I just wasted 72 hours trying to get myself a new Trader's license for the Aedos. Blasted bureaucrats. At least they finally gave it to me... for a while, I wasn't sure they would.
I got a call yesterday morning. "Mr. Seldon?" the voice on the intercom droned.
"That's me." I replied.
"Excellent. This is Hans Jefferson from Liberty Licensing Services. We're currently processing your application for a private trader's license, and we would like to inspect your ship."
"Is that really necessary?"
"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Seldon. We'll be at the spaceport in one hour. Please be there on time."
Well, that was unexpected. Last time I applied for a license, they hadn't even asked to see my ship. This time, they were demanding it. A quick flip through the licensing documents confirmed that ship inspection was not part of the licensing procedure. I threw on my jacket and hurried to the spaceport.
Twenty minutes later, walking up the corridor towards hangar 324-D, I was surprised to find that the door was open. I ran inside, and saw my cargo hold opened and a service vehicle parked nearby. My ship had been boarded. The "inspectors," apparently, had intended for me to show up after their inspection was already complete. Before I could think about this further, I saw and heard the sparks of a metal-cutter coming from inside my opened cargo hold. "WHAT THE SPACE ARE YOU DOING TO MY SHIP?" I yelled, my voice echoing through the hangar. There was a moment, then the sparks stopped. A man appeared in the hold entrance, flanked by a pair of armed guards. He spoke, and I recognized his deadpan voice from earlier.
"Good morning, Mr. Seldon. We took the liberty of beginning the inspection without you. I'm sure you will appreciate our efforts to expedite the registration process."
Was I really supposed to believe that was his motive? "Mr. Jefferson, is it standard inspection procedure to cut holes in people's ships?"
He smiled, a thin patronizing grimace. My fist twitched at my side. "Come aboard," he said. I did, and the guards stepped in behind me. Why did they think I was going to make a run for it?
"Mr. Seldon, could you please explain these?" He pointed. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that he was referring to my crate of blaster rifles and pistols.
"Yes," I replied. "Those are for my protection. I have a right to own them, what's the problem?"
"There is no problem, Mr. Seldon," he said. "But we are led to wonder why a private trader would need such things."
"I have them," I replied as calmly as I could, "in case someone tries to board my ship without permission."
Jefferson didn't even blink. "Very well."
"Now could you please tell me what you were just doing to my ship? And please don't tell me it's standard procedure."
He didn't, but he didn't tell me what it was either. "We were inspecting the ship's identification plate."
The ID plate was just some numbers that are unique to every spaceship manufactured in the houses of Sirius. I'd looked at it myself earlier in order to fill out the license application. His answer didn't make sense: you don't inspect an ID plate with a metal-cutter. I told him so.
"Mr. Seldon," he said, a trace of exasperation creeping into his monotonic voice. Finally, some humanity. "Would you please look closely at your ID plate?"
I did, and noticed something that I hadn't before. The ID plate was a thin piece of metal that had been welded on: it wasn't part of the original hull, as the ID plate should be. Jefferson had been using the metal-cutter to remove the extra plate from the hull...
"Ah. I see. You're trying to see if my ship was stolen."
"I'm glad, Mr. Seldon, that you understand. Now may I please continue?"
"Will I get my license if I say no?"
"No."
"Then get this over with."
I had to admit, I was curious to see what was underneath. I didn't know much about the history of my ship before I bought her and named her the Aedos. I suspected that she was used to smuggle Cardamine once, but had she been stolen? Jefferson, despite his deadpan bureaucratic facade, proved to be handy with a cutter. He quickly finished his work, and the ID plate clanged to the floor. He turned off the cutter, the sparks disappeared, we both blinked as we adjusted to the dim light.
There was nothing there: just the smooth wall of the cargo hold and some scorch marks from the cutter.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Jefferson sighed. "Mr. Seldon, your license will be activated by tomorrow morning. We apologize for the inconvenience."
He wasted no time in leaving, signaling to the guards to follow him as he left. I was left standing in my hold, the ID plate in my hands, muttering to myself that the least he could have done was weld the plate back on. I looked again at the spot where the welded ID plate had been, ran my fingers over it...then paused. What HAD happened to the original ID plate?
For now, though, it didn't matter. This mystery could wait. I reattached the extra ID plate, just below where it had been before, leaving the strange smoothness and the cutter's burn marks uncovered. Maybe I'd find answers later...
--End Entry--
--Begin Entry--
For some reason, the Liberty Navy really likes me. They've put me in charge of the 383rd Fighter Wing, assigned to Los Angeles and the LNS-Phoenix. Honestly, it's more responsibility than I ever cared for, but they think I'm the man for the job, and I'm too stubborn to tell them they're wrong. If they are, they'll have to find out for themselves. In the meantime, we're mobilizing and preparing for some action out around Tau-31. It seems the Brets have contracted the Colonials to help break the blockade around Planet Harris, and we have orders to help. In short, we're doing something just short of going to war with Kusari... a risky and bold move, if you ask me. At least we're finally doing something.
![[Image: aedos_mini.jpg]](http://students.cs.byu.edu/~sushi/aedos_mini.jpg)