In Chapter Six of Kit: An Outlander Tale, Lyra works with the bounty hunter, Mayzee Layser, to prepare her father's Anaconda for a rescue mission to the bubble.
The story so far:
"Drydo, you old son-of-a-rail-gun." The ship-storage magnate looked up from the decision support app on his screen and stared hard at the speaker until recognition dawned. Then he eased his well-fed frame back in his executive chair and put his arms behind his head, revealing the damp patches spreading from his armpits. A smile – the result of expensive dental work – spread across his face. "Well, well, well – Mayzee Layser, I haven't seen you around since…well, not for a long time." "I ain't exactly been frequentin' the same joints as you – else I'd have a bit more flesh on my bones." Drydo was sensitive about his weight, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it – expense account lunches with fleet managers and entertaining them in 'Tropic Scena were all part of his business model. Dieting didn't work for him so his best option was to locate his headquarters close to the ship storage bays that were his livelihood. The gravity here was 0.5g and Drydo felt as light and nimble as his twenty-year-old self. Nevertheless, he sat forward and pulled in his stomach. "What can I do for you, Mayzee? And who's your friend?" Lyra made to introduce herself but Layser touched her arm to stop her. "She's just a kid who wants to get on her father's ship; maybe take it out for a spin to charge the capacitors." Drydo sucked air through his teeth. "You know that's against company policy. Too many ships have been stolen by people pretending to be the owner; we just don't do that." Layser – untidy, dirty, poorly dressed, and with draggled hair – stood to her full height and looked Drydo straight in the eyes, until he looked away. "You'd be doin' me and the kid a great favour – unless of course you don't think you owe me anymore." Drydo knew full well that his nephew would be a slave – or more probably be dead – if it were not for the actions of Mayzee Layser tracking down his kidnappers. She had been paid well, but there was a cost to her. Good bounty hunters were hunted down in turn – they were bad for piracy. Her name started to appear on kill-on-sight lists and she might be attacked anywhere and at any time, but especially in the anarchy systems where her job often took her. It was fighting off a wing of pirates that had nearly destroyed her Vulture. Reluctant gratitude softened Drydo's features. "All right, what's the name on the account." Layser looked to Lyra. "My father's name is Virgil Capra." Drydo went back to his screen and brought up a different app; it didn't take long to find the details. "Anaconda, vibrant red – nice ship." He looked at the payment history. "Account's overdue; shouldn't let you take the ship before you settle." Layser's counter-argument went straight to Drydo's wallet. "Man's been kidnapped; most likely dead by now; ain't no more money comin' your way. Why don't you let us take the ship and free up the space? We'll take the 'conda to an extraction site in that ring we're orbiting; we'll pick up enough bounties to settle the bill." To Drydo, the financial argument was more compelling than the moral one. He could easily rent out the bay occupied by the Anaconda, so the only risk he was taking was not getting the overdue rental. He quietly spoke some details into a microphone and seconds later an access card was printed on a nearby machine. "This'll get you into the bay, and it covers the cost of one ship movement to an outfitter of your choice – I'm guessing no tourist loadout is going to earn you those bounties." Layser took the card. "Pleasure doin' business with you – again." "Yes, let's leave it longer next time," Drydo remarked under his breath, as Lyra and Layser left. * Steptoe's shipyard barely had room for Lyra's Anaconda and Layser's wrecked Vulture. They would only fit because the Vulture looked folded in half. "That was in space?" Steptoe asked Layser. "I'm surprised you made it here alive." "Nearly didn't; the rotational thrusters were jammed on, fuel was venting from the tank, and the main drive mounts were bent at some ungodly angle. Bounced off the mailslot a few times comin' in and got lucky that station security didn't kill me for dangerous driving." "But at least you can laugh at it now," Steptoe joked. Layser's face was deadpan. It didn't look like she laughed very often. "Maybe not," Steptoe continued, turning his attention to the bigger ship. "Now this is something; a real beauty." He was used to working on smaller ships and he walked admiringly around the Anaconda. Then his eyes came to rest once more on the Vulture. "What do you want to do with it?" he asked Layser. "Ain't no use to me as she is; got no sentimental attachment to ships; just tools of the trade." "Scrap it, then?" "Let's not be too hasty," Layser replied. "Got me some sweet mods on that ship – not that they saved me in the end." "You'd better tell me what to keep and what to throw." "I want the 3C beams; one has thermal shock, the other has thermal conduit. Might as well keep the wake scanner and the warrant scanner, oh, and the shield boosters – they're heavy duty. Fit 'em all to the 'conda; and of course all the mats and data I've collected." "What else is upgraded?" Steptoe asked. "As you know, the outfitting here on Jaques is fairly basic so there's a healthy market for second-hand kit." Layser tried to recall all the changes she had made to the Vulture; it had been a long grind to get them all." "What about the bulkheads?" "Military." "Definitely, I can get a good price for them. Anything else?" "Well the drives are tuned." "Dirty?" "Filthy." "You mean level 5?" Steptoe was getting excited. "Yup." Layser was matter-of-fact. She was without pride; the speed that the upgrade gave her ship simply helped her do her job better. "What about the heat?" "Sure, there was plenty of that until I got a good roll on a low emission power plant." Steptoe was beginning to appreciate what a gem of a ship the Vulture had once been. "I could sell both of those in the next ten minutes; or even better, get a holophone auction going; I know at least five commanders who would bite their own heads off to get those modules." "Even with the drive mounts bent like they are?" Steptoe smirked and nodded towards a very muscular shipwright who was easily carrying a pulse laser across the yard. "I definitely have a hammer big enough to straighten them out. When we've finished, they'll be as true as new." "I guess that's all the interestin' stuff," Layser said. "Okay, and as to the rest there will still be some exotic alloys we can reclaim before smelting the hull and selling the metal in the commodity market." "Okay, let's get to work, and as soon as the money starts to flow from selling the Vulture's modules, I want to fit another fixed beam laser in the third large slot, then turreted pulse lasers and turreted multi-cannons in the medium and small slots – I've got the materials to synthesise plenty of small calibre munitions. It's a pity there are no huge weapons here." This was a long speech for the normally taciturn bounty hunter, but when it came to equipment she knew what she wanted. * Lyra had gone straight to her own quarters in the Anaconda to get changed; then she went to the bridge and sat in the commander's seat which her father had occupied while guiding the ship across the galaxy. Could she do this, she wondered; could she manage to fly this huge beast of a ship on a rescue mission? She would have the bounty hunter helping her, of course, but she still didn't fully trust the woman who seemed to be taking over her life. There wasn't anything Lyra could do in the shipyard, so she decided to visit her new employer – the cyborg Jeeves – and headed off to Jaques Bar. Jeeves was delighted to see Lyra, as evidenced by his convincing cybernetic smile. "I'm so happy you came back – not least because 'Tropic Scena have not managed to poach your services as a waitress." "You have news?" Lyra asked eagerly. "I have studied Griff Grief's flight logs. He spends a large amount of his time in and around the Robigo system; his last known location was at Robigo Mines itself." "And my father?" "I tracked the movements of his personal locator, and they continued to follow closely the course taken by Griff Grief. I can't tell anything beyond that; I can't find his signal. He may or may not still be held prisoner." Lyra couldn't help but feel that Jeeves was concealing something. "So, what happens at Robigo that makes Grief keep going back there?" Jeeves searched for the words. "Robigo Mines is a…human resources hub…that is to say it is the main area in its quarter of the bubble for buying and selling…Short Lifespan Added Value Entities." Lyra easily saw through the euphemism. "You mean to say my father has become a slave?" The cyborg's sympathy circuits were beginning to overheat. "We don't know that for sure," he tried to sound reassuring. "It's far too early to say, but it wouldn't be a bad thing." "Not a bad thing! How can you say that being a slave wouldn't be a bad thing?" Jeeves still struggled a little with human emotions; his thought processes tended to be more logical. "It would be good, Lyra, because it would mean your father was no longer in the clutches of Grief and his wing. Grief is a vicious, sadistic man; the bounty on him is something like half a million and it would be better for your father no longer to be his prisoner. If you want to find him, your starting point should be Robigo." * When Lyra returned to Steptoe's shipyard the Anaconda refurbishment was well under way. One of the 3C beam lasers was already installed and the second was being hoisted into position. It would not be long before the ship was ready for action. The bounty hunter was interested in Lyra's news. "I'm looking forward to meeting Grief again," she said. "You didn't tell me you know him." "Bounty the size of his, course I know him. Tracked him down to Maia and pulled him out of supercruise. He put up a good fight and I almost had him." "What happened?" "He was losing; shields gone; hull less than fifty percent. Then, like the coward you find in every bully, he ran – went and high-waked to a system beyond my jump range. I lost him. That's why I like the range on this 'conda of ours; he wouldn't escape that way again." Lyra didn't fail to notice how Layser referred to the ship as ours. "But Jeeves is right, isn't he? The best option for finding my father is to go to Robigo." Layser nodded. "Before we go, we should try out the weapons – make sure everything is in order." Steptoe came out of his office looking rather pleased with himself. He had become enthusiastic about Lyra's mission in the way that people who prefer to stay put and dream of space travel often do; he strode towards them excitedly. "Listen up," he said. "I've just this minute been in touch with an incoming Type-9. Its commander has brought his family with him and they're planning to settle in Colonia. The T9 is stuffed with all their galactic goods…" The looks on Lyra's and Layser's faces were telling him to come to the point. "…so, when he gets here, later today, he's selling the T9 and all its modules; he's getting something smaller…" Their faces were telling Steptoe urgently to come to the point. "He has a fighter platform installed…with an F63 Condor on board. It's yours if you want it." Mayzee Layser's eyes lit up like it was her last ten birthdays all at once. "Too right we want it! * They were ready for a weapons test. "Why don't you take her out?" Layser suggested to Lyra. "Me?" Lyra said nervously. "Got to do it sometime, kid." "Well, all right," Lyra said, taking her seat at the controls. She ran system checks and found all modules were performing to specification; in particular, turret mode was set to target only – they didn't want any accidental weapons fire at this stage. Getting off the pad was easy enough: vertical thrust, raise the gear, ascend until lined up with the slot. "Now, edge her forward, maybe no more than forty metres per second." Lyra pushed the throttle forward – too much; they were doing a hundred and ten in no time. Layser rested her hand on Lyra's and eased the throttle back. "Now, the 'conda has a very big ; you gotta realise you're sitting at the top of the thing and it goes way down. Make as though to scrape the top of the slot and the rest should get through." Lyra had watched her father do this many times, but it was different when she had to manoeuvre the ship herself. She was certain that she was going to hit the slot; the fluorescent lighting strips were mesmerising as she held her breath, waiting for the graunch. "You're nearly there," Layser said. "Now, rotate with the station as we come out; autorotation only works inside the docking area." "I did it!" Lyra squealed with delight as they cleared the station. The resource extraction site was within a few minutes' flying of Jaques Station. The planetary nebula was busy with bright bursts of mining laser fire and the flitting to and fro of prospector and collector limpets. Incandescent metal and mineral fragments sputtered from the rocks and spun away in random directions. Miners were busy managing their refineries and manoeuvring their ships, but they always kept an eye on their sensors, watching out for the chancers and adventurers lurking behind the larger boulders or cruising through the site like predatory sharks. Lazy pirates allowed miners to do the hard work of gathering the resources and chose the opportune time to strike – that moment being when the miner's cargo hold was full and before any other pirate struck. The rewards were too easy; often a mark would give up their cargo without a shot being fired. Bounty hunters knew that resource extraction sites were like a magnet to criminals, and the security services knew it too. Wings of police ships would often patrol a RES, keeping the peace. In this ecosystem it was essential for bounty hunters to check each target carefully; it wouldn't do to get a bounty on your own head by killing an innocent miner or, even worse, a cop. Lyra scanned a Cobra that clearly wasn't mining; it was using ten percent thrust to move systematically from one miner to the next. "Pieter Volans – clean," she reported to Layser. Layser grunted. "Yeah, right. About as clean as the floor of Heat Sink after a wild wedding barge party has passed through. You might want to fire up the warrant scanner." "What? How? I don't know what to do." "Step through the fire groups until you've selected it. It's this button here to get the next fire group." Lyra cycled a couple of times round the fire groups before Layser realised the kill warrant scanner wasn't configured. "That's why we're here – to iron out these wrinkles," Layser said. "Mayzee, when did you last use an iron?" Lyra mocked looking at Layser's dishevelled clothes. "Good point – bad phrase," Layser took the joke in good humour. "Darn, though, it's a fine feeling being out here again." Layser put the kill warrant scanner into a new fire group and Lyra scanned the Cobra; sure enough Volans had a 35K bounty on his head. The Cobra immediately turned towards them, deploying hardpoints, and responding with a scan of its own. "What do we do – attack?" Lyra asked. "Not yet," Layer warned. "We'd just get a local bounty on ourselves. We move on and wait to see what Volans does. If he attacks a miner, we take him out." A Federal Assault Ship, bristling with weapons, hove into range. There was no pretence at innocence. The pirate headed straight for a Type-6 collecting painite and osmium. [Norma] "What do you have in your hold...excellent…my children will not go hungry tonight!" The railgun ripped through the Type-6's A4 shield like it was made of paper and cannons got to work on the hull. Lyra's scan of the FAS was a formality – but a necessary one – and, of course, the pirate was revealed as WANTED. "Time to step in," Layser said. Lyra immediately jumped up from the pilot's seat and watched as her companion expertly selected weapons, distributed power, and targeted the assault ship. Commander Norma was taken by surprise and was so intent on her seizing her prize that she didn't react quickly enough. While the Assault Ship hesitated, the Anaconda's powerful beam lasers attacked its shields. Norma gave up her attack on the Type-6 and skilfully turned her attention to the Anaconda. The FAS was much more manoeuvrable than the Anaconda and Norma swiftly moved out of range of the gimballed lasers. [Norma] "You'll have to do better than that. Now prepare to meet your maker." [Layser] "Likewise." "Lyra, keep the FAS busy; use the beams when you can; the turrets will keep firing, but they're only small," Layser said as she relinquished control. Lyra was confused. "What? Where are you going?" Layser was leaving the bridge and she called over her shoulder: "Don't worry, the shields will hold. Like I said, just keep shooting." Lyra had no choice; she was under attack – thermal, kinetic, and verbal. [Norma] "You fight like a trader. Come on, turn and fight – oh no, you can't you're in a 'conda. Well, die then." Lyra did what she could. She was entirely new to combat and didn't enjoy firing the weapons, knowing there was a human being at the other end of the laser beams. She accidentally turned off flight assist and found she could turn a little faster, though not as quickly as the Assault Ship could manoeuvre behind her. The 'conda was taking a battering, but Layser was right, the shields were strong – and where was Layser, anyway? By way of answer, another contact appeared on Lyra's radar moving rapidly about the holographic projection. The representation of Norma's ship in Lyra's HUD suddenly showed an onslaught of hits. [Layser] "Is this bird nimble or what!" The Condor flitted about the Assault Ship more like an angry wasp than a graceful bird of prey. Hit after hit pounded on Norma's hull, and while the FAS was trying to fight off the Condor, Lyra had a chance to turn the Anaconda so that all her weapons also found their target. Just before finishing the job, Layser spoke the last rites. [Layser] "Ashes to ashes; stardust to STARDUST!" On the final word the FAS exploded and Lyra saw that they had earned 83K in bounties. Meanwhile, Pieter Volans in the Cobra had decided to make a play for the damaged Type-6. He was pouring fire on to the hull and was rewarded by the sudden ejection into space of twenty tons of metals and minerals. He started to collect his pickings when the Condor flashed through his peripheral vision. [Layser] "Lyra, hit the Cobra, now! It'll have a local bounty for attacking the miner." With little appetite for the killing, but always with their ultimate goal in mind, Lyra targeted the pirate, paused for confirmation of its status, and fired all weapons. "We make a good team," Layser grinned as she joined Lyra on the bridge. "The way you took down that Cobra, well, I couldn't've done it better my own self." Lyra was embarrassed and felt guilty for the death of Volans. "I wish we didn't have to do this." Layser was transformed; her mood was light; her spirits were high; she was back, doing what she did best. "I know, Lyra, but it's a tough and dangerous galaxy we live in. Some things just got to be done, and look – we got 150K in bounties; enough to pay off Drydo and buy us some Quinentian Stills to take to the bubble." Lyra's spirits were also lifted at the thought. "You mean we're really ready to go?" |
The story so far:
Last edited: