After months of scrambling, disappointments, dead ends, and
what seemed like plain, old, bad luck, they had hit what appeared to be a
jackpot of a job. Tray Porthos, captain of the Mk IV Firefly class freighter
Tsunami, received a wave over the Cortex from Mr. Xue, a notoriously nefarious
job broker and disreputable businessman based out of Booty Bay, about an
untouched derelict in a remote sector and his broker’s fee was minimal – just
one, specific supply container and the need for utmost discretion and
timeliness. It wasn’t often you came across virgin derelicts with full crop,
food, and medical supply manifests, though, so the need for silence and speed
was a no-brainer. As soon as word got out, vultures from across several systems
would be out to scavenge the dead for anything that was worth a damn.
Of course Tray didn’t ask questions, so he didn’t know how
Xue may have come across such prime information, or even why the normally steep
broker’s fee was so light. In his line of business, you didn’t look a gift
horse in the mouth, you certainly didn’t ask inconvenient questions - not if
you wanted to ever get another job, anyway – and you most definitely didn’t ask
questions when the person answering was someone as sinister as Mr. Xue. All
told, the job was big enough to warrant hiring on more crew, and would still
have them all sitting pretty for a good, long while.
Given the short notice of the job, he grabbed what folks
were around and looking for work out of Booty Bay: Mikie Rhiadra and Davion
Holmeforth. It wasn’t a full crew, but it was enough, and his pilot, Imrhien
Fargis, knew full well how to fly under the radar in order to keep anybody from
getting curious, which would hopefully buy them the time they needed. Tray and
Imrhien had decided not to give any details to either until they were well
underway. It wasn’t that Mikie and Davion couldn’t be trusted, but you never
knew who might say the wrong thing to the wrong person in passing thinking it
was harmless, and as the old saying goes, “loose lips sink ships.”
The journey out to the derelict was uneventful. Not wanting
to raise any eyebrows, or run into any predators picking off the ships straying
off the beaten path, Imrhien kept Tsunami in regular shipping lanes until she
could deviate her course without notice. It wasn’t until they came upon the
derelict, a hulking freighter that easily dwarfed the firefly, that any hint of
unease took root in any of their guts.
Set lazily adrift in the void of space, she was spinning
very slowly on all three axes, suggesting there was no power in the ship, and
that the distant gravity well of the nearby gas giant had begun needling the
vessel, sluggishly drawing her lifeless bulk toward her ultimate destruction in
the embrace of its crushing pressure. There was no evident physical damage to
the exterior hull, and so it was suggested that the ship had lost power and her
occupants had abandoned her. It would have had to have been with assistance, as
both of her shuttles were both still nestled into their docking platforms
against her massive underbelly.
After a bit of calculating and a frightful amount of gut
instinct, Imrhien had managed to dock Tsunami with the derelict, and with much
groaning protest from both ships, as well as her three passengers, stabilized
the nauseating spin of the larger craft. She remained on the bridge to monitor
the conditions of both ships, as well as keep an eye on their surroundings.
Just in case. Tray, Mikie, and Davion had moved down to the cargo hold to suit
up in EVA gear as soon as their pilot’s eyeball-jarring maneuvers had ceased.
So far, things were going better than they could have hoped.
As expected, they had to manually work the airlock doors of
the dead craft open. Once inside, no one was surprised to find the life support
and artificial gravity control systems offline. They scouted the cargo hold,
finding a veritable wealth of crates, thankfully secured and seemingly
undamaged. The freight was all stacked neatly, tied down, and obviously
organized. Imrhien listened over the com channel as they scanned the cargo
manifest and, despite the pervasive feeling of dread, settled in for a boring
few hours nailed to the consoles. It wasn’t until they moved further into the
ship in order to seek out some clue about what happened and how to restore
power that it became quite evident something was very wrong. In the darkness,
broken up only by the twinkling of console lights and screens, she heard the change
in their breathing. Now they were gasping, breathing rapidly, raggedly, with a
few tinny curses and quiet exclamations.
“Uh, y’all okay in there?”
Mikie was the one who responded. “Deadpan, keep an eye out
for trouble. Everyone on this boat’s dead, and it wasn’t from natural causes.”
That feeling of dread that had taken hold increased tenfold, just based on the
fact that Mikie had used her old pilot callsign.
On the derelict, none of the three of them could really have
envisioned a more gruesome scene. They had come out of the cargo bay and into a
recreational room. Bodies littered the space, no doubt disturbed from where
they’d fallen as their artificial gravity had been cut off. Some were riddled
with bullet holes. Others had been stabbed. One woman had her throat slit open.
Blood was everywhere; smeared, pooled, even droplets hanging in space. The only
sounds were from their own, ragged breathing.
What had done this? Or who, was more likely. The obvious
answer was Reavers, who came and killed and left. But Reavers didn’t use guns.
Pirates would have taken the cargo and anything else of value, yet the hold was
brimming with unmolested goods. The pirate activity on the rim had definitely
increased at an alarming rate in recent months, but this didn’t fit the pattern
at all. Was it some kind of hit? The unanswered questions loomed ominously over
them.
As captain, it was Tray’s call, and he made it. “We get the
power back on to run interior lights and artificial gravity so we can work
faster, we get the cargo, and we get the hell out of here. There’s nothing we
can do to help these people right now, but we got hired on for this job, so we
have to do what we came here for. Dav, you come with me to track down the
engine room. Mikie, you double back and get Tsunami’s the cargo bay sealed off
so we can open up the airlocks and pass freely between ships. It’d be nice to
work without these suits on, but I don’t relish the idea of finding out what
atmo might smell like in here.” Nobody argued.
After sealing off the cargo hold to maintain the integrity
of the atmosphere throughout the rest of the Firefly and opening a clear path
between the two airlocks, Mikie was able to utilize some of Tsunami’s
artificial gravity to begin maneuvering two pallet jacks into place. Once Tray
and Davion returned with reports of more of the same carnage throughout the
ship, followed by the evidence of the derelict’s power kicking back to life,
the fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling of the bay flickering on, they were
able to begin working. Unlashing each pallet of freight, they moved quickly to
work out a system, loading it on a hauler and carting it back to their ship
with a speed borne of stark fear and hopeful desperation.
Meanwhile, having been fully apprised of the situation, Imrhien
moved around the bridge, scanning the dark, as well as familiarizing herself
with their location. The gas giant was the closest planetary body, looming
somewhere beyond the bridge’s viewport, but definitely within visual range.
They were far enough out in rim territory that there were no known settlements
even remotely proximate to their position. It was enough to give her a small
measure of reassurance that it was unlikely anyone might happen across their
path, at least not accidentally.
Still… This was an untouched derelict, its existence,
condition, and position were known, at least in parts of the shady underground.
How long would it be before some authority came around looking for this
freighter, with her tens of thousands of credits worth of cargo, which had
never made it to her destination? How long had she been out here? How long had
her crew been corpses? Who was missing this shipment of supplies? Do we have a solid alibi if we get caught
pulling salvage?
And somewhere, there were the more troubling questions. What
had these people, these cold, dead, slaughtered people had to endure? Why were
they dead? Did they deserve this? Shouldn’t we take the time to give them a
proper burial? But that last question was easily answered: No. When they got
back, they could alert someone, get the word down the wire to make sure they
were laid to rest properly, but it was too risky to do it here and now, lest
they be discovered and blamed for all the murders.
Long, tense minutes ticked by uneventfully, slowly mounting
into anxious hours. Imrhien longed to be down there lending a hand, at least to
fill that long stretch of silence with physical labor as opposed to sitting
back and waiting. The others probably wouldn’t have minded the break. She knew,
though, that if something did happen, she needed to be here on the bridge so
that she would have time to react intelligently to a new situation, as opposed
to scrambling wildly. Still, the uneventful passage of time as they hauled more
and more of the cargo on board gave them all a steadily increasing sense of
relief.
As if on cue, when they were three quarters of the way
finished and their guard had almost entirely dropped, a blip popped up on
Tsunami’s sensor screens, triggering a soft alarm. Imrhien cursed loudly,
scanning her consoles for any and all information on the incoming vessel, size,
type, and their direction of travel, even as she voiced into her com, “We’re
‘bout to have company. Whoever’s comin’s makin’ a beeline for us, and they
ain’t doin’ it slow.”
On the derelict, Tray began shouting orders. “Mikie, Dav,
get back to the ship now. We’re leaving.” Everything was dropped, the remaining
quarter of the cargo abandoned, and equipment rushed back to Tsunami’s cargo
bay. As soon as everyone and everything was accounted for, Tray palmed the com
panel just inside the cargo bay from the airlock, calling up to the bridge, “We’re
back, Imrhien. Get us the hell out of here.”
Once she had the all clear, Imrhien sealed off the airlocks
and blew the docking seal, using attitude thrusters to clear the derelict enough
to swing the Firefly around. She knew any ship that could come up on them that
quickly was likely significantly more advanced and would not only be able to
detect that they’d been there, but also easily be able to track and apprehend
them.
Proper planning does, as it turns out, prevent piss poor
performance, as well as awkward and uncomfortable situations, such as trying to
explain to some authority force why you were docked with a derelict craft full
of dead bodies and expensive cargo. By the time she was positioned to move,
Tray, Mikie, and Davion were on the bridge, watching tensely through the
viewport. Hitting a few buttons and flipping one switch, Imrhien sent her plan
into action, casting off one very small and hopefully undetectable item before
proverbially putting the petal to the metal and hauling off at full burn toward
the distant gas giant. Data poured down her screens, readings from the planet
before her, as well as regarding the approaching ship. Halfway to her intended
destination, she hit another series of switches, which resulted in a loud
metallic clanking for a few seconds. Tray quickly scanned the various displays
and gauges. He thought he knew every squeak, rattle and groan his ship was
capable of making, but this one was new. While alarming, he kept his concern to
himself; he knew that Imrhien was in ‘the zone,’ as it were, and he was not
going to do anything to break her concentration.
Once she’d found what she was looking for on the planet, the
furthest magnetic pole from the derelict site, and had adjusted trajectory,
Imrhien killed power to Tsunami, keeping only life support systems online as
she guided the firefly toward the blind spot with the intent that they would
leave less of a heat or particle signature for their pursuers to chase. Also,
just in case her first plan didn’t work, not leaving a trail straight to their
hiding spot could give her a few moments to figure something else out. Or run.
--
The Federation vessel, USS Heinlen, had slowed on their approach to
the derelict. The order to go investigate a report of a ship stranded at these
coordinates had, so far, been legitimate. The captain was worried, given that
there had been another ship docked to the craft in question, but it had fled
upon the Federation ship’s arrival. It meant that this other ship was probably
up to no good. If there were crew and passengers on the stranded vessel, they
might be in need of medical attention.
The Starfleet captain ordered a full scan of the damaged
freighter. The fact that his crew reported back that there were no life signs
onboard was terribly worrisome. It made the decision to leave the derelict to
pursue the fleeing ship much easier. Based on their scans, the vessel was
somewhat substandard technology for the human civilizations in nearby systems,
a firefly transport. It was obvious that the ship was heading for the gas giant
to hide, probably in one of the magnetic fields. Those ships lacked any kind of
FTL capability, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to apprehend it. Ordering his
own ship to follow their course for intercept, he settled back into his chair,
wondering what exactly they were going to find. His gut told him nothing good.
A series of small explosions shuddered against the hull as
the net of photon flash-bang grenades Imrhien had left behind annihilated. It
wasn’t enough to do any damage, or even give them any turbulence – they made a
loud boom and a blinding light – but it had triggered an alarm. The captain
looked around, the fact that all of the sensors were down took a moment to sink
in.
--
“You weaponized my ship without telling me?” Captain Tray
Porthos exclaimed. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle his pilot
or kiss her, but decided that either course of action would be extraordinarily
dangerous.
Imrhien simply smiled, shrugging. “Like hell I was gonna go
flyin’ ‘round the ‘verse in a defenseless boat. Anyhow, ain’t like I broke
their ship or nothin’, prol’ly didn’t even scratch her. Flash-bangs just play
merry hell with their sensors. They’ll be blind for a bit while we hide in the
magnetic field o’ the pole o’ this handy planet here.” Mikie was laughing,
already having figured out what Imrhien’s plan was. Davion looked a bit pale,
but chuckled with reassurance from Mikie’s obvious mirth.
Tray shook his head slowly. “Right, because they’ll never
think to look for us behind the gorram planet, let alone hiding in its magnetic
field!”
Rolling her eyes, but still kept most of her attention on
her instruments, watching. “Would you relax, Cap’n? They ain’t comin’ over
here. They’ll haul off here in a few minutes, ‘n we can get the hell outta
dodge.”
“How in the nine hells do you know that?” her captain
queried, his calm demeanor starkly contrasting with his question.
--
The captain of the USS Heinlen was experiencing a moment of
anger, as well as a sardonic sort of sympathy for their quarry while he paced
the bridge, waiting for their sensors to come back online. If that was the best
they could do to throw a Federation ship off their trail… Especially if they
thought it had any chance of working…
Finally, he heard, “Captain, the sensors are clearing, but
I’m picking up a distress signal from a ship approximately a half of a light
year from our location…”
Sighing, he ordered his ship to make all haste to assist the
distressed ship. Despite being just about positive this was a decoy to draw
them away, there were regulations, and he had to follow them. A ship in trouble
trumped chasing down a ship of potential pirates. He would just have to track
them down later using their scan logs.
--
“That’ll be a story to tell the grandkids: How we narrowly
outfoxed a Starfleet ship using only flash-bang grenades and a crybaby.” Davion
was still chuckling once they were well out of hot water and safely camouflaged
in regular shipping lanes. All of them were still trying to shake off the
tension.
With her course set, Imrhien had turned navigational
controls over to autopilot in order to join the others in the cargo bay. The
four of them stood around the crate that Tray had found and dug out. They had
agreed that they definitely needed to find out more about what was going on
here, and the best place to start was inside the container that Xue had sent
them after in the first place.
“We need to know what it is,” Tray began, “But there’s a
good chance somebody already tried to frame us for killing all those folks. How
can we be sure this thing isn’t wired with enough explosives to blow us back to
Earth That Was set to go off as soon as we crack the lid on it? Maybe the
crate’s insurance that we’re outta the way, one way or another.”
“Less we gotta worry ‘bout if we do explode.” Imrhien lifted
up a crowbar and smacked it against the plywood shell. “But I don’t reckon
that’s gonna blow.” She glanced over at Mikie, who was also brandishing a
crowbar, and arched an eyebrow. “What’cha think ‘bout this?”
Mikie answered by ramming the blade of the crowbar under the
wooden lid. “I think Xue wouldn’t betray me. I also think if he wanted to kill
or torture us, he wouldn’t send us out and have the authorities do it; he’d
want to do it himself. And given who’s in this ship right now, framing us and
turning us over to the authorities would be an incredibly stupid move on his
part. Xue ain’t stupid, so this ain’t a bomb.” Imrhien had also jammed her
crowbar under the lid, and together, they pried it open enough for Tray and
Davion to strongarm it the rest of the way off.
A container lay nested within, a large metal tube that
looked frighteningly like a missile, but without any kind of propulsion system
attached. A line of clear material ran across the top, the inner sides of each
pane lightly frosted around the edges. The four of them leaned in to
investigate further. Inside the metal container were two bodies. Both appeared
to be alive, sleeping, maybe frozen, but definitely in some kind of stasis.
“Oh Jesus,” Imrhien said, arching back from the container,
her face pale.
“What the hell, Xue’s buying bodies now?” Davion lowered
himself to get a closer view.
“Like he’s never done that before,” Mikie snorted. “Man
ain’t got the morals of a hungry tomcat.”
“So, we’re trafficking humans? That’s what this is about?”
Tray asked.
Imrhien folded her arms across her chest and stepped back up
to the crate. “I’m pretty sure this ain’t a slave trade thing, y’all. It’s way
worse.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Tray furrowed his brow at
her.
“’Cause that,” Imrhien said quietly as she pointed at one of
the bodies, “is Jo Massenberg.”
(To be continued in SL roleplay...)
