A Change of Plans

[Thexare]

Evan hated to admit it, but the new business was profiting greatly. Brian Miller, the owner of the Silverwind, found a trade run that ran two blockades and smuggled Cardamine straight into California... and would be swimming in credit chits if they didn't have such sharp corners.

His ship, the Cerulean, was dedicated to running legal trade routes still, and was getting reinforced to run food out to Omicron Gamma without getting blown to bits by Nomads when Drake walked up to him.

"Hey. Come with me, we need to talk about something." His tone was serious, and a worrying one; Evan knew about his close ties to the Junkers, and wondered if maybe ALS had done something wrong with the Junker tech. But Drake didn't lead him to a hidden, out-of-the-way area; quite the opposite, he brought him to the end of the hangar reserved for fighters and freighters, and climbed into a CSV parked there. "Get in that one over there, and come with me. We're going to Trafalgar."

So much for not being a quiet, out-of-the-way location. But Evan's CSV was not defenseless; like Drake's, it was armed with Mark 4 Barragers and military-grade reinforced fighter armor. The trip into the debris field was an uneventful one, the local constables knew Evan quite well and let him pass undisturbed and the pirates had heard of ALS's Junker work and decided to pretend they never saw the CSVs.

"We're here," Drake announced as they reached a spot in the field.

"I don't see Trafalgar."

"We're not going to Trafalgar. Look up, Evan." Evan did as he was told, and he saw the skeleton of a Bretonian destroyer. Junkers were picking at it with their grabbing arms as a squad of Collectors flew as guards. To the untrained eye, it appeared that nothing of value remained, but a Junker would know better.

"Evan, the Junkers salvage more than just junk metal. Once in a while, military hardware drifts out of sight, written off as 'lost in battle' or 'missing in action'. We return most of the equipment, this is part of why the Houses tolerate us. Ah, they cleared the area around the fighter bay... perfect. Give me a hand here, Evan." Evan was a bit clumsy with the grabbing arm on his CSV, but he picked up a few Sunrail particle blasters and storage crates full of ammunition. "No, I mean the docking bay doors. I need them for a project. There we go, thanks. We buy and sell illegal goods, you know about that, that's why ALS has this agreement with us. But our dealing with criminals are also why the cops put up with us - whenever they come after us, we point them to some petty thief or terrorist. We come across this information, and it keeps us safe."

"Why are you telling me this?" Evan asked, watching as Drake dextrously placed the doors in the cargo hold of a nearby Salvage Frigate.

"You and the rest of ALS are a lot like us Junkers. We salvage as a cover operation, your legal trade keeps you clear. We tell the police about pirates, you tell them about other smugglers to shield your own."

"... "us" Junkers? You-"

"I'm still a Junker, of course!" Drake finished. "Never left. You needed escort pilots, and we wanted to make sure our ships weren't abused. Anyway, we'll talk more another time, that Salvager's gonna be disassembling those doors and bringing 'em to Liberty for me, and I have to make sure they get there in four pieces."

"Drake, wait a second. Drake! Damn it, he cut his comms..." Evan flew back to Cambridge alone, and landed at the Azure Line Shipping hangar. As he had the lifter robots empty out his hold, he smiled a little. The trip had freaked him out a little, and he had no idea what the hell Drake was rambling about, but he'd always liked some good, honest work.