The Meeting of the Dons

[Fellow Hoodlum]

A gun-metal grey Sabre cruised into the vicinity of The Fantasia. The skin of the fighter was well scarred, and
the muzzles of the Krackens were blackened around the ends. There was a long scorch under the front of fuselage from the inferno cannon’s repeated use. A small faded Maltese Cross was painted under the cockpit.

“This is Sabre 66-101-1 requesting clearance for landing bay”

“Roger 66, clearance granted, please use pad 3 when docked, welcome onboard”

The fighter swung under the battleship, and slowed under the hull, the docking bay door slid open, and the
Sabre slowly went vertical and disappeared into the void.
Once in, it manoeuvred to a grav pad, and settled down, with all systems going off line with a quietening whine.
A tall slim man dressed in the usual Outcast leather flying jacket with the legend ‘101st GoR’ embroidered across
the back, stepped down from the ship, saluted the techs, and walked from the bay with a spring in his step.

“Can you point me in the direction of the council room?”

He spoke to the guard standing at attention outside the bay.

“Yes sir, take the express lift at the end of this corridor to the top floor, and it’s directly in front of you when you exit. There will some of my colleagues to assist you there.”

The Lift doors opened with a swoosh, and he left the cube. The guards snapped to attention.

“Yes sir, can we help?”

My name is Juan Miguel Marron, and I’m sure you have been expecting me.”

“Oh yes sir, please go straight in.”

He entered the room looked round and sat in the nearest empty chair. The air was thick with the fug of cigar
smoke, he coughed, and spoke to the holo-projection.

“Thanks Lope, take a little time off, I’ll let you know later.”

“So gentlemen, seems we have reached that time then. I’m a touch disappointed in all of you, certainly Willow here, who seems to be putting himself forward as a ‘supreme Commander’ if I’m not mistaken, reading between the lines …
I am the last of the original 101st group, and we have looked over these and guarded these skies as well as
we can for a long time. I have inherited the businesses of Kristina and Bernard to continue our legacy here,
We are the new order.
We continue to move our product through our associates, and those who would take the chance of easy profits on the long and dangerous runs through Sirius.
We have no time for the grubby upstart miners who plague our area, and the scummy Corsairs who feel we
owe them something for their betrayal of us. They will die if they continue to come here as usual.
This we have done, and will continue to do so. Our pilots know their standing orders, and most of the time,
follow them …
You are leaders of your houses, and would appear to have grown a little overweight and complacent recently, that you need someone to be in charge of the ‘wet work’,
I feel you should be able to look after yourselves after 800 years.
I am also a little despondent that there are those of you who feel the Border World and Outcast ship technology is not good enough for you also, many odd looking ships are creeping into our arsenal.
So I’ll not take up any more of your time, just to say my answer is ‘nay’ gentlemen.
There are much more important issues to be dealt with, than sitting here chewing the fat. Let me know, if anything comes up.”

He stood, turned and left the chamber. Minutes later the Sabre dropped out of the docking bay and swept off into the Maltese skies …

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Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."