A fun ditty for New Year's Day. This one started out as a challenge to turn the lyrics of Bob Marley's "I shot the sheriff" into a short story set in the ED universe (they're all in there, somewhere).
--
"I admit it. I shot the sheriff."
The day had started well enough. My strike wing had launched from the carrier en route to the rings that were so popular with the local miners. Our mission was to take down an aggressive pirate gang that had been operating there recently. The local extraction fleets were being scared away which in turn affected profits at the two outposts found in-system. Reduced profits meant a severe drop in living standards, encouraging the resident loud-mouthed union boss to incite unrest among the workers.
Our intel guys suspect Mr Gobby Unionista is somehow connected to the pirates. They tell us it's likely he'll make a play to take charge of the outposts and kick out the mining corporation that built them. Obviously, local political leaders don't like the sound of that and being staunchly Alliance in their leanings they called on Victoria for help. Being Victoria, she called on AEDC and sent us in to sort things out.
System authority, run by the corporation, only has a couple of old vipers to patrol the system; clearly no match for this gang of pirates who were thought to posses a wing of four Diamondback Scouts. Sending the Sheriff and his Deputy up against them would not end well. The intel jocks also suspect a beefy Viper Mk4 and a speedy Cobra were part of the pirate's arsenal too. Scuttlebut has it that they're fencing stolen gear in nearby systems. Sheriff John Brown is outgunned and powerless.
So that's where we come in.
We're the muscle.
The Fleet carrier arrived in-system yesterday and the four of us wasted no time. We were heading out to scout the asteroid rings within hours of arrival.
"Hey gu-guys," the shady Chance Mayer shouted over to us as we approached our ships. "You know, like, if you spot anything val-valuable floating around out-out there~"
"Yeah Chance," we all replied in unison cutting him off, "that's not really what we do."
"Sure, like, I know. But if you do, I'll give-give, you a fair price and that."
Just where did Flint find this guy? AEDC is full of, let's call them specialists, but Chance Mayer was the shadiest character I've ever met. Nasty brown hair slicked back over his head. Eyes that dart everywhere and look like they never sleep (maybe chemical stimulation is why). A lopsided frown that never leaves his face. Add in his unnatural stutter and it's likely his own mother wouldn't trust him. I try to keep my distance, but there's no denying he's the man to see about stolen goods and illegal cargo. If you need something, Chance Mayer probably has it already, ferreted away in a dark corner of Silk Stocking.
So I'm Morgan, this is my strike wing. I hand picked the team from AEDC militia and the fleet carrier we now call home is one of four we have deployed. We volunteered as diplomats, although we have a few more teeth than most expect for that role, we're combat vets, one and all. Military training comes courtesy of Helena's connections at the big Alliance Naval Academy Combat Schools. An AEDC strike wing can take on the best the Federal Navy can deploy, and they've found that out to their cost a few times. We certainly pack a punch.
Our patrol entered the rings in pairs about 20 clicks apart. I led Alpha team patrolling the clockwise turn of these orbitting rocks, alongside my favoured wingman Alpha 2. Beta team formed up likewise but headed counter-clockwise. The objective last night was to find the pirate's current hunting ground, but not to engage. That could wait for the full strike wing, once we knew where to find them.
The local sheriff didn't like us operating in his system. He had grudgingly passed over the location of some RES to check out, although our research team had already identified three of his five suggested recon posts. Apparently he'd kicked off in the meeting with our planning team.
"He's an odd-ball, Morgan, for sure," is how Chris described him. "He took an instant dislike to you too, for what, I don't know."
Chris was our ops planner. The guy is a master of making complex tasks simple. He had so impressed Helena during Combine's trip south that she just left him to it towards the end of that campaign. If you know Helena, you know how rare that is.
"I just get in his way," she used to tell me with an astonished look, "better to leave him to it."
Yeah, Chris is the man you want planning your ops, so I pulled a few strings and had him assigned to Silk Stocking for this one. He'd flown out with the politicos ahead of time to talk to the locals.
"Every time I planted a seed," Chris continued, "just a germ of an idea, it was the same reaction."
"Hey man, you can kill that idea deader than slurry on a slag heap!" Chris was good at impressions, he nailed the Sheriff perfectly. "Just kill it, kill it before it grows."
In the end he was told, in no uncertain terms, that AEDC were taking the lead on this and he had to cooperate. He had the good sense to accept that, but to be brutally honest, we would rather he just kept out of our way.
So there we were, sauntering around rocks, checking for blips on the radar. Alpha 2 was stationed 5 clicks off my starboard, better for wider coverage.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has laser flash at one o'clock."
"Roger Alpha 2, hit your firewall and buster to flash site!"
The glowing engines of Alpha 2's Vulture increased in intensity as it boosted towards the laser lines shimering through the rock clouds. Visible for many clicks, laser fire often attracts a crowd of unhelpful onlookers. For these pirates, two members of that crowd were set to be very unhelpful indeed.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 reminds weapons are locked, I say again, weapons are locked, over."
"Copy Alpha 1."
There wasn't much difference in boost speed between the heavy fighter and my Fer-de-Lance, but as we approached the action we were back in close formation. Alpha 2 took the lead with myself as wingman running ident checks.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has three bogies on the scope, stand by..."
"Copy Alpha 2, scope has two DB Scouts - nominate Bandit 1, Bandit 2. Scope shows third bogey as Type 6, nominate Buddy 1."
The tactical display in both ships changed two markers from yellow to red. The scope showed trails of white markers, a debris field, explaining our poor visibility of the fireworks ahead of us.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 warns debris field may hide new bogies, be alert over."
"Wilco, Alpha 2 approaching weapons range, say status, over."
Rules of engagement for tonight's patrol were clear, it was recon only. Should the enemy present itself and pose little threat we could engage though. Two Diamondback Scouts certainly "posed little threat" to a Vulture and Fer-de-Lance.
"Alpha 2, split for ident, Alpha 1 Bandit 1, Alpha 2 Bandit 2, confirm."
"Wilco, stand by ..."
Powerful scanners on both ships beamed into action to identify the newly in-range bandits. It was taking too long though, the poor Type-6 was unlikely to last much longer.
"Positive ident. Weapons free. Split attack. Engage, engage!"
Our standard procedure is for both to attack the same ship for a quick kill. As the Type-6 was dying it was better to distract both attackers from their prey immediately with a split attack.
The Vulture veered left for Bandit 2, I boosted dead-ahead for Bandit 1. Two clicks was a little far for effective laser fire, but the flashes might distract him so I squeezed the trigger optimistically.
"Type-6, Type-6, we have the Scouts, you run - I say again, run, run, run!"
There was a crackle of static in reply masking a voice I could barely hear. The Diamondback continued blasting its laser, pumping energy in to the hull of the bigger ship, oblivious to the approaching threat. No doubt he expected us to be the ineffective sheriff in his beaten up, old Viper. He showed no concern.
Four medium pulse lasers crackling against his shields soon changed his mind. Too late, he turned to face me as the protective blue glow around his hull flickered and went out. Suddenly his hull was at the mercy of a huge multi-cannon punching holes in to the moth-like structure. He turned but my FdL was no longer there. Boosting around him in a wide arc making full use of my ship's powerful lateral thrusters to keep my nose on target the thumping cannon was ripping him apart. He would have felt the impacts, but couldn't rotate fast enough to match my momentum.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has popup contacts, 3 clicks out."
"Copy Alpha 2, complete current engagement then reform on Alpha 1."
Diamondback Scouts are slippery customers. Extremely agile, very small, and faster than either of our ships. In the right hands they would have control of the battle, engaging and disengaging on their terms. They were a good cheap option for pirates and system authority alike.
Bandit 1 however, was not in the right hands. Instead of using his speed to disengage he ignored the attacker he couldn't see, and pressed home his attack on the Type-6. Of all the wrong choices he could have made, that was the worst.
His beams cut through the Type-6 like a red-hot knife through butter. It was no longer moving and gasses leaked from the hull. There was no sign of life on board the mini-Lakon transporter. As my shells pummelled the tiny scout, so it killed the trading ship. Both hulls exploded together in a dual flash of brilliant white. Cargo cannisters spilled out of both, through the quickly extinguished flames.
"Alpha 1, popup contact identified as Sheriff and Deputy. Nominate Chick 1 and Chick 2." The two markers switched to green.
"Copy, Bandit 1 is splashed."
"Bandit 2 at 25%, your call."
That would be another splash before I could get there. Instead I remembered Chance Mayer's request and flicked open the scope to check the cannisters floating nearby. Food it said, nothing but food. Not even Chance would appreciate stolen food. I'd let the Sheriff call in a salvage ship to rescue that, the miners would welcome a feast.
"Oh hang on, what's that?"
It was impossible to know which ship each cannister had escaped from by now. Most likely the food was from the Type-6 though. The list showed up 4 interesting cannisters: antiquities, ancient artefacts, and a couple nearby that the scope couldn't identify which just added to the mystery.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 is scooping loot. Yell if needed."
Then switching to the open channel, "Sheriff, can you get a salvage team down here to pick up this food. Your colonies would welcome it I'm sure."
There was a crackle of static, then an angry voice, almost a scream.
"You do NOT give me orders you trigger happy killer. This is MY jurisdiction. There will be an investigation in to these deaths!"
Like Chris said, this guy didn't like me. I ignored him and dropped my cargo scoop aiming for the first mysterious cannister.
"Splash 2," buzzed over the open channel. I saw the explosion out the corner of my eye. I knew Alpha 2 had intentionally broadcast the kill in open to annoy the sheriff further.
"Stow your weapons, the pair of you. I don't care what those idiot politicians say, you two are under arrest!"
Jurisdiction my ! We were a carrier strike group invited by his employers to do the very job we'd just partially completed. Ignoring his threats, I continued scooping. The FdL didn't have much space anyway, but these four would be on board before he was close enough to realise what was happening.
"Stow your weapons Commander, or we shall open fire!" Well that escalated quickly. The incompetence of this sheriff would find its way into my report for sure.
Suddenly the Fer-de-Lance shook as a Viper buzzed metres above my canopy. A dangerous manoeuvre that could have ended very badly for the pilot. It was the deputy.
"Hey, what was that!" I yelled back over the open channel.
"You are criminals, and under arrest!" As if to emphasise the statement laser fire broke over my bow. A few careless shots making my shields fizzle.
"What the hell are you doing Sheriff!"
"I've warned you, stow your weapons or we will destroy you."
This guy was a lunatic. His deputy was buzzing around getting dangerously close too.
"Alpha 1, what's going on over there?" that came over our secure channel, my wingman growing concerned by the unexpected turn of events.
Before I could reply, laser fire broke out once more. This time a full salvo hitting me from short range.
"You are stealing cargo from a crime scene Commander, jettison it immediately or face consquences," this time from the deputy buzzing around.
What were these two jokers playing at. Three of the cannisters were safely inside, I made a move for the final one on my list. Ancient artefacts were usually a waste of effort, but I had heard of interesting finds being made. More laser fire hit my shields, both ships this time, Sheriff and Deputy. My shields were dropping to dangerous levels, but they had no right stopping me salvaging this loot.
"Alpha 1, what the devil is happening, what should I do?"
"Alpha 2, bug out, bug out. Your signal is buster to mother. I'm right behind you, get the hell out of here!"
The last cannister clanked in to the cargo bay. I slammed shut the scoop, and spun the big ship on its axis towards the Sheriff. Shields were practically gone. I thumped the chaff with no confidence in its effectivness - they were too close to miss.
The Sheriff's Viper appeared in my sights and I unleashed every weapon in his direction before boosting towards the top edge of the asteriod belt and freedom. He fired back, laser beams flew past my canopy missing by miles as I shot beneath him. There was an explosion behind me. A big flash of flames as those focused beams of energy made contact with something for the last time. The scope showed a flashing red triangle, so it wasn't the Sheriff. It must have been some of the cargo he hit.
I didn't stop boosting my big bruiser of a combat ship until emerging from the asteroids. Once there I hit supercruise and rendezvoused back at the Silk Stocking as quickly as I could.
"Alpha 1, glad you made it back. Head for pad one zero," came the welcome from Silk's flight controller. "I hear you had a spot of bother out there?"
"Roger that Silk, did Alpha 2 make it back?"
"Strike group is all home, Alpha 1. You're the last. You've caused a bit of a fuss here though, the boss needs a word when you're secure."
That damn Sheriff must have called ahead. I landed on pad 10 as directed by Madeline on flight control duty. We got sucked into the ship's hold and the mechanics started looking concerned at a few scratches straight away.
"For the love of Tellus Morgan, what happened out there?" It was unusual for the Deck Officer to meet me on the landing pad. More unusual still for him to be joined by two of our security officers. "You killed the deputy, what in the name of Tellus were you thinking?"
"I shot the sheriff," I replied puzzled, "but I did not shoot the deputy."
"He's dead man! There was only you and the sheriff out there, and he's crying blue murder."
"Check the gun camera, I did NOT shoot the deputy."
"Aye, I'll do that. First, these two will escort you to the boss. I need to take your side arm first." I raised my arms in surrender and McLaughlin took the pistol from my hip holster. "Hey, I believe you man, the gun camera will back you up, but Sheriff John Brown is trying to track you down. He wants you brought in guilty for the life of a deputy."
"I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self defence."
"That's what Alpha 2 told us, but they're saying it's a capital offence."
My two guards marched me towards the hanger bay exit, but Chance cried out just before we reached the doors.
"M-Morgan, they t-tell me you coll-l-lected~"
"Jeez Chance, I'm a bit busy being arrested here," I shot back before he could finish. "McLaughlan give him access to my cargo, will you?"
With that we marched to the boss's office to clear my name.
"I admit it. I shot the sheriff. But I did not kill the deputy!"
So that was all around in my home town last night. I cleared things up with the boss, the gun camera helped prove my side of the story. Freedom came my way.
This morning we started out of town, back to patrolling the asteroids looking for the remaining pirates. We spread into a search pattern, all four of us five clicks apart to cover nearly 30 clicks across the width of the rocks. The rocks were dense leaving me blind, unable to see my wing mates. I saw one on the scope, and another triangular marker mining the far side of the 'roid ahead.
"Murderous scum, you will die!" the tannoy screamed as the "mining ship" shot out from behind the rock in front of me.
The voice I recognised, tinged with anger and shrieks of insanity. The ship I couldn't see behind a bright wall of laser fire. My shields flared at the enslaught. My heart stopped beating - I froze.
"Under attack," said the calming voice of my ship's computer.
Never before in combat had I experienced such indecision.
Then the beams stopped and out of the brightness I saw sheriff John Brown aiming to shoot me down. His Viper whizzed past, over my canopy, my mind blank. Stunned.
Seriously, who in their right mind hunts a Fer-de-Lance in a Viper Mk3. His first salvo wiped a bar off my shields, I knew he'd be spinning around for a second pass. Should I fight back? Should I run? Would this vendetta end without his death, or mine?
I was startled out of my reverie by more lasers flashing over head and shields clattering. Instinct took over, reflexes got the better of me. Flight Assist flicked off. Boost was hit. The big Fer-de-Lance spun on its axis.
"What is to be, must be," I replied belatedly as thumb and finger both squeezed triggers.
Through his hail of beams I retaliated. So I shot, I shot him down! His shields collapsed. The Viper's hull was torn to shreds.
"Nooooooo!" Final realisation hit Sheriff John Brown as the hull collapsed around him.
I sat there staring through the burning wreckage. What had just happened? Why? I would never know. Lines from an old poem forced their way in to my mind. I pondered them over and over for a while.
"Every day the bucket goes to the well,
But one day the bottom will drop out."
Yes, I thought, one day the bottom will drop out.
But I say, "I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no."
--
"I admit it. I shot the sheriff."
The day had started well enough. My strike wing had launched from the carrier en route to the rings that were so popular with the local miners. Our mission was to take down an aggressive pirate gang that had been operating there recently. The local extraction fleets were being scared away which in turn affected profits at the two outposts found in-system. Reduced profits meant a severe drop in living standards, encouraging the resident loud-mouthed union boss to incite unrest among the workers.
Our intel guys suspect Mr Gobby Unionista is somehow connected to the pirates. They tell us it's likely he'll make a play to take charge of the outposts and kick out the mining corporation that built them. Obviously, local political leaders don't like the sound of that and being staunchly Alliance in their leanings they called on Victoria for help. Being Victoria, she called on AEDC and sent us in to sort things out.
System authority, run by the corporation, only has a couple of old vipers to patrol the system; clearly no match for this gang of pirates who were thought to posses a wing of four Diamondback Scouts. Sending the Sheriff and his Deputy up against them would not end well. The intel jocks also suspect a beefy Viper Mk4 and a speedy Cobra were part of the pirate's arsenal too. Scuttlebut has it that they're fencing stolen gear in nearby systems. Sheriff John Brown is outgunned and powerless.
So that's where we come in.
We're the muscle.
The Fleet carrier arrived in-system yesterday and the four of us wasted no time. We were heading out to scout the asteroid rings within hours of arrival.
"Hey gu-guys," the shady Chance Mayer shouted over to us as we approached our ships. "You know, like, if you spot anything val-valuable floating around out-out there~"
"Yeah Chance," we all replied in unison cutting him off, "that's not really what we do."
"Sure, like, I know. But if you do, I'll give-give, you a fair price and that."
Just where did Flint find this guy? AEDC is full of, let's call them specialists, but Chance Mayer was the shadiest character I've ever met. Nasty brown hair slicked back over his head. Eyes that dart everywhere and look like they never sleep (maybe chemical stimulation is why). A lopsided frown that never leaves his face. Add in his unnatural stutter and it's likely his own mother wouldn't trust him. I try to keep my distance, but there's no denying he's the man to see about stolen goods and illegal cargo. If you need something, Chance Mayer probably has it already, ferreted away in a dark corner of Silk Stocking.
So I'm Morgan, this is my strike wing. I hand picked the team from AEDC militia and the fleet carrier we now call home is one of four we have deployed. We volunteered as diplomats, although we have a few more teeth than most expect for that role, we're combat vets, one and all. Military training comes courtesy of Helena's connections at the big Alliance Naval Academy Combat Schools. An AEDC strike wing can take on the best the Federal Navy can deploy, and they've found that out to their cost a few times. We certainly pack a punch.
Our patrol entered the rings in pairs about 20 clicks apart. I led Alpha team patrolling the clockwise turn of these orbitting rocks, alongside my favoured wingman Alpha 2. Beta team formed up likewise but headed counter-clockwise. The objective last night was to find the pirate's current hunting ground, but not to engage. That could wait for the full strike wing, once we knew where to find them.
The local sheriff didn't like us operating in his system. He had grudgingly passed over the location of some RES to check out, although our research team had already identified three of his five suggested recon posts. Apparently he'd kicked off in the meeting with our planning team.
"He's an odd-ball, Morgan, for sure," is how Chris described him. "He took an instant dislike to you too, for what, I don't know."
Chris was our ops planner. The guy is a master of making complex tasks simple. He had so impressed Helena during Combine's trip south that she just left him to it towards the end of that campaign. If you know Helena, you know how rare that is.
"I just get in his way," she used to tell me with an astonished look, "better to leave him to it."
Yeah, Chris is the man you want planning your ops, so I pulled a few strings and had him assigned to Silk Stocking for this one. He'd flown out with the politicos ahead of time to talk to the locals.
"Every time I planted a seed," Chris continued, "just a germ of an idea, it was the same reaction."
"Hey man, you can kill that idea deader than slurry on a slag heap!" Chris was good at impressions, he nailed the Sheriff perfectly. "Just kill it, kill it before it grows."
In the end he was told, in no uncertain terms, that AEDC were taking the lead on this and he had to cooperate. He had the good sense to accept that, but to be brutally honest, we would rather he just kept out of our way.
So there we were, sauntering around rocks, checking for blips on the radar. Alpha 2 was stationed 5 clicks off my starboard, better for wider coverage.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has laser flash at one o'clock."
"Roger Alpha 2, hit your firewall and buster to flash site!"
The glowing engines of Alpha 2's Vulture increased in intensity as it boosted towards the laser lines shimering through the rock clouds. Visible for many clicks, laser fire often attracts a crowd of unhelpful onlookers. For these pirates, two members of that crowd were set to be very unhelpful indeed.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 reminds weapons are locked, I say again, weapons are locked, over."
"Copy Alpha 1."
There wasn't much difference in boost speed between the heavy fighter and my Fer-de-Lance, but as we approached the action we were back in close formation. Alpha 2 took the lead with myself as wingman running ident checks.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has three bogies on the scope, stand by..."
"Copy Alpha 2, scope has two DB Scouts - nominate Bandit 1, Bandit 2. Scope shows third bogey as Type 6, nominate Buddy 1."
The tactical display in both ships changed two markers from yellow to red. The scope showed trails of white markers, a debris field, explaining our poor visibility of the fireworks ahead of us.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 warns debris field may hide new bogies, be alert over."
"Wilco, Alpha 2 approaching weapons range, say status, over."
Rules of engagement for tonight's patrol were clear, it was recon only. Should the enemy present itself and pose little threat we could engage though. Two Diamondback Scouts certainly "posed little threat" to a Vulture and Fer-de-Lance.
"Alpha 2, split for ident, Alpha 1 Bandit 1, Alpha 2 Bandit 2, confirm."
"Wilco, stand by ..."
Powerful scanners on both ships beamed into action to identify the newly in-range bandits. It was taking too long though, the poor Type-6 was unlikely to last much longer.
"Positive ident. Weapons free. Split attack. Engage, engage!"
Our standard procedure is for both to attack the same ship for a quick kill. As the Type-6 was dying it was better to distract both attackers from their prey immediately with a split attack.
The Vulture veered left for Bandit 2, I boosted dead-ahead for Bandit 1. Two clicks was a little far for effective laser fire, but the flashes might distract him so I squeezed the trigger optimistically.
"Type-6, Type-6, we have the Scouts, you run - I say again, run, run, run!"
There was a crackle of static in reply masking a voice I could barely hear. The Diamondback continued blasting its laser, pumping energy in to the hull of the bigger ship, oblivious to the approaching threat. No doubt he expected us to be the ineffective sheriff in his beaten up, old Viper. He showed no concern.
Four medium pulse lasers crackling against his shields soon changed his mind. Too late, he turned to face me as the protective blue glow around his hull flickered and went out. Suddenly his hull was at the mercy of a huge multi-cannon punching holes in to the moth-like structure. He turned but my FdL was no longer there. Boosting around him in a wide arc making full use of my ship's powerful lateral thrusters to keep my nose on target the thumping cannon was ripping him apart. He would have felt the impacts, but couldn't rotate fast enough to match my momentum.
"Alpha 1, Alpha 2 has popup contacts, 3 clicks out."
"Copy Alpha 2, complete current engagement then reform on Alpha 1."
Diamondback Scouts are slippery customers. Extremely agile, very small, and faster than either of our ships. In the right hands they would have control of the battle, engaging and disengaging on their terms. They were a good cheap option for pirates and system authority alike.
Bandit 1 however, was not in the right hands. Instead of using his speed to disengage he ignored the attacker he couldn't see, and pressed home his attack on the Type-6. Of all the wrong choices he could have made, that was the worst.
His beams cut through the Type-6 like a red-hot knife through butter. It was no longer moving and gasses leaked from the hull. There was no sign of life on board the mini-Lakon transporter. As my shells pummelled the tiny scout, so it killed the trading ship. Both hulls exploded together in a dual flash of brilliant white. Cargo cannisters spilled out of both, through the quickly extinguished flames.
"Alpha 1, popup contact identified as Sheriff and Deputy. Nominate Chick 1 and Chick 2." The two markers switched to green.
"Copy, Bandit 1 is splashed."
"Bandit 2 at 25%, your call."
That would be another splash before I could get there. Instead I remembered Chance Mayer's request and flicked open the scope to check the cannisters floating nearby. Food it said, nothing but food. Not even Chance would appreciate stolen food. I'd let the Sheriff call in a salvage ship to rescue that, the miners would welcome a feast.
"Oh hang on, what's that?"
It was impossible to know which ship each cannister had escaped from by now. Most likely the food was from the Type-6 though. The list showed up 4 interesting cannisters: antiquities, ancient artefacts, and a couple nearby that the scope couldn't identify which just added to the mystery.
"Alpha 2, Alpha 1 is scooping loot. Yell if needed."
Then switching to the open channel, "Sheriff, can you get a salvage team down here to pick up this food. Your colonies would welcome it I'm sure."
There was a crackle of static, then an angry voice, almost a scream.
"You do NOT give me orders you trigger happy killer. This is MY jurisdiction. There will be an investigation in to these deaths!"
Like Chris said, this guy didn't like me. I ignored him and dropped my cargo scoop aiming for the first mysterious cannister.
"Splash 2," buzzed over the open channel. I saw the explosion out the corner of my eye. I knew Alpha 2 had intentionally broadcast the kill in open to annoy the sheriff further.
"Stow your weapons, the pair of you. I don't care what those idiot politicians say, you two are under arrest!"
Jurisdiction my ! We were a carrier strike group invited by his employers to do the very job we'd just partially completed. Ignoring his threats, I continued scooping. The FdL didn't have much space anyway, but these four would be on board before he was close enough to realise what was happening.
"Stow your weapons Commander, or we shall open fire!" Well that escalated quickly. The incompetence of this sheriff would find its way into my report for sure.
Suddenly the Fer-de-Lance shook as a Viper buzzed metres above my canopy. A dangerous manoeuvre that could have ended very badly for the pilot. It was the deputy.
"Hey, what was that!" I yelled back over the open channel.
"You are criminals, and under arrest!" As if to emphasise the statement laser fire broke over my bow. A few careless shots making my shields fizzle.
"What the hell are you doing Sheriff!"
"I've warned you, stow your weapons or we will destroy you."
This guy was a lunatic. His deputy was buzzing around getting dangerously close too.
"Alpha 1, what's going on over there?" that came over our secure channel, my wingman growing concerned by the unexpected turn of events.
Before I could reply, laser fire broke out once more. This time a full salvo hitting me from short range.
"You are stealing cargo from a crime scene Commander, jettison it immediately or face consquences," this time from the deputy buzzing around.
What were these two jokers playing at. Three of the cannisters were safely inside, I made a move for the final one on my list. Ancient artefacts were usually a waste of effort, but I had heard of interesting finds being made. More laser fire hit my shields, both ships this time, Sheriff and Deputy. My shields were dropping to dangerous levels, but they had no right stopping me salvaging this loot.
"Alpha 1, what the devil is happening, what should I do?"
"Alpha 2, bug out, bug out. Your signal is buster to mother. I'm right behind you, get the hell out of here!"
The last cannister clanked in to the cargo bay. I slammed shut the scoop, and spun the big ship on its axis towards the Sheriff. Shields were practically gone. I thumped the chaff with no confidence in its effectivness - they were too close to miss.
The Sheriff's Viper appeared in my sights and I unleashed every weapon in his direction before boosting towards the top edge of the asteriod belt and freedom. He fired back, laser beams flew past my canopy missing by miles as I shot beneath him. There was an explosion behind me. A big flash of flames as those focused beams of energy made contact with something for the last time. The scope showed a flashing red triangle, so it wasn't the Sheriff. It must have been some of the cargo he hit.
I didn't stop boosting my big bruiser of a combat ship until emerging from the asteroids. Once there I hit supercruise and rendezvoused back at the Silk Stocking as quickly as I could.
"Alpha 1, glad you made it back. Head for pad one zero," came the welcome from Silk's flight controller. "I hear you had a spot of bother out there?"
"Roger that Silk, did Alpha 2 make it back?"
"Strike group is all home, Alpha 1. You're the last. You've caused a bit of a fuss here though, the boss needs a word when you're secure."
That damn Sheriff must have called ahead. I landed on pad 10 as directed by Madeline on flight control duty. We got sucked into the ship's hold and the mechanics started looking concerned at a few scratches straight away.
"For the love of Tellus Morgan, what happened out there?" It was unusual for the Deck Officer to meet me on the landing pad. More unusual still for him to be joined by two of our security officers. "You killed the deputy, what in the name of Tellus were you thinking?"
"I shot the sheriff," I replied puzzled, "but I did not shoot the deputy."
"He's dead man! There was only you and the sheriff out there, and he's crying blue murder."
"Check the gun camera, I did NOT shoot the deputy."
"Aye, I'll do that. First, these two will escort you to the boss. I need to take your side arm first." I raised my arms in surrender and McLaughlin took the pistol from my hip holster. "Hey, I believe you man, the gun camera will back you up, but Sheriff John Brown is trying to track you down. He wants you brought in guilty for the life of a deputy."
"I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self defence."
"That's what Alpha 2 told us, but they're saying it's a capital offence."
My two guards marched me towards the hanger bay exit, but Chance cried out just before we reached the doors.
"M-Morgan, they t-tell me you coll-l-lected~"
"Jeez Chance, I'm a bit busy being arrested here," I shot back before he could finish. "McLaughlan give him access to my cargo, will you?"
With that we marched to the boss's office to clear my name.
"I admit it. I shot the sheriff. But I did not kill the deputy!"
So that was all around in my home town last night. I cleared things up with the boss, the gun camera helped prove my side of the story. Freedom came my way.
This morning we started out of town, back to patrolling the asteroids looking for the remaining pirates. We spread into a search pattern, all four of us five clicks apart to cover nearly 30 clicks across the width of the rocks. The rocks were dense leaving me blind, unable to see my wing mates. I saw one on the scope, and another triangular marker mining the far side of the 'roid ahead.
"Murderous scum, you will die!" the tannoy screamed as the "mining ship" shot out from behind the rock in front of me.
The voice I recognised, tinged with anger and shrieks of insanity. The ship I couldn't see behind a bright wall of laser fire. My shields flared at the enslaught. My heart stopped beating - I froze.
"Under attack," said the calming voice of my ship's computer.
Never before in combat had I experienced such indecision.
Then the beams stopped and out of the brightness I saw sheriff John Brown aiming to shoot me down. His Viper whizzed past, over my canopy, my mind blank. Stunned.
Seriously, who in their right mind hunts a Fer-de-Lance in a Viper Mk3. His first salvo wiped a bar off my shields, I knew he'd be spinning around for a second pass. Should I fight back? Should I run? Would this vendetta end without his death, or mine?
I was startled out of my reverie by more lasers flashing over head and shields clattering. Instinct took over, reflexes got the better of me. Flight Assist flicked off. Boost was hit. The big Fer-de-Lance spun on its axis.
"What is to be, must be," I replied belatedly as thumb and finger both squeezed triggers.
Through his hail of beams I retaliated. So I shot, I shot him down! His shields collapsed. The Viper's hull was torn to shreds.
"Nooooooo!" Final realisation hit Sheriff John Brown as the hull collapsed around him.
I sat there staring through the burning wreckage. What had just happened? Why? I would never know. Lines from an old poem forced their way in to my mind. I pondered them over and over for a while.
"Every day the bucket goes to the well,
But one day the bottom will drop out."
Yes, I thought, one day the bottom will drop out.
But I say, "I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no."