"It ain't much, but it's honest work" aka "The freelancer's woes"

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
On board Ol'Reliable
9/16/830

---

Why? Why did he took the ship? Finnean opened his eyes and stared blankly at the cup of what passed for coffee these days, while his mind wandered. On a surface level, it seemed obvious. He wanted to escape the routine. Flying from planet to station, ferrying people between New London and Waterloo, day in, day out, just to make ends meet. He spent most of his adult years doing that and he was tired of it for almost as long as he did it. He always dreamed of something larger, but he never had the money to pursue it. Shuttle pilots aren’t known for being rich, especially when they have to pay alimony for two kids. Thus, when the opportunity presented itself, it made sense to take the transport ship for himself. Or did it?

Finnean didn’t know why the foreign man bet the ship in the game of Liberty hold’em. The stranger never said it. Or maybe he did and Finnean just didn’t remember. He did drink quite a lot that night. But the bet was cast and at the end of the night, the ship had changed hands.

He took a sip of the ‘coffee’ and examined his thoughts. Yes, escape was the reason, but the longer Finnean had the transport, the more he questioned if it was a good reason. Or the full reason for that matter. And he had the ship - Ol’Reliable he re-named it - for just a little over a week. It really didn’t take long for him to start questioning his decision. Two days to be precise. On one hand, he was his own boss now. That was an undeniable fact. But he was also his own pilot, mechanic, accountant, navigator, purchasing agent, salesman and god - if he existed - only knew who else.

In fact, it was surprising he had some time for himself at all. Serenity class is a big ship after all and Finnean was the only human on board. Sure, the ship has a full complement of advanced robots and automatons to act as a crew and its AI routines were everything but standard issue, but there were still a lot of things which required his attention. Like the cargo bay computer core yesterday.

It worked just fine… more than fine really, it was perfect. It autonomously kept track of every loaded or unloaded cargo with extreme precision. In fact, it was probably a level or two above any standard issue storage software, a fact that caused Finnean to seriously wonder who the previous owner was, but it had one major flaw. It religiously refused to log the origin of the cargo, or timestamp its delivery manifest and it purged the cargo records after delivery.

It took Fin several hours to figure out what was causing it and to reconfigure the AI’s core without damaging its abilities. In the end it turned out it was not a bug in the programming but a deliberate change in the AI, which only deepened Finnean’s suspicions about the previous owner.

Loud beep from the comm console severed his train of thought. He finished his coffee, put the cup into the automatic sink and opened the message. It was from Nebula Tech, so nothing unexpected but it had some good news. They apparently decided his honesty, a flaw he sometimes deeply regretted, deserved to be rewarded and let him keep their overpayment as an extra bonus.

Well, he won’t argue with them. He needed the money. Sure, the revenue he got from hauling large scale cargo shipments was many times higher than the salary of a shuttle pilot, but there was a ton of costs too, something he didn’t realise at first. Just the price of fuel alone was a staggering number and then there was the mooring fees, spare parts and many other things. He quickly realised how much the old saying about empty ship being a black hole for money was true. Sure, the transport allowed Fin to make incredible profits (at least incredible compared to what he was used to), but it also meant he had to keep flying to stay ahead of the costs.

That thought finally banished the last bits of his morning melancholy. The ship must fly, the cargo must flow. Time to make some money.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Waterloo station
9/19/830

---

Finnean’s first thought was he really overdid it with the drinking last night. His second thought was a confused realisation that he hadn't been drinking. His third thought was focused on his body and its inability to move. The fourth thought never came, because it was pushed out by a strong anxiety bordering on panic. Why does his head hurt like he got hit by a ship to ship missile? Why can’t he move his hands and feet? No, scratch that, why can’t he feel them? And why can’t he see anything even though his eyes are open?

For a few excruciating seconds, panic overtook all control and he thrashed around, desperately trying to move, to escape this nightmare. Then the panic waned, replaced by fear. Not a fear of something in particular but a more primal, encompassing, bone chilling fear, driven by the total lack of control and senses, nourished by the absolute lack of understanding. What has happened to him? What stripped him of his ability to move, to hear, see, feel and smell?

He sat there, frozen in darkness, for what felt like eternity, even though somewhere deep inside him, his pilot’s instinct for timing was telling him it wasn't more than a minute. Then, finally, something broke the total lack of everything. A female voice, coming seemingly from all around him. It was unsettling, and yet welcomed, for it showed him an important thing. He hasn’t lost his hearing, there simply was nothing to hear before.

“Ah, I see you are awake, mister.” said the voice. “Good. We feared you were dead for a moment.” Finnean tried to move his head, to figure out where the voice was coming from and, surprisingly, he was able to do so. Sure, he turned for maybe an inch to the left, but that was still a vast improvement over just a minute ago, when he could move at all.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You could fall over and break your neck. That would be a shame, don’t you think?” the voice warned him in an amused tone. “Don’t worry, you’ll recover. Eventually. Nasty things those modern stun guns, wouldn’t you say?” the women chuckled.

A stun gun. That explained the headache, paralysis and lack of feeling he was experiencing. He was never hit by a stun gun before, but he read about its effects. The descriptions were pretty spot on from what he could tell, though they didn’t really convey the intensity of the headache or the horror of not being able to move. That train of thought almost made him laugh at the absurdity. He had been stunned, abducted and he probably won’t survive the next few hours, and yet he mused about the inaccuracy of some article about stun guns he barely remembered.

The female voice pulled him back into reality.

“Now, if I may have your attention, mister. The effects of the stun will wear off and I want to tell you a few things before they do, so listen carefully, I don’t want to repeat myself. You stole from us. We want our shipement back. In about a minute or so, the paralysis should weaken enough for you to be able to speak. When it does, you’ll tell me where the cargo is. If you do, you might live. If you won’t, you will die. If you lie to me, you will suffer, and then you will die. So don’t lie. We’ll know.”

The panic was back. Stole from them? What in the hell was she talking about? He never stole, he never cheated, hell, he didn’t even lie… well, most of the time. Some small lies, maybe. But stealing? And from whom? Who were they? What cargo was stolen from them? Why did they think he, off all people, stole it?

He felt his feet and fingers tingle. The effects of the stun gun were indeed wearing off, just as the woman said. He mustered all the courage he had, what little he had, and managed to push a few worlds through his still half paralysed vocal chords.

“Didn’t… steal! Got… wrong... guy!”

Sharp pain manifested in his lower back and arced his spine in a way he wouldn’t think possible. His muscles cramped, jaws clenched, his word shrank into a nanoscopic, razor sharp needle, puncturing all his nerves at once. Then, as fast as it started, it was gone. He slumped and panted, feeling exhausted like he just ran a marathon around a space station.

“I told you you’ll suffer if you lie to me. But you still had to do it. That’s not smart.”

The woman's voice lost its smoothness, gone was the playful tone, now there was only anger and steel in it.

“Then again, you are not a very smart man after all, if you thought you could get away with pocketing our property. I’ll admit, your relocation to Bretonia threw us off at first. So did renaming the ship. But you forgot one thing. We have a complete scan of your ship’s emissions. That serenity you moored at dock six is the same one which ran away a month ago with our crates. We found the ship that took our cargo and so we found our thief. You. So drop the act and spill the beans. Where. Is. The. Shipment?”

Finnean’s mind raced. Month ago? But he didn’t have the ship then. Hell, Ol’Reliable was his for little under two weeks! And then it clicked. All the little oddities about the ship he could explain, the enthusiasm with which the previous owner bet the ship in the game, or the strange lack of emotion when he lost the round and the ship with it. He wanted to lose it! He planned to! And Finn was his scapegoat. Sh*t.

“Please, I didn’t steal your stuff!” he blurted out, “I didn’t own the bloody ship then! I won her in poker, a week ago, from a weird bloke with a libby accent! You have to trust me! Look up her registration, you’ll see she was re-registered in New London!”

He fell silent. His paralysis was gone, his headache too and yet he couldn't move, just cover in fear in the chair which he was bound to by the restraints he could now feel on his wrists and knees. The silence grew. Finn couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or bad one. On one hand, what he said was true and it could be easily proved just by looking up the transport’s registration in the public records. On the other hand, they, whoever they were, could just decide to kill him and be done with it.

“Well, mister,” said the woman after an uncomfortably long moment of silence, the edge gone from her voice, “it looks like you’re lucky. My colleagues pulled up your ship's registration and to our genuine surprise, you didn’t lie. Of course, you could’ve just re-registered it to a different false identity, but we decided to give you a benefit of doubt.”

Finnean couldn’t believe what he heard.

“So… so that means I can go?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Oh, you’ll live,” laughed the woman, “but you’re not off the hook. You see, you may not have stolen from us, but your ship definitely did. In our eyes, that makes you responsible for her actions, regardless if you owned her then or not. You helped the thief to get away with our possessions, albeit unknowingly, and so you will have to compensate us.”

“Co… compensate you? I.. I can do that, I have some money…” Finn said, but the women cut him off.

“Keep your money, we don’t need it. What we need is the artefacts which were stolen. Now, we don’t expect you to track down that particular shipment, but you’ll get and deliver us a new one. Full hold of genuine Xeno relics from the corsair space. How you get them doesn’t matter, but you’ll get them and deliver them to the New York, then you’re off the hook. We’ll send you the detailed coordinates when you obtain the cargo. And don’t think about legging it. We found you once, finding you again will be much easier. And we’ll be keeping tabs on you anyway.”

Suddenly the lights turned on. Finnean blinked, blinded by the sharp light after sitting in complete darkness. He felt his cuffs open, someone grabbed him and shoved him through a door and out of the room. When his eyes finally got used to the light, Finn found himself in a narrow maintenance corridor. He took a few moments to calm down, then he sighed and started walking. He wasn’t looking forward to the job he was just given, but something told him he really should do what the mysterious people wanted. He simply haven't got the guts to argue with them, no matter how stupid and nonsensical their ‘logic’ was. Winning a ship in poker certainly didn’t mean he won it’s past sins with her, but Finn was quite certain his... 'employers' didn't care.

Which meant only one thing. He will have to get them their relics. As for how though… he didn’t know. Not yet at least.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Kreuzberg Depot
9/25/830

---

Finnean looked at the cargo in Ol’Reliable’s hold and wondered how did things go this way this fast. He started out maybe a month ago, with his new Serenity he won in cards, full of dreams of grandeur and fast cash. Now? He was about to smuggle black market munitions for someone who was probably affiliated with rogues. He sighed. It all started with the mysterious people demanding he gets some alien relics or relics for them. He still wasn’t able to get his hands on any, but things looked promising at least.

The other piece of the puzzle was the lack of gold in the BMM installations. Finn wasn’t sure what caused it, but it made him look for other sources. And he found one. His gut feeling proved to be true and Mollys really had gold stored away, but Finn wondered if he would even look their way if he wasn’t already in talks with corsairs about the relics. And now this. Someone contacted him in California in a rather shady way and asked if he would be up for some delivery. And Finn agreed.

He sighed again, closed the bay and took the turbolift to the command deck. He sat in his chair, opened the map of the sector and pondered his situation. He couldn’t go through the regular route, it was simply too risky to take black market stuff through New York, even if he stuck to the jump holes. He grabbed a cup of coffee and let his eyes wander around the map. Maybe there is a better route, somewhere in the systems where charts weren’t publicly available… and were installed in the ship’s mainframe anyway.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Ravenna Invicta
10/03/830

---

The cargo hold was full. Filled to the brink with crates upon crates of Xeno relics, purchased directly from corsairs no less. Finn had to pinch himself, just to make sure this wasn’t some wild dream. When the mysterious people first “contacted” him, he didn’t truly believe he’ll be able to get the artefacts. Sure, he would try, but he was fully prepared to abandon ship and run like hell to some distant system far out of house space. After all, he was a nobody, a random bretonian freelancer with no idea where to even start. No contacts, no intel, no nothing.

And yet he pulled through. He wasn’t sure if it was sheer dumb luck or good thinking, but the only “plan” he could come up with was to go to some freeport and start asking questions. Since the only freeport he knew was Freeport 1, it made sense to begin there. To his utter and complete surprise, it worked. Some shady guy got him in contact with one of the corsair groups, even though the fee he took for that was an outright theft. It took two Beryllium shipments to Crete to earn the corsair’s trust, but after that, he was granted the right to purchase the relics.

But it’s not done yet, is it? Getting the relics was only the first part of the job, and, hard as it was, it was unfortunately the easy part. Now he had to get the relics to New York, with all the risks that carried with it. He sighed, made his way to the bridge and fired up the NavMap, including the unofficial charts the previous owner so generously left in the ship’s computers.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Deep Omicrons
10/04/830

---

Finn's eyes were glued to the sensor displays. His fingers were frantically requesting more and more sensor data through the touchscreen interface, while his stare fixated the two dots marking the unidentified contacts about to clicks from Ol’Reliable. They appeared in the cloud of strange matter Finn was currently flying through on his way from Omicrons to Liberty, his scanner repeatedly insisted those objects had nothing metallic in them and yet they easily kept pace with Finn’s ship. They stayed at their distance, never made any attempt to close in, but the short time it took Finn to reach the jump hole felt like eternity.

He had to take a break after the jump. His heart was racing like never before, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. Nomads. Had to be them. What else was out there, capable of spaceflight in non-metallic vessels? That thought gave him shivers. And to think he felt safe out thereHe thought the only danger in these parts were corsairs and since he struck a deal with them, he allowed himself to drop his guard. Well, reality came knocking and Finn was lucky it was just a gentle reminder and not a hard crash. It took him about an hour before he was able to continue. He entered new coordinates into the NavComputer, and watched on display how Ol’Reliable slowly changed vector towards the next jump hole. He still got the relics to deliver.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Planet Manhattan
10/08/830

---

It is interesting how a random encounter can shift someone’s perspective. At the beginning of his artefact smuggling run to New York, Finn was convinced flying his Serenity full of highly illegal cargo through Liberty Space was the most nerve wracking experience one could ever had, maybe with the exception of an actual fight for one's own life. The brief encounter with what he believed were nomads completely changed that.

Nothing could compare to that nerve wracking flight. Sure, he was a bit anxious, especially the last stretch through New York was really uncomfortable, but with a bit of luck and using an unusual route he managed to pull it off. Now, the containers with relics waited in a storage depot his ‘customers’ arranged.

“Mister MacRory!” a familiar female voice greeted him. “You are full of surprises, mister. We were fully expecting you’d try to hide in some deep corners of sirius. In fact, we were betting on where exactly you’ll try to hide.”

Finnean turned towards the voice. Its owner wasn’t hiding behind an intercom anymore, though the woman still covered her face with some holo mask. Finn shrugged. “What can I say? I like civilization. I did actually consider running, but I figured you probably already knew all the good hiding spots anyway.”

The woman laughed. “We sure do mister, we sure do. Still, we’re impressed. Not everyone has the courage to work with corsairs. They’re a dangerous bunch.”

“Well yes, they are,” Fin countered, “but unlike certain someones, they were not actively threatening me. It was just a matter of trust. But enough smalltalk. I did what you asked. You have your relics, I hope that means our business is finished.”

“Well, mister MacRory, that’s up to you.” she said in a seductive tone. “We can certainly use a skilled smuggler like you. And we can pay a lot of credits for the relics… or provide other… compensation if that’s what you want. ”

The question lingered in silence for a moment. Then Finn sneered.

“No, thanks,” he replied dryly. “I still feel the treatment you gave me when we first met. Your offer might be… tempting, but I have standards. Working with someone who tortures you for something someone else doesn’t meet them.”

The woman gave him a long silent look, probably considering if she should push him harder. When she finally spoke, the sultry undertone in her voice was gone, replaced by a cold steel.

“As you wish, MacRory, as you wish. But you’re letting go of a once in a lifetime opportunity. We do not offer second chances. Our offer stands until you leave New York. I hope you’ll reconsider.” Then, without any more words, she turned around and left the warehouse.

Finn’s eyes followed her out. ‘Yeah,’ he thought. ‘Sooner the hell freezes over then I’ll reconsider.’

[Demonic]

TIMESKIP TO 833 AS

---

Finnean and Lachlan MacRorys are running their smuggling operation on New London and have recently started looking for other pilots and crews to increase their transport capacity. Ol'Reliable is not crewed solely by bots and AI but there is a small group of people manning the most critical stations. All of them are handpicked by Lachlan from their smuggling network.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
On board of Ol'Reliable
10/14/833

---

Finnean aligned his ship with the trade lane and started the docking sequence. NavComputer took over and soon, Ol’Reliable was sliding through the lane towards New London. He turned in his chair and looked at the woman manning the gun and scanner console. He wasn’t sure where Lachlan found her, but she was way better at handling the turrets than the ship’s computer. She wasn’t firing them directly of course, no human can aim and fire multiple turrets at the same time, especially when handling multiple targets, but she had an unnatural knack for refining the tracking data and algorithms on the fly, greatly improving the gun’s accuracy. She eventually noticed his look and smiled at him.

“So, shore leave after all?” She asked. “Aren’t you afraid your crew will disappear the moment Ol’Reliable docks?”

Finn chuckled. “No, I’m not Sheena. They are free spirits, as much as you or me. They jumped at the opportunity to fly on this ship and get out of their boring dirtside jobs. Why would they leave? And if they do leave, so what? They are free to go and they’re no snitches, my brother made sure to filter any potential troublemakers out.”

“You always have an answer ready, right boss?” Sheena grinned.

“Sure have lass, sure have.” He turned back to his console and studied the readouts for a short bit, then looked at Sheena again. “Listen, you mind keeping watch on things until we get to the planet? It should be a smooth ride for a few hours and I need to do a bit of housekeeping.”

“No problem, boss,” she nodded, “just make sure you’re the one who wins, not the paperwork.”

Finnean returned the nod, locked his console and walked out of the bridge. He went past the mess hall, through a few corridors and into his cabin. It was a plain room with a bunk, small closet for clothes and desk with a chair and computer terminal. Toilet and shower were tucked away in an even smaller room behind sliding doors. His cabin was void of any decoration, save for a few old memorabilia hanging on the bulkhead. Lachlan once asked Finn why he chose a room so small, when he lived on a ship originally meant for a few dozen crewmembers. It was a good question and it took Finn a long time before he realized the true answer. In the end, it was simple. He was used to it, liked it even. Guess the years spent in a small shuttle cockpit have left their mark.

He brushed the thought aside, sat in the chair and turned on the terminal. He quickly scanned the news, but nothing caught his eye. There were some reports about a skirmish in Dublin, but that was old news. Ever since corsairs decided to squat there, skirmishes between Mollys and Corsairs were pretty much a daily occurrence. There was nothing interesting in his regular message account either, but one of the encrypted channels showed activity. Finn opened it, read through the message and let out a sharp whistle.

“Should’ve guessed Wilson will go big.” he thought. “12 000 gallons of H-fuel, 6 000 units of construction materials and shipment of sake?” Finn mused at the numbers for a while. It was certainly doable, and it should be a reasonably safe job, but those amounts meant at least six separate shipments if not more. Then again, their whole job was about ferrying stuff from one place to another. What does it matter if they make a few back ’n forths? Finn nodded to himself, opened his favorite commodity broker site and started crunching numbers.

Intercom buzzed about an hour and a half later. Finn raised eyes from his screen and pushed the button on the wall.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Coming up on New London boss.” said Sheena’s voice from the hidden reproductor.

Finn quickly checked the time. “Already? But that would mean…”

“Yep, no lane interruptions at all.”

“Huh. Weird. Ok, I’ll be there in a few. Try not to insult any navy officer in the meantime.”

“No promises boss.” Sheena laughed and ended the call.

Finn quickly saved his incomplete message for Wilson and headed to the bridge.

“So, how’s it looking?” he asked as he entered the room.

“Navies are all hot and bothered, boss, seems like some corsair group snuck through to Dublin again,” Sheena said. “But they let us go after a quick scan.”

“How very nice of them. Right, do we have a number?”

“Sure have, we’re five in the docking queue.”

“Perfect. Tell Colin and Max to make sure we are topped up on everything. We’ll probably be out of Bretonia for a while when this visit is over and I hate refilling on foreign stations. The foreign nanites never work as well as the ones from around here.”

Sheena rolled her eyes. “Alright, I will. But you know it’s just your superstition, right? The nanites are the same, it doesn't matter if we pick them up in Bretonia, Kusari or some border world freeport.”

Finn opened his mouth to reply, but Sheena grinned and shooed him away with a joking gesture.

“Oh, shush, I don’t need an hour long lecture about the tiny differences in bretonian manufacturing. Don’t you have somewhere to be? I believe you mentioned you have a visit to make?”

Finn laughed. “You’re a handful, Sheena, have I ever told you that?”

“Only every other day so far. Now go, I’ll take care of the girl while you’re drinking your brother under the table.”

He had no answer to that so he just shrugged. “Fine, fine, I’m going. I’ll be back in a few days. And don’t you stay on the ship for the whole time, you deserve some R’nR as much as anyone else on this ship.”

Sheena just smiled and shooed him away again. Finn finally capitulated. He briefly checked the ship’s status and then left the bridge. He packed a few things, mostly clothes, and went to the airlock. By the time he got there, Ol’Reliable was safely docked, so he wasted no time and headed for the passenger terminal. Lachlan wasn’t expecting him for at least a few more hours, so he could probably pay a quick visit to their mother before he goes to see his brother.

He considered his options and finally decided to make the visit. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if Fiona found out her son was on planet, had time to spare, and did not at least stop by to say hello.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
New London, Restaurant Ye Olde Dame
10/15/833

---

“So, how was your visit to our mother?”

Finn gave his younger brother a flat stare. “So, you know?” he asked.

Lachlan laughed and sipped from his glass of whisky. “Finnean, brother dear, it’s my job to know. How else would our business survive if I didn’t know the when, where and with whom about every important person in the county? I was notified you’re on the planet the moment your shuttle detached from the station. But stop evading my question. How was the visit?”

Finn shook his head and sighed. “Pretty much the usual. She still can’t forgive me I dropped the ferry job and went ‘flying through the void’ as she calls it.” He let out another sigh. “Nothing I can say can will sway her. It’s always ‘It’s dangerous out there’ or ‘Someone’s going to kill you one of these days’ or even better ‘You had a nice stable job, why did you have to ruin that?’ Ugh. Is she always like that, or just when I’m around?“

“The truth?” asked his brother. “She’s always like that, ever since our da’ died.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “That was a bloody construction accident, it has nothing to do with a spaceflight!”

“Yes, brother,” agreed Lachlan, “it doesn't, but that’s not the point. It’s not about the flying or anything specific in particular, she’s simply a worrywart. You get used to it. But enough about our dear mother, I assume you want to talk about our business, now that the dinner is over?”

Finnean smiled, grateful for the change of topic. “Yes, I would very much like to. Especially if you have any new pilots.”

This time, it was Lachlan’s turn to sigh. “I wish I could say I have. We have a lot of people to pick from to run the ground side of things but pilots, especially those willing and able to fly large transports in space, are rare to come by. I’m afraid we’ll have to look outside of New London for that. Anyone here who wants to fly is already doing so, for one corporation or other, or, worse, for the police or military.”

“Well… can’t say I’m surprised, though it might throw a wrench into our plans. I got a large order from Wilson and I really hoped I won't be the only one to haul all that stuff.”

“Wilson? Should I be familiar with that name?”

“Not really, no. Remember the Rogue from magellan? I flew some stuff for him about three years ago.”

“Ah, that one. So he’s still around then?”

“Yea, alive and kicking. And his 'boys' apparently acquired a taste for sake out of all things.”

Lachlan winced. “Sake? But why, that thing tastes worse than…” His sentence was interrupted by a loud buzz from his comlink.

“Sorry, I have to take that.”

He grabbed the device, put one of the earbuds into his ear and accepted the call.

“MacRory… Calm down lass, breathe and tell me what happened… Sh*t, you’re sure about that!?... Right, get your ass somewhere safe and stay there until I call you!... Good, now get going, I’ll take care of it on this end.”

With that, Lachlan ended the call and stood up.

“Grab your things, no time to explain, we gotta go, now!” he said and rushed towards the exit.

Finn didn’t argue. He knew his brother well and Lachlan was dead serious. Something bad had happened. They left the restaurant, though not before they left a generous tip in untraceable credit chips and Lachlan led them through the streets. They quickly left the nicer parts of the city behind and delved into the bleak monochrome labor district. Suddenly Lachlan grabbed Finn and made a sharp turn into a small alley. Then he stopped, turned around, and observed the main street.

They stood there in silence for some time. Finally Lachlan relaxed.

“Looks like we’re in the clear. Listen, brother, our people found out somebody tipped off the authorities about our meeting. One of my eyes just reported in and it looks like all the police got was a general tip some smugglers will be there with a lot of cardamine. They don’t have our names or descriptions and I sure as hell don’t know what gave them an idea we deal in cardi, but that’s secondary. What worries me is that someone tipped them off at all.”

Finn nodded with a grim expression. “It opens up certain unpleasant possibilities, eh?”

“That it does.” agreed Lachlan. “So, you get your ass back to space and on your ship. Don’t depart just yet, that could look suspicious, but I don’t want to risk you getting caught, while I'm trying to lure the rat out.”

“Yeah, that would be unfortunate. Do you think it’s safe to send the others down? They need to spend some time dirtside, they earned it.”

Lachlan scratched his beard and then nodded. “Sure, why not. They are not part of the active network, they work directly with you and they’re away from the planet most of the time anyway. Doubt they’re compromised. Just tell them to not talk about their work.”

They waited a few more minutes, just to be sure, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Finnean headed back to the spaceport and Lachlan… Lachlan had some investigating to do. He needed to find the leak and plug it.

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
On board Ol'Reliable
10/16/833

---

“…so the mole’s been dealt with. He was just some rather low ranking distributor. Got sloppy, battons nabbed him and he sang like a bird. He didn’t know much but he was rather nosey and figured out someone important will be in Ye Olde Dame so he came up with a story about cardamine. Figured out battons will search the whole place and find whatever was happening there. Why he thought that would help him is beyond me.”

Lachlan’s image sighed from the screen, then continued.

“We cut him off of course and changed the routes and signals, so the situation is contained, but I’ll have to re-evaluate how we bring people in. Someone like him shouldn’t have slipped through the cracks. We got lucky this time, might not be the next. Otherwise, business is going just fine, though we really could use more supplies. I know, I know, that’s not going to happen unless we find more pilots, but one can dream, right Safe flight, Brother.”

The recording froze. Finn pondered his brother’s words for a while. He had a distinct impression Lachlan is keeping something from him and that troubled him. Lachlan did that several times in the past, always when trying to protect his brother, so Finn couldn’t help but wonder what Lachlan was not telling him now. But there was nothing he could do about it now, so he closed the message. He briefly checked the other encrypted channels, but there was nothing new in them. Deterrence was silent so far, but they were always an elusive bunch so he didn’t have high hopes about that channel. He closed the terminal, stretched out a bit and checked the clock. It was about the right time for dinner so he got up and headed to the mess hall.

Much to his surprise, he found Sheena there, munching on something unfamiliar to him. She waved when she noticed him, so he picked a pre-packed meal, heated it up and joined her at the table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the bridge?” he asked her, while struggling with the packaging of his dinner.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but Collin wanted to take the watch so I swapped with him.”

“Collin? Why would he want a graveyard shift, he hates those?”

“Sure does, but it’s this time of year.”

Finn gave her a puzzled look at first, but then he remembered. “Right, the Tau-31 incident, how could I forget?”

Sheena hesitated for a moment. “Well, given what happened soon after, it’s not that surprising.”

The conversation went silent. What happened “after” was not something people from bretonia liked to speak about. Glassing of Leeds was a heavy topic.

Sheena finally broke the silence. “Sorry, didn’t want to kill the mood, it’s just…” she trailed off.

“Yeah, I know. How about a different topic?”

She smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. I’m dying to hear about your little adventure down on the planet.”

Finn rolled his eyes in a theatrical fashion. “Gossip really travels faster than light, huh. How do you know ‘anything’ happened at all?”

“Oh please,” she chuckled, “you just confirmed it. I didn’t know anything, but you returned sooner than you said you would and you had that serious expression on your face.”

Finn winced. “Damn it. You baited me and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.”

Sheena just smiled and patiently waited. Finn gave it a quick though an then he shrugged and pushed away the now empty packageing from his dinner.

“All right, I’ll tell you. But you'll be disappointed. Someone tipped off battons about my and Lachlan’s meeting, so we got the hell out. Turns out it was just some low ranking mook who happened to guess something’s happening at the place. When he got nabbed by the law, he tried to use the information as a bargaining chip.”

“You’re right, I am dissapointed. I was hoping for something more… I don’t know, action packed. Oh well, I guess life isn’t like in the movies.”

Finn grinned. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. But you…”

Sharp buzz from the intercom interrupted him.

“Boss? You there boss?”

Finn pushed the receiving button. “I am, Collin, is everything alright?”

“I don’t know, boss. I mean, no one is shooting at us, so no worries there, but we’re almost at Barker’s and their quartermaster tells me they can’t take the sake.”

“Did he say why?”

“Afraid not, boss. He says it’s nice of us to bring it, but he unfortunately can’t take it off our hands. Something about not having the space allocated for it or something.”

“Ok, I’ll be there in a minute. Ask him if they at least let us dock, I don’t want to hover in the middle of an ice cloud.”

“Will do, boss.”

Fin turned back to Sheena and stood up. “Well, looks like our conversation is over, got another crisis to solve.”

She grinned and shooed him away with her favourite gesture. “No worries, boss. I’ve still got some things to do anyway, might as well get to it. You go hande your crisis."

Finn just laughed, tossed the package to the recycling bin and left the mess hall.