Prologue
Commander Reb Kotor reclined on a sensi-foam chair in his Captain’s Lounge underneath the bows of the Anaconda-class starship he had long ago christened Voodoo Child. The chair’s AI massaged the tired muscles in his back as he slowly sipped Lavian brandy from an authentic crystal goblet, a half-smoked cigar from Kamitra smoldered in an ashtray close at hand, his latest “mission accomplished” snoring softly in the giant zero-G bed. Life was good.
The wrap-around, floor-to-ceiling forward window offered a terrific view of the space station’s docks and Kotor enjoyed watching the varied ships come and go, not quite ignoring the regular announcement about taking up space on the landing pad. Kotor took another sip of his brandy and reluctantly keyed the command that lowered the great ship down into the Hangar. The movement disturbed mission accomplished who woke and smiled wanly at him before being overtaken again by exhausted slumber (he hoped) or, more likely the famous Lave Hangover.
As he pondered, he could not help but marvel at his fortune and the day that had changed everything.
His old job at the local Soylent plant on Cayenne, sweeping up the particles that constantly sifted down from the great conveyor systems and shoveling them into the huge wheeled bins that carried the stuff away to who-knows-where was never going to earn him fame or fortune and so he had studied for over three years to earn his License from the Pilot’s Federation.
The very day he earned his Pilot’s License his life had been quite literally turned upside down and it had all started with a note from some lawyer he had never heard of. What was his name?
Sneer. Yeah, that was it, J. Sneer of Sue, Cripple & Sneer Solicitors.
Chapter One
At the local Pilot’s Federation office, Reb had grinned like an idiot when the clerk handed him his license card, smiled and addressed him as Commander.
She handed him two cards, the first his license and the second, an encoded key-card that Kotor recognized as standard all over the planet. Stuck between the two cards was a note, hand written in a very neat writing style on real paper. Reb wanted to ask about it but the clerk had already turned away.
Now he was standing outside on the slide-walk in the blinding sunlight of Cayenne’s blue-white sun, the words on the paper seeming to run together as he tried to make sense of what he was reading. You know the words:
To whom it may concern,
It is our solemn duty to deliver to you a package left with us, from a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous at this time. The package was placed in our care with instructions to be delivered in the event - and only in the event - of your successful membership of the Pilot’s Federation.
We have been so notified of said acceptance, following your grading in the recruitment aptitude exams, and so are carrying out this transaction in the manner as specified by our client’s wishes.
The package is two-fold. Encoded into this transmission is the first part: a secure code. Use this code to access a starship account, pre-configured with your credentials, including a fully paid, indefinite lease, and comprehensive insurance cover. The second part of the package is a credit transfer to your personal account, which I can confirm was successfully completed at the time this transmission was dispatched.
The attached message was also to be delivered to you upon receipt of the access code. We feel this matter has now been resolved to the satisfaction of all parties concerned. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact us. The normal fees of one thousand two hundred credits (1200 CR) per hour (plus Federal Service Tax) apply, plus a one off initial contact fee of five thousand credits (5000 CR).
Yours sincerely;
J. Sneer
On the reverse side, written in a shakier hand than on the front was another message:
You may be puzzled right now as to why you’ve just received this little windfall.
Nothing wrong with that – I’d be worried if you weren’t.
But now get ready for lesson number one. When a golden opportunity comes your way – and trust me, they’re few and far between, my friend – reach out and grab it with both hands. Sometimes it’s clever to ask questions, and sometimes it’s not. This time it’s not.
All you need to know is that my organization has a very specific remit: to seek out those who have the potential to become real movers and shakers, those precious few with the talent to mould and shape the galaxy around them, to create change on a grand scale.
We find them, and then we test them. Consider this your test.
Take the ship. Take the money. No strings, no hidden clauses. Do with them what you will.
Blaze your own trail.
Impress me, perhaps you’ll learn more.
A Friend
Kotor stood for a moment, blinking in the harsh sunlight, wondering how many others had stood in this very spot, reading these very words, their lives and fortunes possibly changed instantly and forever. Whistling softly, Reb started walking towards the port.
