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Leeds. A small starship emerging from the jumphole leading to the Maggellan System. After a brief scan of its surroundings, the pilot sets a course powers up the small vessels cruise drive. The razor sharp edges of the ships hull carve a path through the dense, red smog cloud, small particles of dust and radioactive materials bounce of the shields.
As the Dromedary steers clear of the cloud, its destination becomes visible - A huge planet, covered with boildings, factories and other structures, there isn't a single square meter on this piece of rock that hasn't been touched by man, no green, no blue left.
While the joung man piloting the ship makes some course adjustments, he hails the planets docking control, getting clearance to land his ship on one of the landing bays in the planets largest spaceport.





After setting his ship down and powering down its systems, he heads straight to the next bar. Although Leeds is a warzone, there's usually always someone offering work. Due to the proximity of the Dublin and Edinburgh systems, these jobs are mostly shady in nature, but aren't those exactely the kind of jobs that tend to make people rich? If they survive, that is.
Not that Burrows had any concerns about that, he knows what he's doing. He enters the first bar he spots, a shady dump with a distinguished smell. Upon entering, he quickly musters the people in the bar, holding his hand close to his weapon holster, and steps up to the mission terminal, inserts his neural-net access card and studies the work thats for offer.



"Only the usual crap" Burrows mumbles more to himself, but still audible.
"You're looking like a man hungry for work Freelancer."
A thin but calm voice sounded from one of the round tables in the corner of the etablissement.
"Among other things...you hiring?"
Greyson steps to the table and settles down. the man sitting on the other side of the table is in his middle-fifties and has geyish hair surrounding a bald-patch. He wears a worn out business suit and his blue eyes are constantly on the move, constantly scanning for possible threats it seems.
"Sandoval. My name is Sandoval mister. Indeed I am, I'm currently looking for someone who can handle a run of cargo for me, nothing out of the ordinary, no contraband, no dangers. Interested"
"I've heared that song before mister Sandoval. But alright, I'll be your pilot. What are the details?"
"You will be delivering a load of hull panels to Fort Severn out in the Ontario System, its a simple straight forward job and will net you 200.000 credits."
"That really isn't much of a fortune mister, how about a little advance to compensate?"
"Well, I don't really have any money with me right now, but I have something you might be interested in...recently, I got hold of a very special piece of art, an ancient, alien artefact. Very valuable. I need to part from it for a while so if you could hold on to it for me until you return here for your pay, I'll pay you a bonus of 250.000 credits."

Burrows snorts.
"In other words, it's hot, and you want me to take the heat for you?"
"Well, there are some elements wanting that piece and I need to distance myself from it for a while. I doubt anyone will be able to trace it to you anyways aaand it's only for this single run. Do we have a deal?"
"Sure, why not I can use the credits. Although I'll probably wind up regretting this."
"Then go with god my suspicious friend, and hurry back!"
Burrows leaves the bar and walks back to his ship, where the cargo of hull panels has already been loaded by the cargo droids. He weighs the artefact Sandoval gave him and sighs.
Ten minutes later, the Dromedary made a clean dustoff from Leeds, heading towards deep space.

Planet Leeds, the same bar, the same smell. Burrows enters the door and carefully checks on who's present. The time is right, but that Sandoval figure isn't there.
"Ah, you look just like your picture, too bad."
Burrows turns around, the hand close to his sidearm, and finds a woman cothed in shabby leather closes sitting at the table behind him, her green eyes mustering him carefully.
"After a few drinks you'll change your mind miss...uh..."
"Call me Tayla, I used to do business with Sandoval."
"I'd rather talk about my face...whats wrong with it, anyway?"

Tayla looked at Burrows leniently, like she was going to tell something pretty obvious and only Greyson hadn't understood it yet. That was something he didn't like, but was going to endure if that Tayla will enlighten him.
"Nothing, except the police have it plastered all over the hollows. Sandoval is dead and we want you for questioning. Tough break, but I'€™m here to offer you the work now the sheerer between the jobs. I need you to make four special deliveries for me."
Wonderful. Goodbye, half a million creidits. Well, maybe he could have some alternative now.
"By special you mean risky and illegal."
"And lucrative. The first run pays ten thousands credits."
Burrows chocked over this offer. Ten thousands, he could work as a waiter for it instead of putting his back in danger - and he still had that strange thing, Sandoval asked him to keep - and it may cost much more than another pointless job.
"That'€™s lucrative? Thanks, but I got my own leads to follow up.
Right, the artifact. You have it, but you don'€™t know anything about it. I can tell you in after you fly my mission. How about it, captain?"
That sounded like a cold shower. Yes, he had that possibly useful, possibly expensive, whatever else artifact and he could sell it off like a decoration for one's sitting room - hardly for something else. Tayla was right and her offer sounded reasonable. In case the artifact will appear to be a trinket, he'll still have some spare cash to refuel anyway - and she wasn't paying too much which made her look trustworthy. She almost wasn't paying, that meant that it's fueled by his interest. Alright.
"With the police after me, I could use trip off system."
"Good, but you won'€™t get paid until you finish."
"Suits me. So long as you tell me about the artifact now."
So, giving it a try.
"After you done. Now listen, the first mission is easy. Your cargo will be the illegal load of alloys. All in your manifest will be saying that you are running it to Newcastle. You will deviate from your course along the way and will deliver to Holmfirth, a hidden base in Manchester where I have connections. While you work for me, their patrols will leave you alone. Count on it. Leave your ship on attendant and I'€™ll meet you there in the bar."
So, something shady, something interesting. Something to deliver that is meant to be alloys, but Burrows had a habit not to be too cuirous about what he was working with. It's always safer to believe that it's just a load of alloys, since he wasn't going to stop for a cargo scan or do something more stupid.
"Just be sure no one kills you while I'€™m gone, Tayla. I'€™ve got an investment in you and I'€™d meant to collect."