Chapter 11 - The Pirate Lord of the Strythan Nebula

Somewhere in Hyperspace

In Transit Between Sirius and Lentan

Monday, 17 September 3488

            Aves checked his instruments, the ship’s heads-up display indicating that they had roughly another hour and fifteen minutes until jump-in at their destination. With a grunt, he threw his head back against the headrest of the narrow pilot’s chair. He had been cramped up into this tight starfighter for nearly twelve hours by that point, unable to get more than a scattered thirty minutes of bad sleep.

            “Damned Unionites and their damned fighters,” He muttered, trying to shift his legs into a more comfortable position. The Jupiter VX-25 “Arrowhead” – nicknamed such due to its distinctive body shape, resembling the pre-industrial weapon of war – had a legendary reputation when it came to its battle prowess, having been the starfighter used to defeat both the superior number and superior reflexes of the Ruutharii Ascendancy’s Navy during the war. Admittedly faster and nimbler than anything the Talosians had on-hand, Aves could acknowledge that objectively the starfighter was an impressive piece of machinery. That impressiveness ended abruptly, however, when one considered the amenities and comfort aspects of the fighter. Built first and foremost as a quick strike craft, Jupiter Shipyards hadn’t considered the idea of the Arrowhead being seriously used for long-distance travel. While it was equipped with an impressive jumpdrive – a luxury that most starfighter manufacturers avoided due to the cost – Aves couldn’t imagine anyone other than the most well-trained special forces operative seriously considering its use to make any trip longer than a quick short-distance jump or two.

            At that thought, Aves directed his attention to outside the cockpit canopy, to the only other object present in the black void that was hyperspace. It was a second Arrowhead with the same blue-striped Union Navy colors, the overhead light on inside the cockpit. There sat Tobias, what little Aves could make up of his features seeming just as content as that special forces operative that he imagined. Aves scoffed. “Enjoying yourself over there?”

            There was no response as he saw Tobias still staring down at something in his lap, the momentary shift in his figure revealing the barely-discernable edges of a book – one of those real paper books that only libraries, museums, and religious types still carried. Sure enough, the minute-long silence ended when the former Azure Squad soldier crossed himself, closing the book. “Let me guess,” Aves said. “Lauds?” He privately grinned, feeling that he was starting to understand the strange rhythm of the seven-times-a-day Divine Office prayers that some members of the crew engaged in. Xanthe always nagged him to attend their communal evening Vespers session, to which he had yet to agree.

            “Terce, actually.” Tobias replied.

            Aves’ expression turned into a frown. “Midmorning prayers?” He asked. “What time is it?”

            “Well, that depends on what you’re synchronized to.” Tobias replied. “It’s a little after 10 in the morning Novaterra standard time.”

            Aves rubbed his face. Computing the time, especially as they traveled through hyperspace, still wasn’t a skill he was adept at. “And I still haven’t gotten a good bit of sleep.” At that point, he saw the jump-in timer cross the hour mark.

“You’ve sampled the Arrowhead’s bunking conditions, I presume?” Tobias asked.

            Aves grumbled. He again shifted, only displacing the soreness from his lower back to his shoulder blades. The seat could recline backwards into a lying-down position, but even that wasn’t in the least bit comfortable. “You call this bunking? There’s barely any padding on this seat.”

            “Hey, be happy that Vess was able to dig up two VX-25’s in good condition; imagine trying to make a trip in one of those cramped Centauri Pentthell’s.”

            Aves winced. “If that was the case, I think I’d rather make the trip in the full vacuum of space.” Tobias laughed. The Centauri Pentthell, Proximan-made starfighters, were built as small as the beings who were meant to occupy it. There was no way to get a full Human inside unless that Human was a professional contortionist. Or they were missing their lower half. “If I had a few hours heads-up, I probably would have been able to find us a pair of Athenan Thunderbirds.”

            “I can’t even imagine there’s too many of those left on the open market. Aren’t your countrymen busy smashing most of the supply against each other in that little civil war of yours?” Tobias pointed out.

            Aves was quick to jump on that one. “Don’t you start with that democracy business. I’ve had to deal with Xanthe all night, had to crawl through a vent to escape a nightclub, got chased halfway around that bloody factory district by a pair of assassins, got accosted by cops, and I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. I’m not in the mood.”

            Tobias turned a glance on him from across the space between the two ships and raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. Truce?”

            “For the time being.” Aves grit out. He let that hang a moment, then added: “Tell me about this Callahan Vorknor guy. I’ve been reading what little the Senate databases have on him, but I know you all know him pretty well. And crossed him, apparently.” 

            “We’ve met him several times before,” Tobias corrected. “Vorknor has been in the game a while, and the Captain knew him from her past.”

            “When she was an assassin, you mean?” Aves asked. The idea that Judith Rigby had been anything other than a cool, mild-mannered, and shrewd woman of God was still an uncomfortable thought, even though all – including the Captain herself – seemed at peace with this reality.

            “Yeah,” Tobias replied. “I don’t know too much about their interactions back then, but I first met Vorknor a few years back, in the early years of the Nicodemus crew. At that time it was just the Captain, Father Thomas, Theck and I, and we had narrowly slipped out of a Ruutharii ambush near the border with the Parfful Confederacy. We had to calculate jump coordinates pretty fast, and the uninhabited system we arrived at had apparently been a staging ground for one of Vorknor’s operations. We got to talking, the Captain worked her charm, and he helped us restock our supplies, replenish our fuel, and get the hell out of there.”

            “And the rest of the times?”

            “Well,” Tobias began, a noticeable hesitation coming to his voice. “Let’s just say our intervening interactions had ranged from amiable to hostile, and every emotion in-between. We tried surreptitiously turning him in a few times, though the Union managed to screw it up each time. I don’t think he knows about it.”

            Aves’ frowned. “So, you’re saying you don’t know if he’ll be looking to blast us into slag when we show up?” He recalled the mention of the crew’s last run-in with Vorknor, where they had intercepted and destroyed a convoy of the pernicious glitterdust drug.

            “Right,” Tobias replied. “But if it’s any consolation, Rigby and Vorknor may not be friends, but they do have an unspoken agreement that any issues are settled in open battle. So presumably he’ll let us get our wits about us before vaporizing us.”

            “It isn’t any consolation,” Aves said, sourly. He sneered. “These pirate scum are all the same. As soon as your back’s turned, they won’t hesitate to run a blade through your gut. My family’s dealt with their kind for years; there’s no honor there.”

            “You’d be surprised,” Tobias countered. “It may not be ‘honor among thieves’, but there is a strange decorum that dictates what can and cannot be done in places like this.”

            Aves scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” He tightened his jaw. “What’s that prayer you guys always say before we charge into some foolhardy situation?”

            “Do you mean the St. Michael Prayer, or the prayer to Our Lady of Victory?”

            “Both,” Aves answered. “I’ll take all of the help we can get.” He leaned back in his chair as Tobias began reciting both for his benefit. The jumpdrive’s countdown had just passed the forty-minute mark, and Aves did an automatic check of all his systems and diagnostics, confirming that everything was still in the green. Tobias had moved on from the first two prayers to a series of the standard Ave Maria, and Aves took the time to try and focus his mind, collating all of the information he’d gathered on Callahan Vorknor until this point.

            The limited Senate dossier read just about as well as Aves could have imagined of someone who called themselves ‘pirate lord’. Wanted on a whole slew of charges – kidnapping and drug smuggling just the two specifically mentioned by name – the man had been pursued by Union, Talosian, and Quorth forces, none of which had been able to capture him. The various report snippets gave an assortment of excuses for this – superior forces, location, and the like – yet it seemed that this Vorknor had been allowed to do his dirty work for nearly two decades, outwitting all three militaries every time. Having spent several years working to clean piracy up the Imperial border sectors with the Talosian Rangers, Aves knew all-to-well that corruption and bribery were almost assuredly other reasons for this Vorknor’s long reign of terror. If what Tobias had said was true and Vorknor still reigned despite the best efforts of Judith Rigby, then he definitely had some highly-placed contacts working to shield him from capture.

            Tobias finished his verbal prayers and a period of silence came over the two, Aves slowly found himself starting to nod off, the welcome embrace of sleep which had thus far eluded him finally coming upon him. This was only to be a brief respite, however, as he wasn’t sure how long he had been out when a sudden beeping began coming from the starfighter’s computer. Aves snapped awake, instinct ready for some danger, before he saw the indicator blinking in time with the beeping. It was the jump-drive’s five-minute warning. Aves groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. “And I was just starting to get some sleep.”

            “My coordinates are still on track,” Tobias announced with a military clip to his voice, ignoring that last comment. “Have there been any deviation in yours?”

            Aves checked his main monitor. Save some sort of catastrophic issue with his jumpdrive, the computer was shackled to Tobias’ own and would mimic those jump-in coordinates. Thus, the question was a mere formality. “Same here, copy.” He answered, using the cadence of an ensign replying to his commanding officer.

            When one initiated a hyperspace jump, a specific set of pre-determined coordinates were configured, indicating a location in the destination system. Depending on the distance and capabilities of the jumpdrive, the drive would automatically calculate the fastest possible route, along with intermediate systems it may need to stop in for recharge or refuel. While one moved through hyperspace, the jumpdrive computer was constantly pinging the next destination, trying to identify if anything solid – such as a drifting planet, asteroid, or other ship – occupied the position. If not, then the jump was good. If so, it was standard for the jumpdrive to edit the coordinates little-by-little until it found a clear region of open space to eject the ship. This specific jump into the Strythan Nebula was a bit tricker, as the composition of the dust and gasses which made up the mists were known to foul up the drive if one didn’t use a very specific set of coordinates. They couldn’t afford any deviation, lest they may end this trip either as a flattened piece of metal at the bottom of a crater, or as decaying corpses lost forever in deep space.

            Aves flicked a couple of switches and placed his flight helmet back on. “Zealot-3, this is Zealot-7. Do you read me?” He asked, switching his aural communications from a long-range frequency to the standard starfighter short-range.

            “Copy that, Seven.” Came Tobias’ voice slightly less clear than it had been, a consequence of the frequency. “What is the status of your weapons and shields?”

            “Currently disabled,” Aves replied. “All power is directed to the jumpdrive.” As was standard hyperspace procedure, he didn’t need to add.

            “I’d get both cranked up,” Tobias instructed.

            “Won’t that increase the time it’ll take before jump-out?” Aves asked. Any decrease in the amount of power to the jumpdrive would mean it would take longer before they reached the necessary point to revert to real space, and the last thing this trip needed was more time.

            “It’ll take another ten minutes, tops with the Arrowhead’s systems.” Tobias replied. “We’re about to jump into one of only a few active space lanes to Lentan. Vorknor will definitely be watching.” Tobias didn’t need to finish that thought.

            “What happened to ‘decorum’ and all of that?” Aves asked, reaching first for the shields switch.

            “One can’t be too careful.”

            Aves grinned. Despite his talk, he knew Tobias didn’t trust Vorknor any more than he did. “Copy that, Three.” He flicked the switch for the shields. Outside his viewport he momentarily saw the ghost of a blue oval begin to form around his starfighter, before disappearing completely. That was the shield, invisible until struck. Next, he flicked the switch for the weapons system, a hum of energy echoing through the fighter’s hull to the twin laser cannons, mounted on either side of the cockpit. Sure enough, the activation of both systems increased their jump-in time to twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds, exactly ten minutes more than it had previously stated. “Your accuracy is uncanny,” Aves commented.

            “I like to think I know the VX-25 about as well as anything,” Tobias replied. “I’ve flown nearly a dozen fighters and clocked over a thousand hours of fly-time, and most of that was with the ol’ Arrowhead.” He spoke as someone who clearly loved the starfighter, a love which the past fourteen hours hadn’t exactly enkindled in Aves’ heart. As they again neared the five-minute mark, the expected indicator began warning them of jump in. Coordinates were still good, so no impediment came when the countdown reached zero.

            Aves watched as Tobias’ fighter began to rock gently from side-to-side, entering the jumpdrive’s disengagement period a full five seconds before Aves’ fighter mimicked the movement. His engines whined with decreased ferocity as the black void directly in front of him began to become a shimmer of light. Barely more than a pinprick at first, it quickly grew to become the size of a small distant star. This brought with it that uncomfortable yet familiar feeling of a pull at Aves’ stomach, as his body was yanked from FTL to real space. Any hyperspace-capable ship came with inertial dampers to mitigate the huge forces at work; however, no machinery had yet been able to completely negate the effect. It had taken Aves many flights to get used to the feeling, though by now the sensation – something like a cross between a sudden drop and bad indigestion – was practically second nature.

            Aves placed his hands into the two control sockets in front of him, balling his hands into fists. That gave him complete control over the fighter, allowing him to move it in whichever direction he moved his hands.

            Straight ahead the ever-growing light continued to expand, and a dull rainbow tunnel of color stretched out from it. Tobias’ fighter suddenly shot forward and immediately out of sight, as he reverted to real space. Since Tobias had initiated the jump and Aves had shackled his jumpdrive to Tobias’, it was expected that he would be a few seconds behind. Sure enough, one second later, one final tug came to his stomach as the starfighter shot forward and into real space, the rainbow tunnel vanishing as several planetary bodies shot into focus around him. His comms channel crackled back to life with the very end of Tobias’ Ave Maria prayer.

            “Took you long enough,” He commented.

            Aves grinned. “You afraid I was getting ricocheted across hyperspace?” Hyperspace travel was statistically one of the safest ways to travel, yet accidents could and did happen. Aves had heard one too many stories back at the Talosian Academy about wingmen getting separated on jump-in due to drive malfunctions, the stranded pilot stuck in hyperspace until the jump drive gave out, spitting them out into places unknown.

            “You never know.”

            Aves brought his starfighter into a standard phalanx formation – military parlance for side-by-side configuration – and took a look at their new surroundings. “This is the place where Callahan Vorknor hangs out?” In their immediate front were two large, rocky moons. One was gray and pockmarked, looking not unlike the one which orbited Old Terra. The second moon – the one on the rightmost side of their view – had the same surface, however had been shattered apart by some sort of celestial event, leaving a large chunk of its left side strewn all about the open space between the two moons.

            Straight ahead – through the gap between the moons and partially obscured by the debris of the second – was the planet of Lentan itself, a spring-green colored orb whose thick atmospheric clouds obscured any view of the surface below.     

            “This is it,” Tobias confirmed. “And it looks like we’re alone for the time being.”

            Aves did two scans of the area – first on the Arrowhead’s scanners, which read nothing in their immediate proximity, and the second a visual scan of the area. He didn’t see anything moving save the typical slow drift of the celestial debris, however Aves could pick out more than one place where danger could be lying in wait. The most obvious place was the large crater in the second moon where the asteroid field had been created, crater a shadowy ocean across the surface of the moon thanks to its angle from the system’s sun. Next there were any of the asteroid bits themselves, large enough to hide a powered-down starfighter on their opposite side.

            A crackle came to his ear as Tobias spoke. “This is Strike Force Zealot, looking for clearance to land planetside. Please advise.” Aves guessed that his companion had opened the public comms channel, where anyone in the near vicinity would be able to pick him up.

            “You sure it’s a good idea to announce ourselves like that?” Aves asked. “I see at least fifteen different place we could be ambushed from.”

            “This is how Vorknor does business.” Tobias explained, on their private channel. “Like I was saying before we jumped in, I have no doubt someone already knows we’re here. So long as we put all of our cards on the table as soon as we arrive, then he probably won’t try and shoot us down.”

            “Key word, ‘probably’,” Aves sigh. No response continued to come on the open channel, and all scanners and visual markers were still quiet.

            Tobias put out another hail over the open channel. “I repeat, this is Zealot-3 of Strike Force Zealot. We have approval from the Master of the House to approach, we just need a landing vector.”

            Aves rolled his eyes at the ridiculous moniker. “I take it ‘Master of the House’ is Vorknor’s quaint little callsign. How unpretentious.” They drifted closer to the first vestiges of the second moon’s ruins, but still nothing so much as shifted. Aves did another check on his scanners and was about to look away when he caught a small dot begin winking on his board. “I got something. Opposite side of that intact moon.”

            “Copy that, I see it too,” Tobias confirmed. He returned to the open channel. “I repeat, this is Zealot-3…”

            “We read you, Zealot-3.” Came back a harsh, feminine voice. The tone and gruff register told them it was from a Parfful. “State the reason for your visit.” This second part was markedly more suspicious. Aves watched for any movement in the moon’s debris field – a sudden shift against the direction of asteroid flow or the lights of an engine – but none came. On his board, what was initially a small blip turned into something much bigger. “I’m guessing they have a space station over there.” He said.

            “We’re here on private business, looking for your boss’s help with a personal matter. Check with him, he’ll confirm that.” Tobias answered the woman.

            There was a long, pregnant pause, presumably as the comms officer checked with someone higher-up in Vorknor’s organization. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice returned. “The Boss says he’s got a lot of business going on, he doesn’t quite recall this matter. He says it would be best if you returned sometime next week.”

            “Of course he doesn’t ‘remember’,” Aves shot back on their private channel. “Haetchfwerr.”

            Tobias sigh. “Tell the Boss that’s not good enough, and that he knows exactly what we’re looking for. He spoke with my boss barely twelve hours ago. Does ‘Starlancer’ ring a bell?”

            Another pause. They were in the debris belt now, and Aves’ scanners had moved from detecting just the station to detecting the active ships attached to it. “There’s at least fifteen fighter-sizes ships which are active. Naturally that doesn’t include anything that’s currently cold.” Ships only emanated electromagnetic signatures when powered on, thus any ship currently in cold-shutdown mode wouldn’t appear on the board.  

            “Try switching from electromagnetic to physical,” Tobias instructed. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll give you an estimation of what currently-powered down ships are attached to the station.”

            “This thing can do that?” Aves asked, amazed.

            “It’s the third switch under the monitor.”

            Aves located the indicated switch, and indeed the scanners swapped to just that functionality, something he had assumed was only present on anything the size of a frigate or larger.

            “They don’t call this thing the best for nothing.” Tobias reminded him.

            “We’re looking at about thirty ships all-told. Most are fighter sized, but four are freighters.” Aves replied.

            The comms officer’s voice returned to the open channel. “The Boss says that in the time since he spoke with Starlancer, he’s reassessed his desire to get involved.”

            Aves grumbled. “Reassessed, has he?”

            “Then tell your boss that Starlancer knows about a few of his recent dealings which might be of interest to the Union security services. I believe there’s one weapons deal, which was arranged on Ventil IX, which involved giving weapons to a specific separatist organization known as…”

            “Strike Force Zealot, you’re cleared to land on-planet,” Came the interruption from the suddenly harried comms officer. Almost immediately, coordinates to a destination on the planet’s surface appeared on their monitors.

            “Thank you kindly. Zealot-3 out.” Tobias’ thrusters lit up with an increase in speed, as he made his way towards the destination. Aves was quick to mimic the move in order to stay in formation.

            “That got them moving,” Aves commented. “The Captain going to keep that arms deal a secret?”

            He imagined Tobias’ shrug. “Doubtful. She’s probably already given FedSec the tipoff.”  

            “Hopefully they don’t act until we’re out of here,” Aves commented, as the two starfighters roared through the remnants of the broken moon. While most of the larger pieces of space rock were easy to maneuver around, some of the smaller bits were unavoidable, and began crashing against the shields of the ship. The blue energy field, normally invisible, sputtered to life as the rocks and dust hit it, showing exactly where the impacts came.

            “Good call on shields,” Aves commented. “It may not be a hostile fighter force, but this debris would shred up any unshielded ship.”

            They eventually came out of the rock field, the full green marble of Lentan laid out before them. A holographic marker appeared on the front cockpit window, giving the illusion that the marker had been painted directly in space itself, indicating where on the planet they were to land. They were several hundred thousand klicks out, roughly a ten-minute ride at their current speed.

            “There’s the station,” Tobias commented. Aves too saw what he did: now they had a good view on the planet-facing side of the intact moon. Amongst the asteroids and debris, a small space station sat floating in open space. A ring slowly revolved counterclockwise around the middle section of the station, all manners of aftermarket fighters and light freighters attached to it. A low tone from Aves’ scanners indicated four of the fighters, as they detached and began making their way towards the two Arrowheads.

            “We have incoming,” Aves announced. While the approach vector of the four ships wasn’t in a combat formation, he checked the status of his weapons all the same.

            “Looks like our welcoming party,” Tobias commented, as the open comms channel flared to life.

            “Zealot-3, this is Skybase. The Boss has decided that your ascent to the planet should be directed by escort. Please hold position until our fighter wing reaches you.” The comms officer instructed.

            “It seems Vorknor doesn’t want us skulking around too much down there.” Aves commented.  

            “Keep your wits about you.” Tobias agreed.

            “Copy that, Three.”

            Tobias’ next response was to the space station: “Acknowledged, Skybase.” It took little time for the four fighters to reach them, surrounding them in a box formation. Two came up on either side of their forward flank, followed by the other two behind.

            Aves did a partial visual scan, allowing his computer to complete the work his eyes couldn’t. “Two old Wrethann’s, outfitted with Orion II’s.” He announced, referring to the two at front. The Quorthwenne-made Wrethann fighters were slow yet cheap, with a decent resale value that made them great for small operations like this. In order to mitigate the fighter’s slow, lumbering speed which was a consequence of the large cockpit meant for a crew of up to four, the stock engines had been replaced with sleek Orion IIs of Centauri Star Yards make.

            “And the others look like…” Tobias paused, as he studied them. “One of the old Jupiter VX-22’s, along with a scraptrap.” Aves automatically grimaced as he turned to see if his wingman’s description had been accurate. Sure enough, he recognized the haphazard shape and nearly unidentifiable outline of what in common star pilot parlance was known as a “scraptrap”. A haphazard cobbling together of a number of different fighter components, the ship resembled no single fighter, thus remaining without official designation. They were commonly the passion projects of ambitious pilots and amateur tinkerers without the imagination to craft anything truly unique or functional. Since the term was a catch-all it was difficult to compile proper statistics on scraptraps, but some estimated that the junkyard craft came with a near-80% failure rate.

            This scraptrap contained the round ball cockpit of a Murman D-class, with four long engines mounted on its rear. Three of the four engines were Jupiter VX engines, while the fourth was a much smaller engine of a Pentthell. This mismatch caused the ship to jink and jitter awkwardly. 

            “There’s no way that thing is going to survive the trip to the surface,” Aves commented, watching the scraptrap wobble under its own weight.

            “You want to bet on that?” Tobias asked. Aves was considering it when their comms crackled. 

            “Please stay in formation, we will be leading you down to the planet,” Came a young and accented male voice. The computer indicated that he was in the leftmost Wrethann.

            “Any resistance or deviation will be met with immediate destruction. Boss’s orders.” Added another voice, this one markedly more hostile, coming from the VX-22.  

            “I’d like to see them try,” Aves muttered, darkly. He could imagine Tobias’ conspiratorial grin.

             “Lead on,” His wingman said to the pirates.

            Their escort kept them largely on the same trajectory as they had been heading. The purple icon drawn on the cockpit window grew closer and closer, as the distance counter steadily decreased. All the while Aves kept his eyes fixed on the scanners, watching for any other sort of trouble which may be coming their way. So far, so good, as it seemed the pirates were going to let them continue for the time being.

            As their starfighter reached the atmosphere, their optical vision became obstructed by the thick clouds which surrounded Lentan. The fighter to Aves’ right – the Wrethann furthest from his vision – went in and out of view, but the escort wing kept them on the same trajectory. Aves craned his head just enough to catch sight of Tobias in his own cockpit, the two trading the same expression. This would be the perfect place for a trap.

            Their sensors were still silent, which meant that one wasn’t imminent if planned, but Aves sat uneasy all the way through the cloud-cover regardless. It wasn’t until they broke through to the rocky, overcast planet below that he allowed himself to breathe a bit easier.

            Before them the surface of the planet stretched on for as far as could be seen, jagged mountain ranges intersected with glassy green seas and the occasional flat, rocky outcroppings just wide enough to land a small frigate with some space to spare. In the distance several of the tallest mountains oozed a thick layer of volcanic smoke into the light gray of the atmosphere, which helped give the planet its thick cloud cover. No habitations were visible as far as the eye could see, cementing this place as a perfect location for an elusive pirate to hide. The holographic marker was indicating one particularly spire-like mountain nestled at the far-side of the nearest green ocean, and as Aves, Tobias, and the pirate escort neared it, their first proof of sapient life on planet began to come into view.

            Nestled on a single large plateau jutting out from the side of the tall mountain sat a metallic gathering of structures, all surrounded with a thick wall not unlike the walls of an ancient castle. The holographic marker centered on one of several flat landing platforms which ran along the top of the walls, half protruding out over a precipitous drop down to the sea below. The landing pad they were indicated to land on was empty and had enough room for perhaps four starfighters total. Most of the others were currently occupied, Aves eyeing not only more of Vorknor’s assorted fighters, but also small freighters and cargo haulers, many of them in the midst of being loaded with crates by groupings of beings. From the assortment of markings on the craft, some belonged to the pirate lord, while many had outside affiliations.

            “Your boss’s operations looks particularly busy today,” Tobias commented on the open channel.

            “You are open to land on the designated landing pad,” Came the voice of the young man, ignoring Tobias comment. “Please wait on the pad for the Boss to greet you.”

            “You all must be preparing for something big,” Tobias commented again, “There a Talosian treasure fleet you’re looking to hit?”

            “Very funny,” Aves shot back, privately. “There’s no way that even with all of these goons they’d be able to hit something as well-defended as a treasure fleet.”

            “I’d keep to yourself if I were you,” Responded the unfriendly voice, whom Aves had come to imagine as a gnarled, nasty looking man. “The Boss likes to play nice with guests, but accidents have been known to happen.”

            “I doubt our friends would take too kindly to news of our untimely demise,” Tobias countered.

            “Please engage your landing procedures now,” Instructed the young man, keeping his business-like tone. “The Boss will be up shortly.”

            “Copy that. Over and out, escort.” Tobias replied as they brought their starfighters in for landing on the open pad. The flight of four pirate escorts continued to streak by overhead, angling back up towards the atmosphere. The scraptrap kept up as well as it could, its mismatched engines sputtering under the ship’s uneven power distribution.

            “Damn,” Tobias said. “I should have taken your bet.”

            Aves didn’t respond as he flicked the switch for the anti-grav thrusters, allowing the ship to hover overhead the platform as it slowly descended to the surface. When the fighter had landed, Aves ran through the standard shutdown procedures and removed his flight helmet. He unbuckled his harness and hit the quick release for the fighter’s canopy, which hissed intensely as it slid open. He got out on the side opposite the door leading into Vorknor’s base.

            “I see at least six different places from where a sniper can easily take us out,” Aves commented, once they were both standing on the deck of the landing pad. He and Tobias were hugging close to their VX-25’s, having landed in a particular formation to maximize the amount of cover they had, yet were still as exposed as ever on the wide-open pad. Across the edges of the pad was a several-meter gap between their pad and the next ones. To their left were a dozen pirates seemingly unaffiliated with Vorknor’s crew, working to load their cargo ship. To their right was a squad of the pirate lord’s own flyers, running pre-flight diagnostics on their craft.

            “I see ten,” Tobias confirmed.

            They waited for what felt like an eternity, before there came movement at the small shack-like structure at the head of the landing pad. The two doors slid aside, revealing an entire entourage of figures which began stepping out into the light.

            “Our welcoming party?” Aves whispered to Tobias. His hand fell to his side, where sword and pistol were close at hand.

Tobias squinted, nodding after a moment. “Vorknor.”

            The first two that stepped out of the doors weren’t people but two drones, humanoid-shaped robots cobbled together about as haphazardly as the starfighters which had escorted them here. Both were of the nearly two-decade-old F series of Union make, bodies casted in pure titanium in the shape of the average bipedal mammalian. Both legs of the original F-series were intact, as was the torso and a single arm, however the right arm of one and left arm of the other had been replaced with the auto-repeater apparatus of a G-series Enforcer. The G-series arm was nearly double the size of the opposite, its innards and weapons exposed on account of the lack of titanium plating. Aves posited that the weight of the arm with titanium plating would have collapsed the frame of the drone, hence its removal. The head of both drones also weren’t stock F-series, instead sporting battle-worn heads of Ruutharii Theta-1’s. This model had been the Ruutharii Ascendancy’s primary battle drone during the Galactic War, coming into wide use abroad after many had been discarded during the Ascendancy’s retreat. Both heads were cast in the form of Ruutharii males, long metallic horns jutting out of large heads, with two luminous yellow eyes not too different from the species’ own eyes. Both drones came out of the elevator and came to a stop several meters away, turning to face each other and make a path for the rest of the entourage.

            The next two were sapients, both mid-height men. One was a Dorylaetian and the other a surprisingly-short Drayen. They each carried rifles, both the aged but reliable Type 3477 once popular in the Imperial Navy. They came to a stop a half-meter from the drones, also facing each other to make a path for the next two guards to step out, both Humans, one male and the other female. These two stopped in a rough line with the others, facing the same direction.

            Aves crossed his arms and snorted. “What’s this, some sort of military drill? This Vorknor really does have a high opinion of himself, doesn’t he?” He asked. “Their posture is awful and they aren’t even holding their weapons at the same angle. This looks like something my nephews would do trying to play army.”

            “You’re right-on with that first part, though I’ll defer to you on the second. It’s been a while since I’ve participated in color-guard duties.” Tobias replied.

            “And here comes the commander himself.” Aves indicated the elevator, where four more figures exited. The first was taller than the one next to it, the former male and latter female. The tall one Aves guessed was the “pirate lord” himself, Callahan Vorknor. Badly sunburnt and face riddled with scars – both of a battle nature as well as the remnants of what must have been several different diseases – the man wore a weathered Talosian captain’s hat and custom-made uniform of his own. He sauntered down the line made by his bodyguards with all of the military grace a man without a single day of military training could muster.

            “Unbelievable,” Aves muttered. “What a…” He stopped suddenly, as he took note of the second Human – the woman – who walked side-by-side with the pirate lord, arms locked together. This fair-faced beauty was probably at least fifteen years younger than the pirate himself, with the warm skin tone and tight posture which Aves immediately recognized as Talosian. She walked with a confident gait; her small lips curved into a somewhat innocent grin which gave off the air of a sweet, dutiful young Talosian noblewoman.

            “Who’s she?” Aves whispered to Tobias, unable to hide the hint of interest which seeped into his voice. Aves couldn’t help but stare, the girl’s presence served as a stark contrast to all of the rough and dangerous types surrounding her.

            “That’s Zygerra Mashiyo, Vorknor’s girlfriend and second-in-command.” Tobias explained.

            That broke through Aves’ spellbound gaze enough to allow him to turn a raised eyebrow on Tobias. “Second-in-command?” He asked, disbelievingly. One last look at the pretty woman and he didn’t see a hint of anything that could indicate her as an active participant in all of this. He tried to place her surname to any of the noble families he was familiar with but didn’t recognize it.

            Tobias nodded. “She’s not all that she seems. Be careful around her.” Vorknor and Mashiyo were swiftly making their way down the path laid out by their color guard, the final two figures being two more bodyguard drones cobbled together not unlike the first two.

            “Tobias Napht,” Came cruel sounding sneer from the tall pirate lord. A casual smile came to his face. “It’s been too long.” The entourage was close to them now, and any lingering thoughts in Aves’ mind vanished as he prepared for some sort of danger.

            Tobias grinned. “Not long enough, Callahan,” He replied. “Last time we saw you in person, you were trying to blast us across the surface of Mephibosheth.” Aves forced his expression neutral, Tobias having neglected to mention that one.

            The smile only widened as the pirate came to stop just in front of them. “A terrible misunderstanding, I’m sure,” He said. “My client seemed to think that you stole his shipment.”

            Tobias shrugged. “I wonder where he could have gotten such an idea.”

            “Whichever place he also got the idea that you turned him and his product over to Union forces, I reckon.” Vorknor countered.

            Aves looked to his crewmate, getting the man’s casual dismissive expression. Knowing Tobias as well as he did and also having some perspective on the subterfuge the Nicodemus crew pulled on Vorknor in the past, Aves figured that Vorknor’s accusation was closer to the truth than not. “Don’t believe everything you read on the GalaxyNet, Callahan.”

            The pirate’s dark eyes narrowed. “Funny that a lot of my friends seem to end up in Entente prisons after having run-ins with your crew.”

            “You’re still running free,” Tobias extended his arms and waved them about their surroundings. “And it looks like you’re doing well for yourself.” Vorknor eyed him with a hard stare, as if trying to penetrate some imagined barrier.

            Aves looked at the pirate’s alleged second-in-command, surprised to find her staring right at him. Her gaze was that of a nervous young woman, her eyes shyly lingering on someone who struck her interest, yet there was no flash in her eyes when Aves caught on. She continued to stare, penetrating him in a way which he found alluring, and it was all he could do to keep his breath caught in his throat, not allowing it to escape his mouth and reveal this inner feeling. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she flashed a smile and moved her gaze away.

            “Now, are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?” Tobias continued, addressing the pirate lord. “I believe you agreed to meet us at Captain Rigby’s request.” That seemed to snap Vorknor out of his thought.

            “Yeah, I did agree to meet with ol’ Starlancer, but I notice she must have been too busy, and instead sent lackeys.” His eyes then fell to Aves for the first time. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He pointed to the weapon hanging at Aves’ waist. “Talosian, I take it?”

            Xanthe’s usual commentary on the sword point echoed in Aves ears, which had the added effect of sobering him up from his encounter with Mashiyo. He nodded slowly. “Garrick Aves.” He said, only taking the pirate’s outstretched hand upon getting the ‘affirmative’ nod from Tobias.

            “Garrick Aves, eh?” Vorknor repeated, as if trying out how the name sounded. He pierced Aves with his intense stare, a common intimidation technique which had little effect on the Talosian. Aves’ own father was the master of such stares, and Hiro Takayama was much more intimidating than this Vorknor. The pirate made another motion at Aves’ waist. “You one of those…eh…what do they call ‘em?”

            “Kantsukai,” Wafted out a cool female voice. It was Mashiyo, standing just behind and to Vorknor’s right. She still held that sweet visage, speaking as one who had a deep familiarity with the subject. Definitely of Talosian noble origin. “They’re the protectors of Talosian tradition. Heavily trained in melee combat, they serve their noble houses with distinction and honor.” It read nearly like a simple textbook explanation of the order.

            “Kahn-sookay.” Vorknor repeated, massacring the pronunciation. His eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard of them. I’ve also heard that where they go, Imperial forces aren’t too far behind.” At that insinuation, Aves caught the shifting of a few of the guards behind Vorknor.

            Aves forced his best roguish grin. “Who’s to say I didn’t just kill one of them and keep their sword?” He drew the weapon a few centimeters out of its sheathe, just enough for those assembled to catch the shine in the metal. “It’s a pretty nice blade. Goes a long way to earn you a few points of respect.”

            Vorknor seemed to seriously consider that. “Seems like an interesting story worth telling,” He said. “How does one best an honorable, well-trained swordsman and live to take his weapon?”

            Aves did everything he could to keep the annoyance at the pirate’s questions from seeping through his countenance. Instead he shrugged, pulling his trusty Hephaestus Type 88 out of its holster. Several of the pirate’s bodyguards, already itchy at the insinuation of a spy in their midst, began to eye him carefully and thumb their weapons, but Aves was quick to raise both hands and hold his pistol by the barrel, clearly not intending to use it. “A sword doesn’t do you much good when your opponent is fourteen meters away.” Again, the unwelcome memory of the previous night’s trouble reminded him all-to-well of that fact.

            Vorknor laughed at the joke. “It certainly does not!” He turned an eye on Tobias. “Where did you dig this one up, Napht? I thought you and your crew played things straight.”

            Tobias grinned. “Sometimes we need to find help in rather…unorthodox places. I’m sure you remember Javyar?”

            The pirate clapped his hands together. “Madclaw! My old Parfful friend. He’s traveling with your group, now?” A dangerous smile came to his lips. “Tell him he still owes me a lot of credits, and I’d still love to bash his head in.”

            “Duly noted, but I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line.” Tobias replied. That got a hearty belly laugh from the pirate.

            “I’m glad to see that not much has changed!” He heaved a deep breath. “Now, Starlancer was tight-lipped about what she needed my help for. Perhaps you can enlighten me?”

            Tobias looked in both directions. “There a place we can talk in private? This isn’t exactly something for just anyone to hear.”

            “Hmmmm,” Vorknor scratched the side of his face, as if to try and divine what this could be about. “That serious?”

            “We’re here trying to get your help, so yeah.”

            Vorknor looked to Mashiyo, whose impassive expression didn’t seem to reveal much of her inner thoughts. Nevertheless, the two of them seemed to be having some sort of unspoken discussion, and a slight twitch of her lip and imperceptible nod was the only indication of an answer. The pirate turned back to his two visitors. “Very well.” He said. “I have a lot going on today, but I think I can spare five minutes for Starlancer. Please, follow me.” He turned, indicating the elevator. Aves and Tobias began to follow.

            “Keep on your guard,” Tobias whispered when they were following at a sufficient distance that no one else could hear. “This isn’t over yet.”

            “Hopefully he tells us where we can find this guy, and we can get out of here soon.” Aves did a visual sweep of the assorted pirates, smugglers, and ruffians working all around them. “I feel dirty just being here.”

            Tobias gave him a crooked look. “It’s about to get a lot dirtier, trust me.”