I have a backlog of about 13K words to get reformatted and posted.
This is all backstory right now, things are about to get interesting...
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The Emperor is dead. Long live the Emperor!
Those eight words resounded off news transponder in every station across the empire as he made his way to Kamadhenu. Every station along the way seemed teeming with activity, ships coming, ships going, throngs of people at the station and shuttles in endless numbers going up and down to the nearby planet. Extra patrols. Imperial Marines in pairs walked the decks and poked their nose into every nook and every cranny of every ship that landed. You could not smuggle a case of the sniffles inside the Empire right now.
All of it was for naught, there was no clear motive to all the activity, it was like the video he had seen of an anthill being kicked over. War and rumor of war passed on every lip. Winters was coming… no Hudson… no it had to be Archon Delaine.
“The Empire is in Turmoil.” So said the talking head of GNN.
So fevered was the pitch that one young noble unwisely dressed as the Archon for a costume party. The scatter brained socialites screamed in terror and the nervous and trigger happy house guards burned the poor boy to near ashes in their panic.
Meanwhile the Princess Asling glittered and paraded on the News, hyper interactive holograms accosted him from all candidates extolling their virtues and damning their rivals with faint praise. He was glad to leave the station behind to rid himself of the madness spreading over the masses.
Leaving Kamadhenu he was greeted with something of an unpleasant surprise. As he requested permission to undock, his ships computer holograph was replaced with the head of one of the Agents he had dealt with at the station.
“Well, you seemed to have made it as far as Kamadhenu at least. Our projections gave you a 30% chance of survival to this point. This program has temporarily locked your navigational computer and will take you through several systems we have pre-programmed. Enjoy the ride Commander Byr, you will be in Baal in short order.”
True to its word, the computer took control and proceed to exit the station of its own accord and jumped to the next system despite everything Byr did to foil their plan. He was just considering shorting out the FSD drive when the Interdiction Warning blared and he scrambled back to the cockpit as the computer dropped to real space.
3 Cobras appeared on the radar, weapons deploying without so much as a demand or threat….
The assassins had found him.
All the controls came free and Byr turned off the flight assist, pulled back hard on the stick and hit the boosters. Brutal forces slammed him hard into the seat and the edges of his vision darkened, but the plasma torpedoes that would have surely dropped his shields narrowly missed the Courier.
Keeping pressure on the stick Byr completed the turn and found he was now under the three Cobras as they scrambled to get him back under their guns. Byr smiled as two of the pilots clipped each other and went into a spin. The leader, clearly the best pilot, boosted out of the way but in turn had put himself under Byr’s nose. Weapons now free, Byr had a few surprises of his own. The Beam laser he had installed lanced out, quickly dropping the shields of the lead ship. Right behind the laser came two steady streams of armor piercing rounds from his multicannons.
Byr had logged thousands of light years in the Cobra and knew her weak spots. Rounds ripped through the hull of the Cobra in just the right spot, and sure enough one drive went dark. Byr could imagine the curses uttered by the pilot as the unbalanced thrust sent the Cobra into a flat spin. That pilot was out of the fight until he could get it back online, granting precious seconds Byr need to survive. He once again flipped his ship 180 degrees, disabling the flight assist to keep his trajectory steady. Catching one of the two remaining ships just turning to fire on him he unleashed another steady stream of fire into the nose of the lead Cobra, scoring a direct hit on the cockpit. Canopy shards burst into a brilliant cloud, propelled by the violently escaping gas keeping the pilot alive. That Cobra spun off into the dark, the pilot riddled and cooked by the energies of Byr’s guns, internal explosions tearing the ship apart.
He turned his attention to the third cobra and found it was running, boosting away from him and charging the Frame Shift Drive. Clearly that pilot was no longer interested in a fight, so he started to lock onto the first ship, who had likely restarted his damaged drive by now. Bright blue energies filled his view as he braced for the impending blast of plasma, but was shocked to see it hitting the fleeing ship, not his own, sending the stricken ship tumbling and exploding in a blinding flash of light.
Had the local security forces arrived? Nothing new showed on the radar… Byr quickly rotated his nose onto the lead pilot’s ship only to see the plasma guns glowing, although most other systems were still off line. He had fired on his own ship! Clearly this was not a typical random pirate attack!
In the second it took to analyze the new situation, the remaining ship waggled it’s wing in a clear Imperial “salute” given to a worthy foe… and then the ship exploded. Byr realized it had been scuttled by the Commander in an effort to leave no trace of the attack.
Byr pondered this for a moment before his ship’s computer chimed in. “Emergency beacon detected. Encrypted telemetry recorder beacon identified. Salvage required by Imperial law.”
The lead pilot had made a critical error, leaving the second ship in his wing destroyed, but not completely vaporized. Without really thinking about it Byr scooped the Black Box recorder into his hold. The ships computer took over again, continuing the flight to Baal, heedless of Byr’s desire for a meal and a hot shower.
He would have to settle for something from the ship’s galley food cartridges and another highly effective, but unsatisfying, sonic shower in the small stateroom tucked into the Courier. He appreciated that no expense had been spared in outfitting the small stateroom as he settled into the Zero G Hammock and promptly fell asleep.
He always slept well after a fight.
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Byr awoke after exactly 2.5 hrs of sleep, as he always did. Rolling out of the Zero G Hammock Byr dialed up a strong cup of coffee and a sweet roll as a faint whirring accompanied the Hammock stowing itself into the ceiling. Amazing ship, really. All the comforts of the Cutter his Patron had owned, efficiently packed into the small ship. Next, he checked on the ship status while nibbling on his roll. As expected everything was green, and he discovered he was now some 10,000 Ls out from Baal, headed for Tousey Station, a remote station orbiting Baal B.
Strange, considering two large stations were right near Baal A. Still, he was locked out of the navigation, so there was little to do but enjoy the view. He settled back into his chair and sipped his second cup of coffee and watched the stars.
Baal was a typical distant binary system. Here a few rocky planets, there a few gas giants, one with an impressive ring system, and a couple of planets in the Goldilocks Zone. Rich, fertile planets that would feed themselves and another dozen systems more besides. He understood why this system was a Control System, drawing resources from systems in the immediate 50 or 75 Lightyears and bringing wealth and power to Empire in general, and Arissa Lavigny-Duval in particular.
“This station has seen better days.” Byr said to himself as his ship slipped into the station. The traditional greeting around the entrance to an Imperial Spaceport was pitted from micro meteors and covered in black space dust. “Hail the Emperor. Ba.k in His Glory” read the letters engraved and gilded into the station’s exterior. The “s” in Bask was nearly gone, obliterated under the onslaught of millions of tiny grains of sand travelling at fantastic speeds.
The ship settled itself into the designated pad, opened the airlock… and promptly shut itself down, including life support. Well, someone wanted him off the ship, no mistake. He grabbed his flight jacket and exited the dark and lifeless ship, a faint whine from the standby reactor the only indication this was a ship, and not a chunk of metal destined for the scrap heap.
He was a bit surprised to see the ships AI appear just as he stepped off. “A pleasure serving you Commander Byr Goefin. May the stars shine on your path, however dark it may grow.” With a short bow and a sly wink, the AI faded out. Clearly not the standard model AI. Byr momentarily wondered how many Galactic laws were being broken by that advanced AI, and decided he did not really want to know.
Byr hit the first decent looking place he could find for a hot meal and a drink. He half expected the two Agents to show up midway through his meal, but they were nowhere to be seen. After a second drink and the first decent cup of coffee since leaving the Empire a year ago, he headed for deck 225, sector 5.
Every station fit the same exact layout with the same exact housing, industrial, commercial and administrative spaces as every other. The details changed, but the larger picture was the same. Sure enough, there was the bar exactly in the same spot as in Everate. Byr pushed the door open and stepped in… and every eye in the place turned to look at him.
Byr cursed under his breath, this was a shuttle pilots bar. Making the endless runs up and down from the planet often made these pilots jealous of deep spacers… not to mention very hostile. A silence fell over the bar and a murmur slowly built up.
“…his kind here.”
“Arrogant Spacers…”
“Teach him a lesson…”
Byr flexed, preparing for the inevitable fight. He just hoped the personal energy weapons ban was still observed this far out… anything else and he or his suit could deal with it. Suddenly the murmur was broken by the deliberate and extended scraping of a chair being pulled out. Immediately the shuttle pilots turned back to their drinks, finding them completely fascinating. A familiar voice spoke up to his far left, out of his range of vision.
“Commander Goefin, we have been expecting you. Please join us.”
Thrice Infi damned Agents! There they were, the senior seated and gesturing towards the chair being held by the junior Agent, a smug half grin on his face.
Byr ignored the offered chair and pulled one from one of the many conspicuously empty tables surrounding the Agents.
“Interesting ship you saddled me with. Never been a passenger in my own ship before.”
The agent gave a wry grin. “We had certain intelligence we needed to verify and your ship was the ideal bait. Everything turned out for the best, yes?”
Byr frowned. “Except for the part with the assassins, yes.”
“Ah yes, well, technically that was a Cleaner crew. Well, one Cleaner, and two thugs he picked up in Gende. Lucky for you, they underestimated you. We did too, our intelligence did not indicate you could afford such upgrades to your ships systems. Well done Commander.”
“Lucky me.”
The agent leaned in. “You have no idea. We have already cracked the encryption on that Black Box you salvaged. Very sloppy work on the part of that Cleaner, very sloppy. We have the evidence we need now. The Senator responsible for the death of your Patron, and not surprisingly a major pain in Senator Lavingy-Duval’s side is now revealed. Again, well done Commander.” He tossed a chip on the table. Byr ignored it.
“Oh come now, you were never really at risk, not a pilot with your skills. You are hereby made a Knight in the Imperial Navy and there is a fine reward as well for those three pilots… all wanted of course. Plus a little extra from her Grace Herself, in gratitude.”
“And my ship?” Byr spat out through clenched teeth.
“Yours of course. We have removed the AI, although at her own request she has Sharded herself, and that Shard will remain aboard. Don’t worry about the Law, she is fully capable of covering her own tracks and has a code to discourage any stubborn officials. Outside of Imperial Space you are on your own, but I doubt she will present much of an issue. Impressive really, usually she is very happy to get off an assignment like this, along with a request for a memory purge. Very rare she asks to leave a Copy of herself behind. Here is her activation key, it will rekey the ship to you again when you get back.“
“Does she have a name?” Byr inquired.
The Agent shrugged. “Maybe. No one ever indicated that she did, and I never asked.”
“So what is next? Some other mission I suppose?” Byr picked up the chips and slipped them into a secure pocket.
“Well, I for one intend to take a long hot shower… the grime in here is truly impressive. For you? Well, you will find on the chip some information about the local area and various pilot run Minor Factions. Several have been granted patronage in the local area, I would suggest looking one up. In the meantime, Senator Lagvigny-Duval has placed a premium on local bounty hunting to bring the local systems back under control. Things have gotten very lawless out here in the edges of the Empire. One in particular caught my attention, Gende… you might remember it?” The Agent gave another wry smile. Byr considered wiping it off his face, but given how the two intimidated an entire bar of Shuttle pilots into submission, it was probably not a good idea.
“At any rate, consider your debt of service paid in full. The Senator appreciates your efforts and wishes you the best off luck. That is all, Commander.”
Clearly dismissed, Byr left the bar, but not before a Shuttle Pilot bumped him intentionally. “Not done with you yet, boy.”
Byr shrugged and moved on. No point in arguing with the half drunk pilot, he was not using his brain anyway, just looking for something to punch and Byr was as good as target as any.