearth some trail, however faint. Somethign is oddly familiar about this girl... I can't place it, but I swear I've seen her before...
...there's something the S/D Agency isn't telling me. I can feel it. Why would they refuse the job? And why were they so vehement in disavowing knowledge of her? Something's going on here...
...anyways, jumping to Hamburg, will add more as things happen.
The huntress set down on Planet Denver and disembarked from her ship, smelling in the scent of desperate living.
God I hate Liberty... she thought to herself, looking around. First things first, she checked the dockworkers' area and asked around. Sadly, traffic was such that a single Train five months back was quickly forgotten, and without a name for the ship she wouldn't get far.
Next, she checked the bars, hole-in-the-wall hovels, and other, more reputable, eateries. It was in a bakery with a poster advertising the Bounty Hunter Guild that passing the picture around yielded a hit. The man spoke with a heavy Rheinland accent, and the smells wafting from the back of the building were damn tempting.
"Oh ja, I have seen such a voman."
Smiling, she asked when and what state she had been.
"Let me see... she was scared... unt nervous... she paid special attention to zat poster."
He seemed to be in deep thought, before shrugging and admitting that he had nothing more. However, Esther thanked him profusely and headed over to the local Guild recruitment office.
BEGIN LOG - S/D Agent Carly Denver
LOCATION: Sheffield Station, Manchester System
Sigh...
I feel like I'm so close. Like there's all these memories straining to get out, but there's just something in the way, and if I find that something, they'll all come rushing back. But try as I might, I just can't find that something. All I have is snatches, fragments...
Leeds. Leeds has something to do with it. Every time I go there, there's a weird feeling of knowing where everything is without having been there before. I remember it like the back of my hand, but in my mind I know I've only been there a few times.
Mammoth. I know that ship. It's a Liberty transport, yes, but I KNOW it. If you put me behind the wheel of a Mammoth I'd be able to fly it with no trouble.
Then there was the delirium accompanying my Synth Paste adventure. I saw and heard and felt all these strange things. A dirty brown globe. Maniacal laughter. Fresh air and green rolling fields. A dreadful tingling in my bones, constant, not stopping, just always there.
The globe is planet Leeds, I'm sure. The tingling... feels like radiation. It was there every time I visited Omega-41, that I know. The green rolling fields, that's Cambridge. I've been there a couple of times. But the laughter... I don't know. It's there still. Chilling, echoing in my ears.
Someone must be looking for me, surely. And I'd be able to find them... if I could just find myself.
The man behind the counter in the sterilized room with linoleum flooring and harsh lights looked at the picture sideways and disavowed ever seeing such a girl. He was old and his face was made of deep crags. His eyelids drooped and his gaze was plain. He was overweight from too much time off the hunt and too much time behind a desk.
It was rather obvious to Esther that he was lying between his teeth.
"Listen, a**hole," Esther said, leaning over the counter in a threatening manner. "I was hired cuz this girl has gone missing, and the leads point here. Now, tell me what is going on."
"She's missing?" he asked, slight surprise coming through his voice but not touching his facial features. "Well, I ain't seen her since she wandered in here confused as a hatchling. She had to think about her name before she signed up."
"Any idea where she went?"
He shrugged, then seemed to remember. "Manhattan."
Esther practically ran to her ship -- she was five months behind and had to make up for lost time.
Redisential Wing, Sheffield Station, Manchester System
The room was rather plainly furnished, the only decoration on the walls being a faded poster of the Bretonian glitter rock band "The Locksmyths", evidently left over from its previous occupant. Carly Denver sat at the utilitarian desk, filing paperwork - in this case, a request for maintenance on her Manta.
She filled out the form and signed her name. Then stared. That wasn't her signature. Her signature was simply "Carly Denver", in plain, unassuming letters. This one had squiggles and loops, what looked like an M, something that could have been an A.
She tried again. "CARLY DENVER", she said aloud.
The same signature.
She tried again, and again. On multiple pieces of paper, with multiple pens.
Squiggles, loops, an M, an A.
When the station attendants came in later to let her know dinner was on, they found her in a soggy, tear-stained heap on her bed, curled up in the fetal position, with that signature scrawled all over the walls.
Manhattan was a big place. Most planets, coincidentally, are. Esther chuckled as her train of thought wandered, like she was. In and out of buildings around the main spaceport, looking for anyone who had seen Carolyn. By the time she reached Honest Bob's Used Ship Emporium, she was stifling yawns and wishing she had a masseuse for her legs. She resolved that after this, she was taking a break.
A man in dirty coveralls and a greasy cap on top of a gnarled head. He smiled a toothless grin, the glint of gold kinda putting Esther off before she flashed the photo, cutting him off before he could begin his sales pitch.
"Seen this woman?"
He studied it hard, over-sized Adam's apple squirming in his throat as he thought.
"Ayup," he said, bobbing his head. "That be err... whats'ername... she bought a ship. Starflier. Lemme git ma records..."
He meandered back to the dingy office, putting up a stream of banter obviously meant to disarm the huntress. It was probably just a natural screen used to get people to buy ships. Until he reached into a drawer and pulled out a Detroit Munitions 9mm handgun quickly. Reflex more than conscious thought made Esther slam her hand into his wrist which was holding the gun. Since he had his back to her, it was easy enough to get the man into a headlock and slam her foot on the back of his leg, seeing it twist in an unnatural angle.
"That wasn't very nice," she breathed into his ear, venom dripping off every word. "Now, explain why you did that?"
He choked out something, and she prompted him by tightening her grip. "Hmm? Can't hear you!"
"What? Carly?" Esther let him go and he fell to his knees, gasping. She looked at the picture again. It did bear an odd resemblance to...
"Carly!" She ran to her ship and checked the Guild Database. It had her checked into the Psych Ward of Sheffield very recently. She sent a communication to the first mate of the Prodigal Daughter, Jesse O'Brian, and asked him to check on her (and make sure she didn't move) while she made her way over to Manchester.
Carly sat in the chair, defiantly scowling at the man seated opposite.
Doctor Michael Fitzwilliam sighed and looked at his patient, adjusting his glasses. "Agent Denver. We've been sitting here for three hours, and we've made no progress."
"We?"
The doctor rubbed his temple. "Agent Denver... may I call you Carly?"
Carly said nothing.
"Carly. Do you know why you're here?"
"What kind of question is that?" Carly blew a strand of hair out of her face.
"Just answer it, please."
"Of course I sodding well know! I'm cracking up. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"You're not cracking up, Carly. You're just..."
"Insane? Mad? Two Justices short of a Starflier?" Two Justices short of a Starflier... I'll have to remember that one. Dr Fitzwilliam sighed. "No, the word I wa looking for was 'troubled'."
"Oh, TROUBLED. Well, good dild you. They say the owl was a baker's daughter."
"I'm not following you."
"Shakespeare. What, didn't they teach you classic Old Earth literature in your fancy Cambridge private school?"
"I went to school on New London."
"Yeah. Sure."
The psychiatrist, again, sighed. "Well, other than the amnesia and stress, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to return to active duty."
"THANK you. Best news I've heard all day." She stood up and made for the door.
Behind her, Dr Fitzwilliam frowned. "Erm... actually..."
"Actually what?"
"I've just received a transmission. You're to stay here at Sheffield until further notice."
"Why?" she asked testily.
"I don't know."
Carly growled and went back to her quarters, a dark stormcloud over her head. Woe betide anyone who got in her way.