[IC] Burning Stars

[Fuel?]

Subspace gateway Troy, lane UK222398
ISTC-7039, Designation Gomorrah, custom-made yacht.
Registration Status: Marked for investigation 04|02|1979:2215. Flag reason: Suspected participation in illicit activity near the Verge. Investigation status: delayed for unspecified reason as of 06|02|1979:1400

"Yes, Yes, I'm well fucking sure this couldn't wait." A frustrated voice echoed in the cabin. "It's not like we barely left Troy, and the local traffic control was nice enough to remind me to change the plates."

"Come on, I'm sure your guests can wait a while longer. Last I recall Joker, you weren't exactly ferrying diplomats on your partyboat." The communication channel answered. "Just a question."

Caito sighed, stretching and sitting in his chair. His status in the criminal underworld brought in some perks, but real leather and wood in his own cabin had its price. Dealing with people big enough to call him at any time was certainly a part of it. "I killed people for less." the former hitman groaned. "Shoot."

"I love your enthusiasm." The comm replied. "I assume you have what I gently requested last time we talked?"

"The shiney?" Jett asked, playing around with a black-and-green cylinder. "It cost me a pretty penny, and in real money. Had to pay off the best and show up myself - sure is worth quite a lot."

The commline cracked with laughter. "Always the money routine, Caito. What do you spend all this cash on anyway..."

"Jettie?" A female voice sounded through the intercom from the other side of the door. "Oh come on, don't lock the on me door like that... I'm your guest, remember? Where's the gentleman captain gone?"

"Yeah, hear it?" Black Joker put the comms on hold and stuffed the cylinder into his pocket. "'Guests' are calling, all work and no fun. We'll talk money in 98." He slowly headed for the door and pressed the unlock control. The doors began to slide open...

12 minutes later, New Aberdeen VI docking bay
###ERROR: IDCODE MISSING###, Designation: Horizon, Shinobi-class cruiser.
Registration Status: In order.
Warning: Ship poses...

"...a natural hazard due to yellow-flag class structural damage and a potential reactor containment breach. Now when did I we get it fixed? That's right. Four months ago." The pilot's metal hand slammed into the communication's console. "Control, this is the Horizon. Mind rechecking the manifests from Triton Technologies? I'm pretty sure we patched up that breach months ago."

"Acknowledged Horizon, that's about the third complaint you make about it. Two more and maintenance will probably hire someone from InfoServ to fix it." Saying that the Aberdeen control sounded bored would be a huge understatement. "Burn free, just don't burn the decks."

"Yeah, sure..." Jayce muted the inbound transmission and confirmed that the ship was flight-ready. "...fuck you." The hangar doors opened just enough to fit the sleek cruiser through when it leapt forward with a loud roar, igniting the scarce remains of oxygen left in the bay. "You are aware that someday they'll revoke your docking rights. And that your pilot's license already has 23 points for violating traffic rules." Horizon's AI spoke observing the scorch marks on the hangar doors through the ship's Rear Mirror. "And there you go, we've received a message from Mr. Caito. Curious."

"Jett's got a shitty timing, remember? Bet he's got some well-paid crusade to set up." The pilot snickered, setting course for the only gateway in Aberdeen. "It is curious because it doesn't contain much besides coughing, wheezing and some hard to identify noises."

Jayce flinched and enabled the intercom. "On your toes sleepyheads, it's a lovely morning and we've got a call that'd better be Caito beating some dissatisfied customer senseless with his answering machine, or this day just got a whole lot more interesting." He turned the autopilot on and engaged Cruise Drive. "Chip will rain you in after clearing up the transmission. And yes, I did buy coffee." with a sigh, the pilot put his legs on the console and turned up the music. If something involved Black Joker, getting shot at was inevitable and he planned to enjoy every last remaining bit of serenity.

And there we're off to adventure, to being jerks and to be in SPACE. Awesome intros are a go.

[typhoonoftempest]

Nothing like bringing in the first full year on the job with an engagement that will require all of us. Or most of us. Whatever the case, we really should put more money into this boat. Olos blissfully strolled down the hallway ceiling. The grav-emitters were malfunctioning again, second time this week alone. All well, he thought, It's not everyday one has to walk past the lights.

He gave a polite nod to a crewman as they passed, the crewman tipping his hat to return the politeness done to him. He eventually came to an intersection, where Olos stuck his cane out to test the gravity. It pulled in the right direction. With some deftness, he propped his cane against the opposing wall, and walked back to the floor. This was a taxing ordeal for him, but it was better than taking a misstep and ending up on the ceiling in a pile. He tumbled rather clumsily into the hallway before his strength gave out, but was able to get up on his own. He looked both ways while clearing the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. No one was around but him. And the cameras. Always the cameras. Hopefully someone in engineering will get the message. Olos pressed onward, and eventually came to the conference room. There, he took note of the coffee already brewed and stepped in.

Let's hope today will be a good day, he thought to himself as he crossed the room, taking a silent note of all already in the room, and those just coming in.

[Deunan]

"In the name of all engine designers and their ancestors. I curse the person who made this engine." Grumbled the woman, with hands deep inside the FTL engine of the Horizon. It took all her effort to not continue cursing.

She hated the FTL engine on the ship, and loved it to bits. In her mind there was no creature just like it. So broken, so capricious and yet always pulling true. Sometimes Khala believed it was actually alive and mocking her.

As far as she knew, there was never a time in all history of the ship when the engine was perfectly synched. It was always miscalibrated. Always a few points of percentage away from the norm. But in the end, when push came to show it never let them down. Unlike engines on freighters which hummed in perfect unison with the ship for months and then suddenly turned black, the engine on the horizon often screamed and shouted in protest, told everyone to fuck off but it never ever disconnected when it was necessary.

The woman sighed and returned to her calibrations. It was peacefull at least. She and her calibrations.

[Master Chief]

Racnourq yawned as he rose out of bed, rubbing his eyes with a groan. He trudged over to the bathroom in his pajamas and nightcap adorned with action poses of Monster Cocksworth, stifling another yawn as he grabbed his toothbrush and squeezed a glob of toothpaste on -- cinnamon rush, of course. He swished with some mouthwash and washed his face before shuffling back to his cot and pulling out a clean set of clothes, pulling them on, still half-asleep. Man, he hated mornings.

"Yoooo--" he mumbled as he stepped into the conference room, turning aside to walk past Olos, his voice trailing off at the end. "What's uppppp--"

He shuffled over to the coffee, missing the handle a couple of times before finally securing a firm grip on the black plastic, pouring himself a large cup fit for a large man and mixing in a bit of cream and a packet of sweetener. He took ~a big swig~ before taking a seat, his head dropping to the table with a groan.

[Mokino]

Harley flashed Olos a quick amused smile before it vanished into her normal mask as he entered the room.

She reclined back in her seat at the head of the table, feet resting upon it as she took a sip of her tea. Her eyes scanned the mostly empty room. The woman sighed.

"Looks like I'm going to have to drill you all on proper etiquette and punctuality....again" she muttered softly.

[typhoonoftempest]

"I see we have more or less... all" Chip's snarky voice commented on the crew that has arrived. "I've got good news and bad news. First of all, basing on certain... events, the New Aberdeen division of Triton Technologies decided to waive all repair and maintenance fees. Which spares us about eight hundred and fifty thousand standard, plus the cost of reactor fuel."
The AI paused for a moment, letting the good news sink in. "The bad news is, we've received a call from Gomorrah, and I confirm about sixty-five percent possibility of Mr. Caito being in serious trouble, not including the state of severe intoxication. While it may be a false alarm of sorts, his yacht has not registered with the outbound gateway even though it is past the travel schedule."

"So Joker's bit off more than he can chew," Harley mused idly as she balanced the sharp end of a dagger on one finger, "What else is new? He's about as punctual as most of this lot."

"Shouldn't have let the guy go on his own" Olos quipped as he poured himself some coffee after Rac nearly emptied the pot "he's getting sloppy for his age... ...or he's playing us all for fools. I would for laughs." he sat down, enjoying the aroma of the brew before taking a sip. Black, just the way he liked it.

The tech about the group raised her eyebrow. "I'm not sure what's the good and what's the bad news. Why are they actually waiving the cost?”

"I've checked the invoices three times with Triton representatives and they're all clear. The furthest I got was that we are 'a loyal customer'". The machine emitted an immitation of snicker, somehow hampered by its limited vocal capabilities. "In addition we've got the usual update on politics, job market and apparently rumours of recent ore prices spike being caused by a single Contested Territory magnate. In any way, knowing Jett's line of work the Gomorrah is probably loaded with illegal weaponry, alcohol and drugs so I've witheld the automatical call to the local authorities. His ship is not responding to hails either."

"Then I say the invoice is the bad news. The fact that the joker will not harass for a few days the good one. Anyone else agree?" The tech laughed, mirthless.

"I must agree to some extent, " Harley said with a chuckle, "It's been more...peaceful than normal aboard ship. However, we can't forget that we rely on his contacts. My sources are good, but his are also a useful asset."

"there's a good chance methinks" Olos nodded as he propped his feet on the desk while still enjoying his little bit of coffee "though we should deal with that later and, for now, find the Immortal Jett "Black Joker" Caito."

"Should I set course for the location of Gomorrah, then?" Chip asked. "To my knowledge, and to his laziness in changing license registration he was last spotted departing Troy system in a hurry and was registered on the inbound gate, taking course "

"oh let our glorious leader decide." The tech said as she turned around. "I'm just going to grab a coffee and go look at the engine."

"Just do it," Harley ordered tersely, "Seems we're pulling the boss' ass out of the fire again."

---------------------------------------------------------

Gateway UK222398, Contested Space - six hours later
ISTC-7039, Designation Gomorrah, custom-made yacht.

The Gomorrah drifted in solitude of space, just outside of the gate. It's lights were on and all power readings seemed fine, but the thrusters were completely cold. The comm channel was clear of SOS signals. As the team boarded it, nobody greeted them - the ship was fully functional, but the crew simply vanished.

"We should check out engineering. There should be a black box coupled to the engine. Something doesn't feel right here." Said the engineer.

"Is there any way we can find out if something is alive? I'd rather not get shot by waiting pirates. Or Jett."

"I think we should head to engineering also," Harley stated, "This place smells like ozone. There was a firefight here recently. If they're aboard ship they've most likely secured the bridge and engineering, but if we take the core we have the upper hand. Besides, we should be able to get into the security system, what little this spruced up boat has, from there."

It wasn't until engineering that they encountered the first sign of the crew - one of Caito's "security" that consisted mostly of well-paid former pirates. His face was frozen in an expression of surprise - as if he never expected to be shot at this precise moment. The man who could be considered a chief engineer lay nearby - struck down not by a bullet, but by some large, blunt object. Even to an untrained eye, the engine controls showed signs of primitive tampering - the screens were broken, cases ripped open and cables were sticking out.

"Whoever did this was in a hurry, knew what they were doing. Commandos?"

"This is the work of a skilled assassin," Harley whispered as she inspected the fallen security worker, "Poor bastard didn't see it coming." She tuned her internal radar to cover the engineering area in more detail. "Stay sharp," she hissed, "I get the feeling we're not alone in here." Slowly she made her way to one of the nearest terminals; the intercom from what she could tell.

Olos glanced about, tucking his cane into this arm. He then pulled out a gun, shorter than a foot but taller, it looked like a box with a small barrel sticking out of it. Carefully, he pulled the slide back and eased it as it returned, chambering the first round.

Racnourq took a glance at Olos' gun and chuckled before swinging up the Big Daddy, cocking the weapon with a loud and satisfying clack. He turned to him, eyebrows raised, before turning back to the scene at hand.

The engineer breathed in deep. She had a feeling that the ship was filled with creepy crawlies all around. "Well someone cover me. I'll do a dump of the box."

Harley muttered to herself as she slipped into the shadows. Vas'Aran was always too damn loud; the idiot didn't understand the concept of an ambush at all. She pulled out a small electronic box, sticking it to the floor below the intercom before creeping into the darkest corner she could find.

"There is a time to be subtle, you know" Olos frowned in annoyance at Rac's disregard. Though now may be a time for a brick like him. He quickly moved over to some cover, a half-gutted console that sat in the middle of the room.

"Subtle, pfft. If I can't spell it I don't use it," Racnourq huffed, stomping up beside the engineer, his huge carapace of armor acting as a shield. "I got yo' back, you just do your little hacky thing or whatever."

Khala ignored the others as she worked. They knew what they had to do. And she knew what she had to do herself. It was a question of a moment to make a quick recent dump of the blackbox. Thankfully this was an easy engine to access.

The tension grew, and nothing seemed to happen. The ship was eerily quiet - it seemed like whoever was responsible for killing those two took care of the rest of the ship. The intercom was still online - none of the ship's internal systems seemed damaged from here.

"This is weird." She mumbled. "According to this something triggered the engines to disconnect and throw in a break reversal. But there's no communication from the helm or AI to it."

"What's weirder is I ain't shot someone yet," Big Beef said. "Where are the varmints? They gotta still be here."

"Tis is wierd..." Olos trailed off. Could they be waiting in Jett's office? In ambush? that had to be the second spot they should visit. No use going anywhere else. Unless.... "...hey Engie" using a nickname he frequently used to address Khala "could we still scuttle this boat if needed?"

Harley scowled in her corner, extending her radar in a sweep of the ship. After a moment she stood up and walked deliberately into the light. The assassin bent down and retrieved the stun mine before tapping the button to call the bridge. "Good evening chaps," she said into the microphone, "If there's anyone who can tell me exactly what caused this sorry state of disarray I would very much like to meet them in the galley. Over tea, perhaps?"

"If you ask me, this was an inside job. There's no way, you could send some long distance kill command like this. And the suprised guy." Khala looked at the shadows around. "Maybe they're already gone."

Maybe we should split up and search the ship. That always works," Racnourq offered.

Maybe we could try run a diag on the reactor. These haulers tend to have it directly linked into the navcomp. Your call oh glorious leader."

"Rather foolish if there's a gang of roving ninja deathsquads hiding out somewhere," Harley said as she found a seat and lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, the soft glow lighting her face momentarily, "I'm not picking anything of the sort up, though. There's nothing alive here except us, not even the usual vermin."

The intercom buzzed in response. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" a distorted voice shouted. "SIX. HOURS. You are late. SIX. HOURS! Now I'd love to hear an explanation about THAT, Caito!"

You really think there's ninjas here?" Racnourq turned to face Harley, his eyes wide, before the intercom cut him off. "Is that them?!"

"Afraid Mr. Joker is unavailable, " Harley replied, completely deadpan, "But if you would like to leave a message he will get back to you."

"And what are you, one of his girl-toys?" The voice, frustrated by Harley's tone answered. "Look, just... wake him up, put him in the shower if he's drunk and get him talking."

Olos nearly jumped at the suddenness of the shout, but then relaxed when he noticed Harley. He then began to work the gun, as he didn't want live rounds in the chamber as he went about. His armor and shield wouldn't stop it if he shot himself.

"Afraid not," Harley replied, her tone unchanging, "But it's impolite to not introduce yourself first when speaking to a lady. Men and their manners these days..."

"Though when it comes to unknown situations, I'm glad Rac here breaks tradition for obvious reasons."

"Smack talk to would-be survivors is nontraditional?" Asked Khala, somewhat stupefied by all of this.

"The Beef aims to please, baby," Racnourq chuckled with a fistpump. "Woo!"

"I call this curious at finest..." The man's voice became much more calm. "My name is Miller, and I admit that I find it strange to find the ship finally answering to my hails after six hours of complete silence. With people I don't know."

"thee Miller?" Olos asked, flabergasted. Why would a man that has the vast majority of the PMC market by the balls be on a hulk like this? It certainly would be his handywork.

"Maribeth Pinslane, salvage crew," Harley responded diplomatically, "We overheard a distress call. I'm afraid the crew's dead and there appears to be no sign of Black Joker."

"I've seen a fair share of ships going down. Let's move it to somewhere with a visual suite, the bridge or Caito's office." Miller's voice answered. "I'm looking forward to a few answers." The device beeped, cutting them off.

"I do recommend we check the nav data on the reactor first. The man has waited for six hours. He ca bear another half an hour." Said Khala

Harley opened her pack, retrieving her signature jacket which she slipped over her armor. It was best to keep up appearances after all. "Someone guard her. I want to speak with this Miller. I'm sure the boss won't object to us using his office. Not that he can at the moment anyways."

"This guy is no fool, and he could have very well had boarded this ship on his own. I'd be very, very careful Harley. I'll go with you as backup, for all it counts." Olos replied, making sure his cane was ready.

"She's safe with me," Racnourq gave a thumbs up as he stepped back to guard Khala. "Besides, talking ain't really my thing. Bring me a souvenir from Jett's office though, I bet he's got some nice stuff in there."

"Always" Olos replied as he put his hand on his hip. Only Harley would have noticed the two outer-most fingers fingering the latch for his Browning pistol.

"Don't forget who you're talking to," Harley said, flicking her wrists. In a second, pistols were in both of the assassin's hands. "They don't call me 'No Witness Harle' for nothing."

The office's light came online, presenting a rather grisly sight. A young woman was laying on the floor with a large-caliber handgun in her hand, her face twisted in a grimace of surprise just like the guard they saw earlier. Caito himself wasn't in a better state - his body was stretched on the desk, as is he tried to reach the intercom in a last effort before he bled out. As Olos and Harley walked in, the comm system activated, projecting an image on the window. One of a tall man of muscular build, visibly unfitting a typical white-collar shirt, with a gun holstered the old-fashioned way under his shoulder. Miller - the man who held over half the Fringe's mercenary market - looked at them, frowning. Now this is a rather... unpleasant welcome to see. Last I saw Mr. Caito was well and alive - if you weren't the team he praised so much, I'd begin to have second thoughts about this whole encounter.

"I'd always thought I'd see his body in some corridor, half-gone from a hail of gunfire trying to get one last blaze of glory. Not this." sorrow crept out as Olos stepped around the woman, following invisible footsteps that the assailant would have left. He followed until he was behind Caito's desk.

"There isn't much I can tell that you can't see yourself." Miller spoke from the screen. The video seemed to lag, indicating a fair distance. "Fuck." he reached to his pocket and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, then lit one. "I knew it was a dangerous thing, didn't know it would bring this one down."

"Should I now be concerned about this 'it'?" Olos asked, twisting mockery with an actual seriousness.

"'It'." The PMC magnate snickered. "Perhaps I should start off by saying what 'it' is. It a Dasa artifact. A storage device, one recovered from an old subspace charting station. You know how much artifacts are worth, Mr. Tarquin?"

"'bout a dread methinks." Olos replied. Given Miller's 'relationship' with Caito, it didn't surprise him that his name was already known. T'was fair, given that Miller was already known.

Miller nodded. "I've funded exploration efforts in this regions of Uncharted Space. This station was tasked with charting the regions of subspace - including points belonging to the Dasa empire. Planets, shipyards, cities - all full of alien artifacts, ripe for the taking of the one who can crack it and get to this information."

"I'd certainly be something to kill for. Got any idea who would be first?"

"Oh, there are people out there. People hiding behind false names, and the gates of the Core." The mercenary said. "They shut down my laboratory. I made a deal with Jett to work on breaking through the device's encryption... and am about to extend the offer to you aswell."

I'm certain we would have gone at it anyway, though under Jett's orders." Olos paused, and looked back at the lifeless corpse next to him. The blood from the body had soaked the papers and electronics on the desk. Hell is going to be paid, he thought, no doubt there. "I'll consult with my teammates on this incredible offer. I'm sure Engie would be thrilled with such a task, and beef won't care. I don't have any knack with computers worth a squirt o piss." His accent kept flipping on him, and he cursed himself for not being consistent.

"My agreement with Jett was for a share of twnty-five percent off any archaeological findings while I supply the workforce and whatever is needed to get the artifacts where they should be." Miller stated. "I'm not saying it will be easy... I myself have barely any idea about breaking the encryption of this thing alone. From all I've gathered, those devices do work as recorders on their own. Accessing this data should solve our little murder here aswell."

"Well Miller, you're good at this, so I'll accept on everyone's behalf." Olos cursed himself again, this time about not stopping at the restrooms prior. Apparently, nature called Harley.

"Glad to hear that. Something tells me the Core is involved in all this mess, and those aren't the people I'd take lightly. I'll be in touch." The communication cut, leaving Tarquin in the empty office.

[Fuel?]

Horizon, 4 hours later

"Please wait. Computing." Chip reported. After several minutes of grinding through the numbers and contact lists, the machine finally unfroze, speaking.

"As it stands, I lack the computing power and algorythmic knowledge to crack the Device's encryption myself. However, there are a few leads we could follow." the computer began to display results on the map and among known contacts. "First of all, this is an archaeological finding. ISTC does its best to keep tabs on those, and they may be a lead on decrypting the contents. Frankly, that may lead to dealing with the authorities..."

"...aaand I wouldn't have anything against that." Jayce chipped in. "They got Caito, okay? Now: we have the biggest shark in the pond contracting us for serious cash on a device some crazy-ass assassin will kill us for. Let's hand it over to the first cop we find and leg it before they figure out what it is. Last job got us shot at. This job? I won't even run the numbers, but find me one insurance agent that'll cover the costs of repair for this run."

The AI disregarded his ramblings and simply moved on. "Many independent companies and groups have an interest in the remains of Dasa civilization. I know Bluesky is most likely out of the picture..." the computer seemed to look at Harley. "...but given that examining the Dasa genetic material led to creating the Gifted, I'm pretty sure Sial or Aneris Vas'Aran could be interested."

"Them and any other bickering vulture. We may aswell ask Miller himself, or contact the Children of Sol." the pilot shrugged, heading towards the exit. "Or, I don't know... cram more circuit boards up Chip's snarky backside and code some fancy illegal codebreaking algos into it."

[Deunan]

"My mother?" Khala asked herself aloud. "No, that's definitely a no go. If there is a single person inside of this galaxy I'm happy to be on no speaking terms with, it is her. There's nothing I could tell her and nothing she could tell me that would reach us over the relatively impasse on our relationships. It can be almost quantified on the sheer level of words not said in communication." She paused once she realised she was rambling on and most likely leading the rest of the team to ignore what she had to say..again.

"Sial might be a different matter. But I don't believe he has access to the means to actually track it down. But I do have an aquaintance, friend, former colleague who might know a word or two about people who might know how to get past the locks. Did I tell you people about Leigh before? I'm sure I have. If any of you listened from time to time.""

[Master Chief]

"I don't know a damn thing about all this alien mumbo jumbo, but I ain't one to run from a fight, and someone done picked a fight with us," Racnourq growled, large meaty hands on the table, his veins bulging like rolls of quarters. "They fucked with the bull, and now they get the horns, I say." Racnourq jammed his sausage-like finger into the table as he spoke.

"We all need to ask ourselves: what would Caito do? What would Cocksworth do? They'd nut up and suit up. Anyone who doesn't is just a bitch."

[Mokino]

"We don't really have to ask Bluesky, or any of them for that matter," Harley noted before noticing the giant's outburst, "calm yourself Racnourq. What you suggest is amount to suicide at this juncture. You're obviously thinking with the wrong organ...again."

The assassin took a seat at the head of the table. 'The way I see it," she stated, "Is that whoever was after this thing is likely also the ones who are most knowledgeable about it. Or, at the very least, their backers are. I'll be frank; Miller is not to be trusted. He's one of the most likely men to have arranged Caito's sudden end. For now, we play nice with him but we also need to make sure we don't give him too much to work with. If Black Joker died for this thing there must be more here than appears at first...."

She paused for a moment to let her words sink in. It was always like this; the game of speech as she'd been taught. The pieces always had to be arranged in just the right manner for maximum effect.

"Khala, bring Leigh in, discreetly, " she instructed, "Tell him we may a lead on a new dig site and see if he knows who'd be interested. I'll dissimanate some gossip on the networks just to see if we get any other interesting bites as well. For now," she eyed Racnourq again, "...we must exercise patience. We can't rush into a fight without knowing who our enemy is and where they've placed all of their pieces."

[typhoonoftempest]

"Rushing into any endeavor typically ends in disaster," Olos finally piped up, swirling around his long-empty mug while eying Rac "though there are those who get lucky, I suppose. Now, as for the good doctor..." he leaned forward "perhaps ensuring that he has a student or two on tow with him will get us results, especially if they are the 'promising' kind. Sometimes the best perspective is a young one."

[Master Chief]

"Yeah, yeah," Racnourq waved them off with a puff, pushing off of the table as he paced around the room. "Course, that's why you guys are the thinkers and I ain't, so I'll go along with whatever. Long as it ain't running with our tails between our legs."

[typhoonoftempest]

"Trust me, good sir" Olos continued off of Rac's thought train "if we were to 'run away', it would only be to get into a better position to fire from as well as to 'reasses' the situation."

[Fuel?]

Alloa starsystem, transit route UK2628093 - Troy
ISTC-312 Tsalavor, Mercury-class freighter.

"Now that is unusual." One of the sensor operators turned his chair and looked at the captain from above a wall of displays. "I don't remember Alloa-094 having a botched up mass readout."

Leigh lazily brought up the starmap. "What do you reckon?" he asked checking for known traffic reports. "Debris?"

"Pirates." The technician threw a worried look. "The mass readouts are too accurate for it to be a few chunks of metal floating about. It's got to be."

"Quit babbling Johnny-boy and tell me what size it is?" Burr flipped a few switches, sealing the bridge's fragile transparent-aluminum windows behind a sheet of titanium plating.

The operator's hands were shaking as he queried the sensors for mass data. "Cruiser-sized ship, and who knows what's onboard! Could be military-grade weaponry, could be one of those cruise jammers we keep hearing about!"

"Can it..." the captain put his hand on the ship's throttle and began to push it forward, beyond a carved-in red line. The speed gauges, visibly changed from their stock model began to climb. "... and strap in."

Distance to the gate was rapidly shrinking. Leigh grinned at the speed readout, still climbing as Khala's FTL upgrades pushed the Tsalavor's engine systems to the very limit. "Sir we have no guns and no..." Before the operator could finish his sentence, Tsalavor's brakes and reverse thrusters kicked in pulling the freighter out of Cruise.

When the sensors automatically reactivated, no lock-on warning was heard. The communications stayed silent, and the only trace of the pirate cruiser remained on the outer hull in the form of a large dent - along with the massively deformed cruiser spiralling away at several hundred kilometers per second. "... seat... belts." The sensors operator groaned.

"Shame on a pirate who gets lazy on the speed calculation, I guess." Burr Leigh stood up and retracted the window plating. Behind him, the commline buzzer went off. "Speak of the devil who saved our hides yet again. I'll take it in my quarters, Duff - take the navigation." he strolled out of the bridge and immediately turned his mobile receiver on, connecting to the Horizon. "Hey Mouth, glad to hear you're still breathing. No problems with ol' Jett?"

[Deunan]

Khala watched in sheer horror the stat readout about the Tsalavor as it was coming in. It was as if watching your own child be abused. From what she could see, the engine was cooling down too fast, the initial temps were too high, the burn to full. Everything was not right.

"God bloody damn Leigh. What the hell did you do the poor old girl's engine. The whole thing is .25 percent off the chart. I spent weeks calibrating it. Weeks. The next time we're seeing each other, I'm gonig to comb trough her engines with a goddamn fracture scanner. And don't you even dare not letting me on board. I know I don't work there anymore, but you're not soiling my engine."

The captain just chuckled inside. It was like Khala to be as protective about the engines she worked on in the past present and future.

"Khal, I appreciate the call. But I don't think you're calling me about inwhat sorry state the Tsal's engine is without you. What's the problem?"

"Leigh, I need to cash in a favour. Info mostly."

"Alright girl, talk up."

"We've got a locked database, information circuit. Top of the line encryption, which I think not even my own mother's company could dig trough without external help. And I know you know people that know what to do. Also a techhistorian might be in order. Since it was found on an archeodig. Which is odd, since the security and encryption is way ahead of anything we can take on on this ship."

"Alright Khal. I know a few people who might be able to help you. But I can't just give out their names over the air. We need to see each other other and send the stuff over wire or face to face. You know what. Our next stop is the Arisiae. Should be a better place for it than most. We'll be there roughly for a week. So if you can reach us by then we can meet up.

Khala indeed did remember the Arisiae. The trade hub of the loca sector, surouded by multiple gates within quick reach. It was a gian floating station built into the innards of an old asteroid excavation. The miners left once the ore ran dry, but the traders stayed behind. And with them the thieves, murders and shippers of everthing.

"Understood. And Leigh."

"Yeah?"

"Fear the fracture scanner."

-----------------------------

Now came the harder part. Actually convincing the horizon's crew, that they would want to be anywhere near the Arisiae.

[Fuel?]

"Whoa whoa whoa there." Jayce's gesture could be best described as 'uncontrollable flailing of arms.' "I've seen the Horizon shot at, sure. They blew holes in the hull, sure. But Arisiae? I mean, okay - let's say we somehow get past the whatever local pirates hijacked to negotiate a toll at gunpoint. The local scavengers will probably dismantle us in the docking bay!"

"According to the reports, there have been no recorded events of shots fired outside of Arisiae gateways since the Flaming Sword pirate clan seized control several years ago." The ship's computer spoke with slight hints of tiredness in its voice. "The gate toll is, in fact, lower than the usual ISTC we pay."

The pilot shrugged. "Smartass. Right - I'll take you to Arisiae. But I see one person with a screwdriver too close to us, and the local Baron will be paying for a new paintjob."

"I feel entitled to remind that ever since the semi-uncontrolled descent into the atmosphere of Erskine four while under fire from an Eagle's Legion battlecruiser we don't have a paintjob." Chip spoke, as if unwilling to leave the last words to the pilot.

[Deunan]

"And we could use a person with a screwdriver. In fact we could use a legion of them to finally reaffix the port armour plates." Bluntly added Khala.

[Mokino]

"The hull may work to our benefit," Harley smirked, "Not much value in a piece of scrap like us. After all, we're" she tapped out a few strokes on the keyboard next to her, "a sewage hauler with a containment breach."

[typhoonoftempest]

"glad to see something still works well." chimed in Olos, his head still aching from not having the proper dose of caffeine in a while

[Fuel?]

Horizon, Middle of Nowhere

"Well last I recall Eagles were the ones shooting at us, so maybe for a change Flaming Sword pirates won't. Being you know... enemies." Jayce rose from his chair and headed to the cockpit.

In the empty spot of space, between deserted planets of one of the thousands deserted starsystems around, a single speck of barely-warm metal suddenly lit up as an EM signature. With a high-pitched howl that radiated through every single loose screw and bolt of the vessel, Horizon's engines woke up - launching the ship into Cruise velocity, headed for the nearest gateway.

Burning Stars
Episode I: The Devils and the Detail

Following Jett Caito's mysterious demise, the intrepid crew recovered an ageless artifact that belongs to an old-extinct race of insectoid aliens that humans exterminated. Contracted by Miller to find a way to decipher it's secrets, estimated to be worth billions, they head to the legenedary pirate station of Arisiae - to get some answers from Khala's old friend, a freighter pilot by the name Burr Leigh...

"That went well." Jayce disabled the communication's systems. For a pirate station, Arisiae's traffic control was far nicer than the Aberdeen's - the docking permission was granted without pulling any maintenance records, and the pilot directed Horizon towards the hulking installation.

Arisiae itself was a reminder of the old colonization days. After the asteroid was depleted, its internal structure became abandoned - no government structure ever cared to modernize it. It was eventually settled by outlaws and people who sought safety in numbers away from the corrupt government of the Fringe. Arisiae was slowly rebuilt to accomodate more and more people.

ISTC classified the station as a navigational hazard - a station of smugglers and thieves, without modernizations that were required on more important stations within the fringes. The docking bay opening before the Horizon was an old, dual door airlock-type guiderail and mooring fixtures littered the outside. The station probably exceeded the technical "docking limit" a long time ago and at least a few of the bigger ships outside seemed permanently attached to the station with makeshift corridors. It disgusted the core, irritated the ISTC - but was the very definition of Fringe's spirit to it's people.

"Docking request accepted, horizon. Flaming Swords clan welcomes you aboard the Arisiae." The now-automated voice spoke through the ship's communication line as a pair of blast doors sealed behind the ship and the airlock began to repressurize. "We are currently experiencing some technical difficulties, but by formality need to remind you that some cargo is still considered illegal on this station, including Boozepill and walnuts. Have a pleasant da-" The machine's words were drowned in the sound of an explosion as soon as the second blast doors opened, letting the rail-guided Horizon into the station's innards.

The ship was narrowly missed by a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher projectile whose owner was now laying on the floor, nearly beheaded by a large-caliber handheld weapon. "Jamming the station outbound signal, motherfuckers! Mouth! You hearin' me? I'd tell you to get the fuck out, but we need you the fuck in!" Leigh's voice came in via the internal communications. "Corsair's gone for a few HOURS and THIS shit breaks out! We're holding the bar steady, but those are really ferocious sons of b-" his voice was cut by a loud detonation on the other side.

Below them, the hangar was in chaos. A small group of soldiers dressed in black was taking cover in a pile of shipping containers that was used to smash their shuttle. Despite being outnumbered, there seemed to be far fewer casualties on their side than among the local citizens' - an uncoordinated herd of shady types armed with things ranging from pistols to grenade and missile launchers. Without a thought, Jayce hit the intercom switch. "Drop that coffee and grab a gun, people" he opened the hidden compartment near the main steering console and ensured that his 'just in case' assault rifle is still there. The docking rail was placing Horizon in the middle of this hangar fight - straight between the goons in black and the herd. "And hope someone's goons below us don't have more missiles!"

[Master Chief]

"Well, dress me up and get me a cake, it must be my fuckin' birthday!" Racnourq cheered, humming to himself as he practically skipped back to grab his big ol' gun. He hefted it up one-handed, dashing back to the side of the ship and staring at the gunfight happening through a window. Racnourq decided that he just couldn't wait any longer to get in on the fun and, with a running start, dove straight through the reinforced glass, shards exploding out and scattering as Big Beef dropped to the ground with a thunderous roar and a crash, cratering the floor below as his massive boots slammed down.

"GET SOME" he bellowed, firing dozens of grenades a second into the horde of unorganized militants, hootin' and hollerin' the whole time. He held his Steadfast one-handed, the other arm splayed out to the side in a "get some" pose, the grenade launcher slamming up against his superhuge armor and ringing out amongst the carnage.

[Mokino]

Harley simply smiled as the shot struck; she'd known this was a risk.

Still, Racnourq had done exactly as she expected him too; he was always a good diversion while she did her own work. She headed to the closest airlock and wedged open the exterior door. Carefully, Harley leaned out from the body of the ship, sweeping with the Lucky Lady until she found her target. There. Someone had carelessely left some fuel tanks not far behind the black-suited infantry. The mastermind took careful aim and fired.