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I wrote this story as a chapter in Faora meridian's Chronicles of Sol series, so I fully reccoment you read his stories before you read mine. they can be found at: http://yiffstar.com/index.php?pid=4415 And now, here is Smuggler's Run. Sol climbed out of her fighter, pausing a moment as she stepped onto the deck, leaning her back against the fuselage. "That was cutting things a bit too fine," she said, letting out a breath. Carla, her friend and wingmate walked over and patted Sol's shoulder. "It's alright, we made it. I talked to Ivar and he says we're well underway. Unless those Avanguard idiots managed to jump right after us, and from the shape we left them in, I don't think that's too likely." Sol nodded and stood back up straight. She could hear the Dark Star making a dull hum as it cruised through hyperspace, hopefully carrying them away from any further Avanguard encounters. "Come on, let's go make sure Ivar knows we're alright." She said, motioning at the lifts. As Sol and Carla reached the bridge, Ivar nodded to both of them. "Good to see the two of you still in one piece," he said calmly, absently examining a readout. "Good to still be that way," said Carla. "I trust our passenger is aboard and taken care of?" Ivar nodded. "Ms. Westar is safely on board and has been assigned quarters on deck 4." He lowered his voice. "We swept her for listening and tracking devices, just to make sure. She came up clean," the dragon added. Sol knew that, while Cherise was likely going to be a valuable ally, it was also possible this was all a trick to get an Avanguard agent on board the Dark Star. She was sure Cherise would've objected to being scanned, so Ivar had apparently done it discretely. "Good. With any luck she'll be the genuine article and we'll have added another piece to our side of the board." She nodded to the readout. "Something interesting?" Ivar chewed his lip. "I don't know. It's a scan log from just before we pulled out." He tapped a line of data with a talon. "According to this, those two destroyers were attempting to get a fix on our exit vector." Sol took a deep breath. "Were they successful?" "I'm not sure. There's no confirmation signal, but..." he scrolled down and tapped another line. "...there were a few transmitted messages, outbound when we jumped out. It's possible they're scrambling to go after us, but it's also possible that was a transmission to one of the other vessels in the area, or down to the planet. We didn't get enough of it to decrypt it." Sol nodded. "Keep me apprised, and when we reach the end of the jump, do a scan of the area to make sure we aren't being followed. If we detect anything, we randomize our vector again and scram." Ivar nodded. "Got it. Bombardier made it out just before the Avanguard showed up. Hopefully we'll be in the clear and we'll be on time for our rendezvous with her." He looked her over. "I can handle things for now. Go get cleaned up, we've all had a rough day. I'll let you know if anything changes." Sol glanced between him and Carla. "Alright. A few hours. How long until we reach our exit point?" "About 4 hours, give or take." "If I haven't heard anything in 2 hours, I'm coming back up here." "I'm surprised you're waiting that long," snorted Carla. Sol retired to her quarters, a long shower after being cramped in a cockpit felt very good, and being able to put on fresh clothes only made it better. There was a knock at her door just as she was pulling on her shirt. "It's open," she called, deciding against this particular shirt and tossing it aside as she searched for another one. The door opened and a blue-silver furred wolf stepped in. "Something I can help you with, Jaime?" she asked, turning towards him, a shirt clutched in her grip. Jaime just half smiled at her and rolled his eyes. "You know, you could've told me you were dressing. I would've waited," he said dryly. Sol just smiled cutely, leaning over and showing off just a bit of her cleavage. "You've known me long enough to know I don't care how you see me." She smiled. "What if Ivar had been at the door and not me?" "Then Ivar would've seen me like this. It's not like most of the people around here haven't seen me wearing less than this. Remember the briefings?" "Only too well." "I assume you have a reason for coming down here, aside from sneaking peeks?" She said, pulling a shirt over her head. Jaime nodded. "Our guest is in the galley, I thought you might like to formally welcome her to our little operation." Sol smiled and poked his nose. "Playing political advisor to me now are we?" she asked cutely. "Only suggesting you be welcoming. She's risked a lot." "You don't have to tell me that. Besides, I think it's a wonderful idea." She said. "Lead the way." Jaime opened the door, walking along with Sol through the corridors of the Dark Star to the centrally located galley. Other crewers were a fairly rare sight, they didn't have nearly enough personnel to operate the vessel at full capacity, and as a result many systems had been set on automatic. A short walk later, Sol pushed the door open and stepped into the galley. It wasn't a meal time ad the room would've been empty except for the female otter sitting at a corner table, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. Jaime nudged her forward and Sol walked across the galley, taking a seat across the table from Cherise. The otter looked up. "So, you would be the one they call the leader of this outfit." She said, a weak smile on her muzzle. "I just want to thank you for pulling me out of there." Sol smiled. "We're always more than happy to gain more friends, especially some with such advanced technical knowledge as you. Welcome to the other side of the fence, Ms. Westar." Cherise bowed her head. "Please, just Cherise." "Alright then, Cherise." Sol watched the otter for a few more moments, noting the distant look in her eye. "Adjusting?" She asked, her voice soft. Cherise was quiet a moment. "Just... recollecting... faces, friends, times gone past... and how things will never be the same again." She looked distantly out one of the viewports. "I know I only did what I did because I had to, but... well, some of the people on the base weren't just Avanguard, some of them were my friends." She paused, remembering Xavier. "I feel like I betrayed some of them." Sol was silent a moment. "You did what you had to. Your friends would understand that." Cherise nodded slowly. "That doesn't make it any easier." "It shouldn't." Sol's eyes flicked briefly to Jaime, who was standing nonchalantly close by, trying not to appear to be eavesdropping. Cherise looked back up from the table. "But... it's the past I suppose... I guess I need to work for the future... don't think about what's gone on before, huh?" Sol bit her lip. "Not quite so fast. Remember the past. Remember, and learn from it, and use it as a reminder of why you did this," she said, reaching out and giving the otter's paw a friendly squeeze. She looked down at the coffee mug. "Don't like the coffee here either?" she said lightly. "No its fine... just wasn't thirsty." Sol laughed. "Then you obviously haven't had any of it, because the coffee on this tub tastes like engine coolant." "About the same viscosity too," commented Jaime mildly. Both Sol and Cherise chuckled. "I'm sure you'll fit in just fine," said Sol reassuringly. "We just need to..." She trailed off as the Dark Star gave a slight lurch and the blankness outside the viewport changed to a swirling green. In a flash Sol was up and at the wall comm. panel. "Ivar, status now," she said, her voice hard but with an underlying tone of nervousness. "We've been pulled out of hyperspace, seems to be a Negator, but I'm detecting no other ships in the area. We're still triangulating our position; I'd recommend getting to the hangars, quickly." Sol didn't need to be told twice. "Jaime, with me. Fast, we may have trouble." The wolf nodded and made for the door. Sol glanced to Cherise. "Sorry our talk was interrupted, we'll finish later," she said with a little smile, before heading out the door. The reason no other ships showed up on scanners seemed to stem from two causes. One, there didn't seem to be any ships around, and two, they'd been yanked out of hyperspace in the middle of a thick emerald nebula which was causing interference on everything from communications to sensors, not to mention making it hard to pick out anything visually in the swirling green gases. The Dark Star had launched every fighter it had, and currently they were doing reconnoitering work in pairs in close proximity to the frigate. Sol looked out, seeing Carla's fighter riding ahead and slightly above her own. "This is insane," said the vixen, her comm channel thick with static. "We've checked all around us, there's no way a Negator has this kind of range. Is it possible there was a malfunction with the jump drive?" Sol was tempted to tell her wingmate to cut the chatter, but it wasn't technically a combat situation; there were no enemy ships apparent. "I'm not sure, Two. It's definitely not just a malfunction. If there's anyone out here, they've dug themselves a nice deep hole." She heard Carla snort. "Not that it would be that hard in this pea soup. I can't see a damn thing. Any idea where the hell we are?" "Ivar said we're somewhere in the Falker Nebula, apparently one of the thicker parts-" "I hadn't noticed," cut in Carla dryly. "In any case, this is going to be tricky getting out, we need to triangulate our position so we can jump out, and this fog is making it almost impossible to get a visual lock on anything. It might take a bit more time until we can get out of here. Ivar said they were detecting an area of relative clear up ahead, we're going to scout it and see what we pick up." "Oh goody. We get to be the vanguard." Sol rolled her eyes as they moved through the fog, occasionally flicking her eyes at the scanner, which was clouded with static as well, showing only a blip representing Carla and a few weaker ones marking the rest of their ships. Sol squinted, the fog seemed to be clearing... And then there it was, an open area, a dome amidst the swirling nebula, wide and clear. Only it was occupied. "Shit!" exclaimed Carla as the threat board lit up. Sol's blood went cold; the scanners were picking up multiple groups of fighters closing on them. The scanners couldn't get a fix on anything else, but she could see visually a couple larger vessels, two cruisers and what had to be the Negator that had gotten them into this mess. "Cut the chatter Two, fall back, we have to warn the others!" she growled, flipping her Kaiser around for a loop. She quickly changed frequencies. "Ivar! We need to get out of here, now! We have cruisers and multiple fighter groups inbound!" The reply came back thick with interference. "...you...crazy? We... less than... percent navigational... going to take time!" Sol growled. "Ivar, if we hang around, we're dead. Blind jump us, go evasive, try to lose them in the nebula, anything!" "Incoming!" broke in Carla. Sol twisted her head to see Avanguard fighters, in twos and threes closing in on them, and soon enough, closing in on the Dark Star. The two cruisers were lumbering along behind, clearly intent on not being left out. Sol cursed and fed more power into the engines. The other friendly fighters were coming back around to face the inevitable onslaught, and the frigate was beginning a slow roll to port. Ivar was apparently going to try and lose them in the nebula, but with fighters on their tail, it would be next to impossible. "All wings, stand by to engage. Hit the fighters, leave the cruisers alone. We just need to fight off enough of them for the Dark Star to get clear." Sol said, addressing the other fighters. "Stick with your wingmates and watch your six. Engage." The allied fighters jetted forward, but Sol couldn't help but think it might be coming to an end here, the enemy strike craft outnumbered them more than two to one. A new signal cut through on open band. "Attention, renegade frigate Dark Star. This is Captain Arrel of the Avanguard cruiser Ironhand," said a crisp female voice. "You are ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded. You are under arrest for treason and piracy. You have nowhere to fall back to and you are outmaneuvered and outgunned, and resistance will only waste time. You have ten seconds to comply." Sol casually flicked her frequency to open band. "Well Captain Arrel, I must congratulate you on your vigilance, but I'm afraid I must decline your request, and pass along the orders to go to hell," Sol said curtly before flicking off the comm. She smiled, noting several communicated agreements from other pilots. "Two, on me, we're going to run right up the middle and try to draw their fire so the others can broadside them." "Right with you, Lead." Sol rammed the throttles forward and charged the approaching line of Avanguard fighters. The line opened up but the Kaiser ducked and dodged around frantic enemy fire. Sol brought up the missile targeting program and dropped her crosshairs over a trio of fighters who were riding closer together than they should've been. The missile streaked out and imploded the lead fighter, and caught it's right wingman in the blaze. The third fighter, now alone, quickly moved to slip into another formation. Sol smiled and broke left, Carla right with her. She switched to lasers and targeted another fighter and opened up, Carla following up on a different target only a few seconds later. The other fighters screamed into the fray, and Sol was satisfied to see a number of Avanguard fighters in the front of the approaching wave reduced to drifting scrap. The elation didn't last long, as the battle quickly turned into a fierce melee, and the superior numbers on the Avanguard side began to take effect. Sol quickly found that two assault fighters had dropped behind her and were doing their best to end her life. Not too keen on that course of action, she dove left, into a steep spiral. Carla peeled off as the sharp turn drew the attention of both fighters, and managed to clip one of them before they realized they'd been duped. Sol almost casually blasted the other one away as she came out of a loop. "Nice shooting, Two," she commented. "Thank you Lead, nice flying." Carla fell back along behind Sol and they chose their next targets. As they dueled with a couple of light interceptors, Sol contacted Ivar. "Ivar, they're starting to swarm us, we can't stall them much longer." She said through clenched teeth. As if to illustrate her point, shots came from seemingly nowhere, a single fighter had slipped past Sol's watchful eye and sprayed her shields with laser fire. It wasn't a serious hit, but it went to show that there were too many of them to keep track of. "We're working as fast as we can, but the navigation system doesn't have any definitive locks, we'd be jumping blind, and that's not a good way to promote longevity," said Ivar hurriedly. "Look, I'll take freak chance over no chance Ivar, get the damn Jump drive online and start-" "Lead, this is Seven," came Jaime's familiar voice, "We've got a problem. I've got two missile boats on attack vectors of the Dark Star, requesting backup to help bring them down." Sol growled. "Seven, we're a bit busy, can you and your wingman handle it?" "Negative, my wingman is gone, I'm riding solo." Sol hissed between her teeth, those missile boats could inflict heavy damage on capital ships if they weren't dealt with quickly. "Acknowledged Seven, Two and I are on our way. Two, break off and lock onto Seven's signal. We've got Missile Boats to take care of." Carla broke away from the fighter she'd been pursuing, as her ship pivoted, Sol noticed black scouring on the hull of her ship. "Two, damage report." Sol said briskly. "I'll be fine One, just grazed me." "Watch yourself, Two." Sol spotted Jaime moving through the fray, the interceptor was showing considerable damage, one engine trailing fire and one fin sheared off. "Seven, fall back to the Dark Star, we'll handle this. One more hit and you're going to be chewing vapor." "Negative Lead, if I'm going to go, I'd rather go down fighting than sitting in a hangar." "Jaime, that's an order." "Sorry Lead, bad connection, can't read you." The damaged interceptor shot ahead. Sol could see the two Missile Boats, slower and bulkier craft, larger than a fighter, but each packing dual launchers equipped with heavy anti-ship rockets. As the three fighters closed, one Missile Boat broke left, trying to draw their fire, the single anti-air turret on the dorsal ridge of the craft opening up on them. Carla rolled left, avoiding the beams, and returned fire, shredding one of the launchers. The craft kept going, intent on keeping their attention until its partner could complete its run. The first Missile Boat pushed its engines, shooting past them with speed Sol didn't think it would've been capable of, so she quickly looped around to follow it. She noted with approval that both Carla and Jaime were harassing the other damaged craft, driving it away from firing range, until it finally broke apart. She turned back to her prey, which was rapidly closing to firing range with the frigate. Grasping the control stick hard, she gritted her teeth and fired. Whoever was driving this Missile Boat was good, no doubts there, but the bulkiness and added mass of the craft made it difficult to maneuver, and its shields weren't going to last forever. Finally, one burst of laser fire tore through the aft end of the craft, igniting one of the magazines and blowing it apart in a spectacular fireball. Unfortunately, the blast concealed the flying debris until it was too late to avoid it. Letting out a surprised curse, Sol jerked hard to the left as a twisted piece of wreckage hurtled past. She almost made it, but one jagged edge of wreckage ground through the portside wing, setting off sparks and about a half dozen alarms in the cockpit. "Lead to Two, target eliminated, but I've taken damage!" she called out. "Lost secondary maneuvering, shields, and weapons. I'm no good out here," she added, with disappointment in her voice. However, her scanners showed several enemy fighters converging on her, obviously intent on taking advantage of her condition. "Lead to any available fighter, I could use some help here, now!" She called as the fighters became visible through the fog. "One, this is Star, we're picking up a new group of signals closing on your position, no IDs, or transponder codes." Sol rolled her eyes. "Now is really not a good time for sensor anomalies, Star!" she growled, trying to at least get power back into her maneuvering jets. "Well, I thought you might..." The rest of Ivar's words were lost as two of the fighters closing on Sol abruptly blew up. "Nice shooting, whoever that was!" she crowed, "I owe you one!" The fact that no one answered made her nervous, but the next thing she saw changed that anxiety to confusion. Three ships passed over at high speed, the first looked like a large fighter with large vertical fins and a blazing blue engine on the back. It had to have been as big as one of the Missile Boats, but it was maneuvering like a fighter, and using quad mounted lasers, it blew apart another of the approaching fighters before pivoting on its axis and jetting away. The next ship roared over, a light freighter of some kind, with dorsal and ventral turrets blazing away at anything that came close. Finally came an orca shaped assault craft, racing by, as if trying to catch up with its friends. Sol's mouth dropped open. "Who the hell are these guys?" she said. "I don't know, but they would seem to be on our side, Lead," said Carla. A new voice broke in. "...repeat, Dark Star, if you want a way out, we are transmitting coordinates, suggest you follow. We'll hold them off as long as we can." Ivar's voice responded. "Unidentified ship, how do we know we can trust you? Besides, we have two EV pilots out there and a disabled fighter. We need to retrieve them." "Dark Star, you have to get out of here, it's either trust us of stay here with your Avanguard friends. It's up to you. We'll take care of your pilots, just GO!" Sol took a deep breath. "Star, do you have the coordinates?" "Complete set." "Then we pray this isn't another trap. Recall all fighters; jump as soon as they're aboard. Remember, the enemy of my enemy is my friend." "Lead, this is Two, I read two more unidentified contacts closing on assault vectors with the Avanguard vessels, one appears to be..." There was a pause from Carla. "...ummm, one appears to be a Mark III StarTruck." "They're taking a utility craft on a combat run??" Sol exclaimed. She could see the lumbering craft now, consisting of two central drive engines and offset pilot and cargo compartments, StarTrucks were hardly combat worthy. "Maybe going with these guys is a bad idea; they don't seem to have a whole lot of brains..." As soon as the words were out of Sol's mouth, she abruptly had to eat them. The StarTruck swung its side towards the Avanguard fighters and opened up with six formerly concealed laser turrets, causing the fighters who weren't clipped to veer off sharply. Sol had to admit it, the idea of turning a utility ship into an anti-fighter platform wasn't a bad one. "One, this is Star, we're no longer receiving signals from our EVs, and the crippled fighter has been taken in tow. Looks like the freighter picked them up," came Ivar's voice. "Alright. We're coming back in, stand by to jump as soon as we're aboard." Sol put all the power she could manage into the engines, watching as the two cruisers closed to firing range, starting to open up with ranging shots. This was going to get hairy quickly. However, their mysterious rescuers were apparently ready to deal with the heavy artillery, and the smaller vessel that had been riding with the StarTruck shot out, a small Maintenance tug by appearance, but towing a cylindrical cargo module behind it. It built up speed, angling for the space between the cruisers, before cutting the module loose and beating a hasty retreat. The last thing Sol saw before she entered the hangar was the module exploding and releasing a series of bright, sequential flashes. Firecracker mines...she thought. To cover our exit vector from their scanners... Shaking her head, Sol slapped the comm. "Ivar, we're all aboard. Get us out of here." She got no response, but there was a subtle shift through the deck as the Jump Drive activated. The jump had been going for almost half an hour, and Sol was getting antsy. While they could abort at any time, they would have no idea where they were, and they'd be pinned in place for a few moments while the navigation computer retriangulated their position. Not to mention the three pilots who were possibly in hostile internment. Sol chewed a clawtip, standing beside Ivar. "How far have we gone?" She asked. He calmly tapped a control board. "Roughly 2.5 light years, give or take. Based on the coordinates our rescuers sent, we should be dropping out in the middle of nowhere."The perfect place to stage an ambush... thought Sol. "How long to reversion?" "Two more minutes. Assuming they jumped out behind us, they won't be more than a couple minutes behind." "Well, be ready. If we're dropping right into a battleship's gunsights, I want to be ready for it." The counter ticked down the seconds, and Sol was deep in thought when the helmsman spoke. "Dropping out of hyperspace," he said, though there was a tinge of nervousness in the ermine's voice. Sol grasped the rail as the stars returned to normal. She held her breath for a few moments, expecting to feel weapon impacts. But nothing happened. She sighed out. "Deep scan, tell me where we are." One officer tapped a few keys. "One planet in the vicinity. Registers as a Type IV gas giant, and a significant ring system around it." "Any other vessels?" asked Ivar. "No sir. No power signatures, no comm chatter." Sol could see the planet now. It was huge, filling most of the bridge viewport, a deep indigo with streaks of darker blue in the clouds, surrounded by a set of breathtaking rings. "Any moons?" asked Ivar, "They brought us here for a reason; I suspect they have a base around here somewhere." "If its here, its well hidden. According to the charts, there isn't even supposed to be a star system here, scanning for moons... hang on..." The officer abruptly broke off, checking the display. "Contacts! Bearing dead aft..." he let out a breath. "It's our friends, all five of them. We're being hailed." Ivar nodded. "Put it on." The speaker clicked on. "Dark Star, you're free to leave now if you wish, but we have a few people who would very much like to meet with you to discuss a matter of mutual benefit. If you're game, follow us." Ivar glanced at Sol, who thought for a few moments, before motioning for the comm to be muted. "Do we have any IDs?" She asked. "Yes, all five ships are broadcasting transponder codes. I read, ah, the Switchblade, the Diamond Duster, the Lucky Renegade, the Diamond Dragon, and the Pipsqueak." The officer paused, offering a weak smile. "Hardly professional sounding names." "And certainly not Avanguard," put in Ivar. Sol paused a moment before gesturing to the comm. "We'll follow you in, unidentified ship." "Got it. Relaying course information." The receiver clicked off. "Course data received... they're leading us into the rings," said the sensor officer. Sol nodded. "Keep pace, but keep the sensors on. If you spot a hidden cruiser or gun emplacement, shout it out. Carla stepped up beside Sol. "Any idea who we're dealing with?" she asked nervously. "A couple theories. Note the names and the manner of ships. Not a military craft in the bunch. Five vessels, some of them utility craft, all tricked out beyond reasoning, and initially, no IDs." She paused. "I think we may have been rescued by smugglers." "Would that be a good thing or a bad thing?" asked Ivar. "It depends. Smugglers are rarely ones to take sides, on anything. As long as they get paid, they typically don't care who they work for." "Maybe that's changed," put in Carla. "Or maybe a group of them has decided to make a bit of extra cash on the side by turning us over to the Avanguard," added Ivar darkly. "Regardless, I think we're going to find out," said Sol. They followed the smaller ships, which had taken up a loose formation around the frigate, their own fighter stowed securely under the tug. The rings began to become apparent, the slim discs resolving into an innumerable amount of rocks and ice, some of them several kilometers across. The sensor officer nodded once. "I have something, looks like power readings, up ahead. Fairly strong too." The other ships were slowing as they entered the rings, likely to avoid being pelted with fist sized chunks of debris. "Wait, contact, port forward..." He looked up, alarmed. "It's an Avanguard freighter." Sol felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Alert! We've been had, everyone to battle stations-" She was cut off by a voice over the comm. "Dark Star, cool your jets. The freighter is one of ours, it's, uh, borrowed." Sol growled. "How can we trust you on that?" "Set your scanners to frequency delta one, and compare to standard readings. The engine signature won't match standard Avanguard." The sensor officer was already working, and nodded back to Sol. "Alright," she growled. "Any more little surprises you want to inform us of?" A different voice replied. "Yeesh you guys are jumpy," it answered in a cocky and almost brash voice. "Shut up, Drayf," interjected someone else. "Oh, you going to make me, Limmner?" "I know where you sleep, Drayf." "Ooooh, I'm scared. Seriously, the day you get enough balls to actually-" "How about both of you put a lid on it?" asked another voice, female. "God, if you two could funnel your egos into your piloting, you could take on every ship in the galaxy." "I already can take on every..." "Shut up, Drayf." The banter kept going for a few more minutes, and Ivar shot Sol a rather disbelieving look. "Well... if they are military, I think I've seen better radio communication from cadets, so maybe we don't have quite as much to worry about..." Sol smiled. "Don't be too hasty to judge. You saw what they did back at the nebula." "Yeah, and I'm seeing the behavior here." One officer motioned ahead. "Look. I think we found our destination." He said, pointing. Sol squinted, trying to see what he was looking at, but as she found it, her mouth dropped open. Up ahead was a group of larger planetoids, bound together by metal framing, a central superstructure in between, a number of hangar bays visible in one of the rocks. One of the planetoids had been bored all the way through, the cylindrical hole lined with metal, two larger vessels currently moored in it. There were several other ships in the area, a pair of aging system patrol craft, apparently on picket duty, cruised around the base. A couple bulk freighters were parked a bit further off. Nestled right up next to the largest asteroid was a long, cylindrical tanker, several tubes connecting to various ports on the surface. Ivar pointed off to one side, indicating two military craft, a small assault gunship, less than a third the size of the Dark Star, and what looked like it had once been an Avanguard cruiser, but so many new additions adorned the hull it was difficult to tell. "Sweet mother of..." said Carla. "...somebody's got their own private army." A different voice broke in over the comm. "Dark Star, this is Ferelian Derricote. I guess you could call me the commander of this little operation." "Some of us like to call you other things," the cocky-sounding pilot interjected. "Can it, Drayf. Ignore him. In any case, my men spoke of a mutually beneficial agreement, and I prefer to speak face to face. I'm transmitting a landing beacon, it's for the main hangar, I'll meet you on the deck." Sol stepped forward. "Mr. Derricote, I trust you won't object to bringing along a security escort?" she asked calmly. There was a pause. "Bring who you wish, but keep in mind, my people don't want to start trouble, so I'll advise you to tell yours the same. We're all on the same side here." "We'll figure that out once I meet you, Derricote. I'll be down shortly, and I'd like to have my rescued people waiting for me on the hangar deck." Sol watched as the comm shut off, and then motioned to Ivar and Jaime. "Both of you, come with me. Carla, take a small flight of our least damaged ships and maintain a patrol around the ship. If this is a ruse, I want to have jets in space already. Come on, let's go see what this Derricote has to say." Sol's Kaiser moved through the atmospheric shield of the larger hangar, built into one side of the asteroid, followed in short order by Jaime and Ivar. The hangar walls were hewn rock, with a metal decking installed below. There were a fair number of ships in the hangar, nothing bigger than the light freighter which had participated in the rescue, which was currently parked near the front of the hangar. Most of them appeared to be modified versions of their original selves, lighter civilian craft now dotted with welded on extrusions, weapons, and engines. Here and there would be an obvious custom craft, well kept and gleaming, contrasting with the older, more worn vessels. A deck hand wearing a cargo-handler's uniform waved the three of them towards the center of the bay, where three figures were standing. Sol gently settled her ship down on the skids and powered down the engines before popping the cockpit canopy, noting with some surprise that a deck hand was already setting the ascent ladder in place. She thanked the tech and ascended, just now getting a good look at the three figures waiting for them. The first, standing off to one side, was a somewhat lanky looking canine, a coyote wearing a black vest and some faded pants. He glanced at Sol with a raised eyebrow, and that cryptic little half smile coyotes were so good at, but he didn't say anything, simply remaining still with his arms folded across his chest. The second was a ringtail, tall, trim and athletic looking. He wore a pilot's flight suit, which still displayed a number of mission patches from the Avanguard military, though most of them were faded. A departure from the newer flight gear, he wore some aviator goggles, now slung lower, around his neck, and a gray scarf. His expression was one of bluster, which every flyboy who was too full of himself seemed to carry, but this guy had it in spades. The third person stepped forward, offering his hand. He was another canine, a malamute, his gray and white fur matted here and there with age, scars, and sweat. He was well muscled, and stood about the same height as Sol. He wore the outfit of a cargo handler, a wide bandoleer carrying weapons and tools strapped across his chest. "Ah, at least we meet, the great Sol." He said, his voice deep, but carrying an unseen power behind it. "I am Derricote, I've had my eye on you and your group's exploits for some time now." Sol cautiously reached out and shook Derricote's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Nice to know we're so famous. A pleasure to meet you... commander?" she said, taking a guess, as he displayed no rank insignia or marking. Derricote smiled toothily. "No need for such formalities around here, carrying rank isn't something we do. Just call me Derricote." Sol raised an eyebrow. "Exactly what you do is one of my questions, but that can wait." She motioned to Ivar and Jaime, who had taken flanking positions beside her. "This is Ivar, one of my lieutenants, and Jaime, our Intelligence specialist." Derricote nodded to each of them, before introducing his own compatriots. "This," he motioned at the ringtail. "...is one of my pilots, Selman Drayf. You may have heard him out there polluting the airwaves every time he opened his mouth." Drayf smiled. "Funny Derricote. Let's just not forget who leads in kills around here." He crossed his arms and nodded at Sol. "You can thank me later for saving your tails out there." Derricote rolled his eyes and continued, pointing to the coyote. "This is one of our on again off again supporters, Draylen Tarx. He has your pilots aboard his ship, and will release them at your request. One of them sustained minor injuries, a dislocated joint on ejection, and is being treated. He should be fine in a couple of hours." Draylen nodded once. "Not the most enthusiastic passengers I've had, but once they realized we were going the same way you were, they cooled down a bit," he said calmly, pausing a moment to pick at his teeth. Sol nodded, turning her eyes away from the obnoxious pilot and onto Draylen. "I'd like to see them." "Easily arranged. We did our best to explain to them that they were guests, not prisoners, but you seem to instill an inherent suspicion in some people." "Being careful keeps people alive. We don't always know who we can trust," said Ivar briskly. "Whatever floats your boat." Draylen waved over towards the freighter, and Sol's two errant pilots came striding down the boarding ramp, one of them carrying an arm in a makeshift sling. Two personnel from this as of yet unidentified group followed along behind, no weapons drawn, but no casualness in their stride. Sol nodded at each of them. "You two alright?" "Yes ma'am. These folks haven't so much as asked us our names or drawn a gun to us," said one of them. Sol chewed her lip. "Alright, we'll take you back up to the ship when we return." She turned to Derricote. "So what did you want to discuss?" The malamute held up a finger. "Let's get off the hangar deck, shall we?" he said bluntly, motioning to a small door off the main hangar and starting to walk that way. Sol nodded at Ivar and Jaime, moving along after. Draylen and Drayf, followed along at a comfortable distance. The doorway led to a small pilot's ready room, a large briefing table set down the middle of it. Derricote pulled a small bottle of some unidentified liquid from a low cabinet. "Something to drink?" he asked calmly, pouring out a glass for himself and taking a small sip, as if to indicate that he wasn't trying to poison them. Sol held up a finger and Derricote filled another glass, setting it down next to Sol and taking a seat. Drayf entered and leaned against the back wall, while Draylen picked a seat on the opposite side of the table, leaning back and slouching low in the chair. "I suspect you have a lot of questions, but I think I may be able to answer a few of them," said Derricote. "You could start with exactly who you are," said Jaime. "From what we heard, we were the only anti-Avanguard organization with any kind of significant firepower." Derricote smiled thinly. "Then we've been doing a good job of maintaining a low profile. And you might be surprised, though recently, a few groups have had to duck for shelter. We ourselves could be called the Outcasts, it's basically what we are, but I personally think the Smuggler's Alliance is more fitting. Basically, we're a motley assortment of mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, and traders, who all have one thing in common. We hate the Avanguard." He took another sip of his drink. "Everyone has their own reasons. The smugglers are being ground out if they refuse to bribe their way through, and even if they run legal, they're shot on sight. The traders are being absorbed into Avanguard-backed megacorporations, it's impossible for solo runners to get any work these days. The pirates, well, just shooting stuff is what they do, and there's money to be made." "What about the mercs?" asked Sol. "Last I heard, they'll fight for whoever pays them, and there wouldn't seem to be much money in being a revolutionary." "The mercs continued to think like that until recently. See, with all this political upheaval you seem to be feeding, the Avanguard doesn't like the idea of anyone out there with weapons besides the military, and with so many guns for hire out there, they all represent potential threats. Now, all mercs with anything more than a popgun have to pass an impossible set of regulations, or they're absorbed into the Avanguard. Anyone who resists is labeled a criminal and shot on sight." Derricote folded his hands together and rested them on the table. "A number of groups knuckled under and were placed in special merc wings. Unfortunately, Avanguard commanders don't think too highly of them, and treat them as disposable troops. One of my assistants, Tyra, her wing was drafted, and the next day tossed out on a suicide mission. Most of them broke and ran for it, and more and more mercenaries are getting edgy. The Avanguard isn't trying hard to win friends." Jaime and Ivar traded glances, but only Jaime spoke. "All of us were former Avanguard soldiers, and we never heard anything about this drafting." "No reason you would have. Like I said, it's recent, and even now, they're trying to keep it quiet." Sol nodded and stroked her chin. "Good points Mr. Derricote, but you left out something. I still want to know how your group managed all this." she motioned around the room, indicating the base. "You would seem to be very well equipped." Derricote snorted. "We should be. We have a steady cash flow, and, being as most of our members are familiar with the workings of the black market, getting supplies is no big deal." "So where does your money come from?" Drayf smirked. "From the kindness and generosity of Avanguard commerce. We raid Avanguard freighters and capture supplies and material, mundane stuff, things nobody ever escorts. Last transport we hit was carrying farming equipment. With our contacts, we can find direct buyers for just about everything, so we just avoid the whole open market. Everything is shipped out with private transports driven by our associates, like Mr. Tarx here." Derricote nodded in agreement. "Also, ships we raid, we tend to haul off with us as well. There aren't many people who are willing to buy a pristine Avanguard issue freighter, but chopped down, the parts are worth quite a bit. Plus, some of the vessels are in good enough condition to use for ourselves. You no doubt noticed the Avanguard cruiser moored outside?" Derricote smiled with a bit of schoolboy excitement. "That ship is thirty years old, and was destined to be scrapped. We 'borrowed' it from the wreck yard and made off with it a year ago, and we've been refitting it ever since. As soon as we locate a new sublight drive array, the thing is going to run rings around ships half its age." Ivar spoke up. "They pulled the array when they were getting ready to scrap it?" Derricote shook his head. "No, it still had it's stock engines, and we could use them, but well..." he winked. "...if you're going to rebuild an old lady, give her some zip where it counts. Ask any honorable smuggler, and they'll tell you that upgrading a ship is one of the best pleasures in life. In any case, I'm getting off topic." "You mentioned you stole the hardware as well as the cargo. What do you do with the crews?" Sol asked mildly. "Well, we offer then a chance to join up, and surprisingly a good number hate serving the Avanguard as much as anyone, and defectors make up a good deal of our ranks. Any that don't want in, but are well behaved, we'll drop at the nearest friendly port. The other ones, well, sometimes they don't give us much choice." Derricote winced. "I don't relish killing, but sometimes it's necessary, I'll leave it that." Sol bowed her head in agreement. "I suppose I'm the same way. Aren't you worried about security leaks from the ones you pick up?" "Well, we backcheck everyone we admit before we let them near anything sensitive, and our back alley contacts are notoriously good at digging up dirt on people." Jaime raised a finger. "What about this base? According to our charts, there isn't even a system here." Derricote smirked. "It was a gift, from someone who owed us a favor. Connor Mining Industries established this base awhile back in hoping to extract ores from the planetary rings, but it never even started operating. Connor Industries was muscled out of business by larger companies, mainly because they preferred not to deal with the Avanguard. Just before they closed, the CEO, old Connor himself, approached us and offered this base, no strings attached. Before he'd left his office, he'd deleted all the scouting reports, navigation logs, and overviews of this installation, so as far as anyone else was concerned. The only people who knew about it were the higher ups in the company, who agreed with Connor, and the construction workers who built the place, and even if they decided to sell us out, they no longer have the exact coordinates." Sol was quiet a few moments, tapping a clawtip on the table. "Your organization sounds very well kept, Mr. Derricote," she said calmly. "But I think the real questions are, what do you want, and how do we know we can trust you?" Drayf stirred a little but kept silent as Derricote gathered his words. "What I want is a military alliance. There are many fringe groups out there who hate the Avanguard, but they're splintered and separate, ranging from assault forces like our own, to small, single ship operations. Alone, all we can do is peck at the Avanguard and irritate them. Together, we can wield a sword that can represent a serious change in the balance of power, and we can start hitting larger, more important targets. Your strengths lie in intelligence and precision strikes, while ours is more in knowing how to use the criminal underworld to get what we need. Other groups have other strengths, we need to start getting them together before the Avanguard catches on." He rubbed his hands together. "I don't know how I can prove our honesty to you... as if there was ever an honest smuggler... but I will tell you this. Ask anyone in this base why they hate the Avanguard, and you'll get a refreshingly blunt story. Some of us are just in it for the money, a few want political change, others want revenge." He motioned back at Drayf. "Drayf here was one of your classic Avanguard 'join us or go to prison' cases, even before the anti-merc laws came into effect. He was too good to be allowed to stay free, just as was the case with some of you." Drayf smiled thinly. "I vaped my wing commander after two years, the bastard had been worming his way under my skin all that time, and frying his ass was one of the best moments of my life. Now, I just want to show them how treating me a little better might've been to their advantage. Plus, no Avanguard grunts get famous." Sol paused, choosing not to comment on the pilot. "What about you, Derricote? What's in it for you?" The malamute was quiet. "I want justice," he said simply. "My brothers and I ran a repair dock at Pelthis II, little out of the way business. We did alright, made ends meet. Then one day some Avanguard VIP transport comes in, some Admiral running late for some meeting, has a busted coolant line. We patch it up, no problems. He says he won't pay, that he's important enough not to need to shell out cash to some outer rim grease monkeys, and his status should be payment in itself. We, of course, don't buy it, and demand our money." Derricote scowled. "He shot both my brothers, and me, and left us all for dead. I limped out a few minutes before Avanguard enforcers arrived, claiming that we were operating illegal business practices, which warranted them torching the place. Two, almost three, murders, because some navy brat thought he was too good for us. Call me judgmental, but any government that allows that kind of behavior needs to be changed, so here I am." "You have my condolences," said Sol. She'd heard more than a few stories like Derricote's, lived one even, and despite her hard exterior she still felt sorry for them. "I'd rather have your agreement," said Derricote mildly. "I want us to have the means to see that anything like that never happens again." Sol glanced back and forth between Ivar and Jaime. "We'll need to think about it, and to discuss it with the rest of my organization before we can commit to anything." "Of course. You're free to go at any time, I'll see that you have the means to reach me or someone in my group. If you'd like to, I'm prepared to show you around, perhaps you might like to see some of the fruits of our labors." "I would enjoy that." Derricote stood up, and motioned to the door. "Please, this way." Drayf stretched. "I'm going to head back to the hangar, the Duster's portside manifold is clogging again. Good luck Derricote, maybe showing off the guns will impress the girl." He chuckled, and got only a scowl back from Derricote as he walked past. Draylen remained seated, still picking his teeth, obviously not interested in joining. Jaime tapped Sol on the shoulder. "If I may, I'm going to see our pilots back to the ship, and make sure they're alright." "Go ahead. You know how to reach me," said Sol, as she and Ivar followed Derricote out. Jaime was starting to go, but stopped and glanced at Draylen. "Not going to join them?" he asked mildly. The coyote looked up. "Naw. I've been through this base more than a few times, seeing it all again doesn't intrigue me much." "What did Derricote mean when he said you were an on again off again supporter?" Draylen shrugged. "Means I work for Derricote and his boys, but I'm not an official member of this group. I do little utility things for them, mainly cargo hauling. The whole reason I went on that rescue run was because they were short one of their transports and happened to be hanging around the base at the time. Didn't have anything else to do, so I figured what the hell." He smirked. "Be thankful I did, otherwise some of your pilots might still be floating around out there." Jaime regarded Draylen for a few moments before speaking. "Not much of a joiner are you?" "Nope. I go where the money takes me. Just so happens Derricote pays good cash for my services, so here I am." Jaime shook his head. "So, you admit you're only in it for the money. No motives or scruples at all." Draylen sat up and scowled. "Watch it. Just because I don't take up arms in this fight doesn't mean I don't have morals. I have lines I won't cross, I've lost friends out there, and I think the galaxy is dangerous enough as is. You won't catch me crying if by some stroke of luck you topple the Avanguard but I'm just one of those people who doesn't get in too deep. Besides, it leaves me versatile. Having a freelancer around isn't necessarily too bad, a nice neutral guy who can work safely on both sides of the fence is good for selling off loot of questionable nature, if you get my drift." Jaime shrugged. "I didn't mean to insult you, I was just curious. I admit it's nice to see some honesty in a time full of turmoil." "Hey, with me, you get me, simple as that. Maybe its because I haven't lost anybody close, like Derricote did, but these guys are my friends, so they're people I don't mind sticking my neck out for, at least not as much." "Dangerous universe, but a guy has to survive I suppose." Draylen chuckled. "Now you're thinking like a smuggler." He got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I have some repair work to do, something in the coolant pump is rattling around. Nice to meet you I suppose." Jaime stepped out the door into the hangar, allowing Draylen room to pass. "Likewise. While I don't completely agree with your mentality, it seems like your heart's somewhere close to the right place." "Close enough anyway. Good luck in your fight." The coyote nodded once and headed off towards his ship. Jaime waited a few moments, watching his retreating back, before heading off to see to his pilots. The weasel stood, at brisk attention, her hands clasped behind the small of her back. Her expression was one of rigid military discipline, but there was an underlying sense of fear accompanying it. Admiral Jarek Griff had grown extraordinarily good at reading people over the years, and, even as he had his attention focussed on the report in front of him, he could tell that Captain Arrel was scared clear down to her boots. He finished the last line of the report and set it down on his desk, folding his hands together. "Do you have anything to add to this report, Captain?" he asked coolly. "No sir." Arrel replied, a very slight edge in her voice. Griff tapped two fingers against one another. "It would appear, then, that our quarry has managed to elude us again, at least at present. It also appears that they had help." "Yes, sir." Griff paused, turning his chair to one side, leaning back slightly. "Captain, do you wish to try and justify your actions?" he said casually. "Permission to speak freely sir," said Arrel. "Granted." "I believe my actions speak for myself sir. With the additional reinforcements arriving to assist and orient the insurgents, we lacked the time necessary to complete the entrapment formation, or even make a sizable assault. There was nothing I could've done." Griff nodded. "Then why do you stand before me as if I'm going to court martial you?" "I know how the Avanguard does not tolerate failure, sir." Griff nodded again. He was well familiar with how many capable commanders, after being unable to complete an assignment, were often booted to the lower echelons of the command structure, or for other incidents, worse. He sighed. "Captain. I have reviewed your record thoroughly, and I selected you for this task force for a reason. You are a resource, and I do not make a habit of wasting useful resources." The skunk held up a finger. "I did not expect that Sol would be taken in easily. I frankly would've been surprised if we managed to catch her, but I dispatched your group on short notice, as an educated guess. The failure to apprehend is negligible. Granted, it would've been a pleasant surprise, her prestige is growing, and is acting as an inspiration to others who would wish to take up arms against us. Making an example of her would've proved useful, but we will have another chance." Some of the rigidity in Arrel's expression melted away into surprise. "You mean I am still in command of the Ironhand? I am not being demoted?" Griff smiled thinly. "You are correct on both counts Captain. As I said, I studied your record thoroughly when I made my requests for this task force. You exhibit a fierce loyalty to the Avanguard, but you are capable of independent thought and adjusting your tactics to fit the situation. I favor minds that can think unusually... the reason these insurgents can make their assaults with impunity is because that is the only way they can think, so we must learn their tactics in order to beat them." He pressed a switch on his desk and images of several ships appeared, all of them the mystery ships that had assisted in the battle. "Tell me Captain, what do you notice about these ships, now that you are not absorbed in the heat of battle?" Arrel shifted her glance, studying the images. "These vessels bear no known markings, and used no identification beacons. Appearances are decidedly deceptive, this one..." She pointed to a battered StarTruck, "...had been modified to serve as an anti-fighter platform, to great effect. The others appeared to be either modified from their original frames, and highly customized." "And your conclusions as to their identities?" Arrel took a deep breath. "I suspect a mercenary group of some kind, obviously skilled in the mechanics of their craft, in order to modify them to such effect." Griff nodded. "An easily drawn conclusion. I do not fault you for this analysis, it is perfectly logical, but the solution to the puzzle lies within the parts. The galaxy is a dangerous place, we all know that. There is one society in the galaxy that understands this to great effect, as they must deal with it on a daily basis, and has since learned to make use of the mundane..." he motioned at the StarTruck, "...in their defense. The use of modified utility and transport ships also provides a valuable hint." Arrel was quiet a moment. "Smugglers." Griff smiled. "Very good Captain, very good indeed. You possess an analytical mind. I believe more of the fringe elements have taken up arms, and this presents a rather unique problem. Smugglers have a unique view of the universe, their contacts with the criminal underworld can equip them well, and due to their knowledge of back-door logistics, their movements are more difficult to trace. Some of the combat-oriented ships in the attack force also hint at mercenary thinking, as you suspected earlier. I argued against the forced absorption of mercenary groups, as it would make us less popular in the eyes of such neutral elements, but my recommendations were ignored, and now we deal with the consequences," he said, a bit bitterly. Arrel nodded. "So what is our next move?" she asked, obviously anxious to continue the hunt. Griff nodded. "Patience. The intelligence from your skirmish is still being analyzed for clues. We will not act in haste; once a prey has been fully stalked, the kill can be made." He switched off the monitor. "Based on the preliminary data, I believe we're dealing once again with our friends from the raids at Bel Halla." Arrel hissed between her teeth. Several months ago, a string of material raids along a series of Avanguard supply depots and cargo ships had occurred, and Arrel had been one of the ones trying vainly to catch an enemy as slippery as a bar of soap. Of course, she hadn't known Griff was one of the ones planning the counter-offensive. "I thought they'd gone underground, after that scare we gave them at Bremler Station." "Obviously not. While that trap succeeded in scattering their group, at least temporarily, it failed to meet the goal of wiping them out. Since then, there have been a string of raids to our shipping lines, and some other targets, which could not be attributed to any group, and I now believe this group did not disband, but instead shifted targets in an attempt to evade our direct attention. Until now, it has worked, but they've cropped up again." "If they link up with Sol's group, it could be trouble," offered Arrel. "I agree. Fortunately, it presents us with a unique opportunity to eliminate two groups instead of one, if we can act fast enough." He reactivated his screen, which showed a starmap centered around their present location. "I want you to take your force and establish a rally point in the Tragget system. I will provide a list of systems in the vicinity of your location, send scout ships to each and conduct a thorough search. I plan to have Captains Ramirez and Vashon do the same for different sets of systems. Based on the response time from Sol's escape and subsequent ambush, I strongly suspect that these smugglers have a base somewhere in the region. If your scouts locate anything, do not engage, but report back to me at once. If the scouts are spotted, the smugglers will bolt as soon as they can. If possible, attack if they evacuate, but only if you're certain you will not be ambushed or outnumbered." "Understood sir. I will not fail you," Arrel said with a curt nod. "I suspect not. I am going to take the Backlash to Serapis and conduct some intelligence gathering. I'll contact you with further orders if necessary. Beyond that, remain vigilant." He stood up and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You will get another chance, Captain. Sol can't hide forever, and when she makes her move, we will make ours, and then all the times she's slipped through our nets will mean nothing." He smiled thinly. "Dismissed." Arrel nodded, a hint of a smile crossing her face. "Yes sir, thank you sir." She saluted smartly before pivoting and walking out of Griff's office. Griff remained where he was for a moment, turning to look out the wide viewport at the other vessels in his task force, mentally analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of each as he walked to the small table on one side of the room. On it was a chessboard, the pieces already in play. He paused a moment, touching his lips, and made the move for black. Griff enjoyed playing against others, but when he lacked the opportunity, he found that playing against himself made for a challenging match, and it gave him a chance to pit the various facets of his mind against themselves, testing his own strategies, and seeing what he, as the opposition, would do to counter them. This match was going well so far, it had been continuing for almost a week now, and both sides were still arraying themselves against the other. Griff shot one more look out the window, before turning and leaving the room, heading back to the bridge. "We used to confine our activities to hit and run raids in the Solam region, those refinery platforms at Bel Halla were easy targets for awhile," said Derricote as he walked through one of the hewn-stone corridors of the base. "But then the Avanguard started catching on, and more and more times we would find warships waiting for us at each target. They almost managed to trap us at Bremler station, but a bit of fancy flying and a lot of luck got most of us out by the skin of our teeth." Derricote glanced at Sol, his expression serious. "We found out later the Avanguard had Admiral Griff after us personally. I'm a bit flattered that one of their star tacticians was charged with our case." Sol smiled as she walked beside Derricote. "I'm not familiar with Griff, but if the Avanguard was intent enough to devote a member of the Admiralty to you, they must've seen you as a serious threat." "That's actually what we're trying to avoid at present. Notoriety may seem like a booster, but it also paints a big bulls-eye on your butt, and when they're dispatching attack forces specifically for you, life gets a whole lot more complicated. Fortunately, we seem to be presently off their watch list, as there hasn't been a peep in our direction since we abandoned Solam." Ivar walked on the opposite side of Derricote, still glancing around, absorbed in his examination of the base. "Impressive place, commander," he said, forgetting yet again that Derricote carried no rank. "But I must ask, where is your power source? You took us through your engineering and utility sections, but I never saw anything bigger than emergency batteries." Derricote smiled widely. "Oh, now this is clever. You see, this base was never made operational, and therefore a reactor system was never installed. There's a nice big empty slot for it down on deck ten, but we're using that for storage." He reached over and thumped the back of his hand on the rock wall. "We keep our power supply out and ready to move at a moment's notice. You recall that tanker moored outside?" Sol flicked a look at Derricote. "Yesss..." she said slowly, not sure where he was going with this. "We refitted the empty tank sections with industrial size power cores, more than sufficient to run the base. We then place our power conduits through the mooring lines, and can run everything here. And the best part, say some unwelcome guests show up, we can switch over to batteries in a minute, and then have our main power supply on the first wave out, and that makes establishing a new base somewhere else a lot easier. If we installed reactors in the asteroid and had to abandon it, it would be a waste, but this way, we can conserve a critical element." Ivar perked both eyebrows. "A clever tactic, I must admit. And if you did evacuate, nobody would give the tanker a second look around civilian bases." "Exactly." Derricote made another turn and they found themselves back in the main hangar, next to the row of parked ships. The canine led the two of them along, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you to your ships. I do hope you'll consider our offer," he said, walking past a beat-up freighter, and rubbing a palm along the hull. "We'll do some thinking," said Sol. She glanced along the row, noticing the orca shaped assault ship, which seemed to be well maintained. Derricote nodded at it. "The Switchblade, Tyra's ship. Her pride and joy, I'm surprised she's not down here painting kills on her hull," Derricote mused. Sol walked along the front of the ship, nodding. "Looks custom made, could probably turn some heads," she commented. "Oh, it can, especially with her driving it," smirked Derricote. There was a rude sounding noise from nearby, where a pair of booted feet came out from under the hull of the angular, multi-finned vessel. "If that thing can turn heads, I can give them whiplash," came a cocky voice from under the ship. Sol walked over to the other fighter and squatted down, looking under it. There was Drayf, his hands covered in grease as he closed an access panel. He smirked. "Welcome to my little corner of the hangar," he said with a smirk, waving a hand at the lower hull. "The Diamond Duster, MY little pride and joy." Sol rolled her eyes. "Derricote was right, you really ARE full of it," she said. Drayf didn't even let the jibe sting him. "Say what you want, but even Derricote will say I'm the best here. Period. They all don't like to admit it, but I can run rings around anyone out there." "Just because you're good doesn't mean you're invincible," she mused. "Close enough. See this paint? Original coat, barely even been scuffed. Helps too, when I have to shuck bogeys off of my teammates tails. Have to look good for it." "You know, watching out for your wingmates shouldn't be all about the glory or looking good." Drayf made another noise. "Whatever." "I have to admit Mr. Drayf, I've met a lot of overinflated egos over the years, but yours has got to be the worst." "I'll take that as a compliment." Sol rolled her eyes. "Right. But keep in mind, one of these days, its going to bite you in the ass. I suggest you remember that." Drayf snorted. "And maybe you amateurs shouldn't be giving advice to the pros." There was a noise from over Sol's shoulder, as Ivar growled. Derricote stepped forward. "That's enough Drayf..." Sol held up a hand. "I can handle this. Mr. Drayf, I think your self-image needs a bit of deflating. I do suppose this base has simulator pods?" There was an audible wince from Derricote, and Drayf slid out from under his ship, getting to his feet and looking Sol in the eye with a little half smile. "Miss, if you're saying you want to go, you just bought yourself a thrashing. Only one thing, sims are for amateurs. If you have the guts, meet me in space and set your weapons to training mode." He snapped his finger at a nearby technician. "Get me and this lady here some dummy missiles, assuming she isn't going to back down," he said, glancing back at Sol. Sol stepped forward, her face only a few inches from Drayf's. "Bring it on, stripetail," she shot back acidly. Drayf smiled. "Alright then, lets see if all the things we've heard about Sol are as true as they say." He turned and headed back to his fighter. Sol glanced at Ivar. "Seeing as my fighter isn't in the best shape from the fight, I'm borrowing yours," she said calmly. Derricote chewed his lip. "Sol, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, fidgeting a little. "He may be brash, overblown, and full of himself, but he IS good." Sol smiled. "I like a challenge. Besides, the prospect of seeing his face after he loses is too good to pass up." "At least take one of our custom ships, Tyra would lend you the Switchblade if it would mean beating Drayf. You won't stand a chance in a stock Kaiser." "I'll be fine, thank you." Sol smiled and headed off towards Ivar's ship. Derricote glanced at Ivar. "I think she may have bitten off more than she can chew. The Duster is nasty in the hands of even an amateur, she's in for a tough fight." "She can handle herself," said Ivar calmly, "She may even surprise you." He glanced back towards the back of the hangar. Word was obviously already spreading fast around the base, as a group of personnel had clustered around a service table, and from the looks of things, bets were being placed. Ivar sighed and shook his head. "Come on, they're going to do this, so lets go see how it turns out." Sol sat in the cockpit of Ivar's Kaiser, her hands tightly gripping the controls. The Diamond Duster lay off to the portside, it's quad fins already extended, a subtle blue glow coming from the exhaust. Derricote's voice came over the comm. "Alright, one on one. No restrictions, but don't get yourselves killed. I'm looking at you Drayf." Sol glanced at Drayf's canopy, where the ringtail had his goggles secured over his eyes, scarf still around his neck. "You both have a full load of dummy missiles, and lasers are set to practice mode. I show both onboard computers ready to record hits accordingly. Both of you are free to go on my mark." Sol tightened her grip. "Mark." The Duster was off the line in a flash, kicking around in a tight roll and diving straight down. Sol kicked her thrusters to full power and streaked after, at a disappointing distance. Derricote had been right, the damn thing was fast. Sol dropped her targeting box over the trapezoidal engine section and fired repeatedly, but Drayf was obviously expecting this and made a fast turn, skipping out of her gunsights. "That was your free shot," came Drayf's voice. "Now we play by my rules." The Duster made a fast U-turn and came right back at her, though at enough of an upward angle that he wasn't going to go head-to-head. Sol fired back, trying to catch an angled deflection shot, but the weaving was making the shot impossible. Drayf passed over her so closely that she could've sworn she saw the serial number on the engine casing, but just as fast it was gone. Sol rolled around, trying to come in behind him, but the other fighter was far faster, and Sol's scanner showed the other fighter coming up fast behind her. She threw herself hard to starboard as four steams of simulated laser fire hissed past, uncomfortably close. Cursing, she faked upward and then steered into a dive. Her maneuver threw Drayf off long enough for him to overshoot, giving Sol a moment to come up with a strategy. That ship is too fast and too maneuverable to fight in open space. I'll evade him for awhile, but taking the offensive is going to be almost impossible. Fortunately... Sol kicked power into the drives and raced deeper into the planetary ring system. Drayf was hot on her heels, but the presence of more and more chunks of ice and rock was forcing him to drop back a little to avoid them. Sol zeroed in on one of the larger chunks, which was a large, fragmented oval, with a single crack running halfway through it. Rolling her ship on its side, she shot through the gap, but immediately cut the throttles and waited for Drayf to come racing through after her. He never did, and Sol made a startled cry as a series of beeps from her computer indicated that she was taking fire. Drayf, not fooled a bit, had come around the rock and right up behind Sol as her attention had been focussed on her ambush. She rolled along the surface of the rock, skimming over the surface low, as Drayf raced after. The damage wasn't serious, only a drain on the shields, but it did teach her Drayf wasn't stupid, and maybe she could use that against him. Leaving the shadow of the asteroid, Sol wove around smaller rocks, even as Drayf squeezed off random shots behind her, none of them connecting. Sol looked back and forth, trying to find the perfect place... there, another larger rock, bigger than the last, almost a moon in itself. Sol raced for it, the fragmented surface growling larger in the canopy. Sol pulled a quick turn, the belly of her craft skimming mere meters over the rock. "Sol, you're going to have to better than that," Drayf mocked her. Sol smiled. "Oh? How about this?" Sol made a sudden roll to the left, revealing the large rock pillar the profile of her ship had obscured. The Duster made a hard, unplanned bank, and Sol came around the backside of the column, right behind Drayf. Without hesitating, she armed a pair of missiles and fired, not even waiting for the lock; she had a straight shot, and one good punch would be all she would need. The two missiles streaked out, dumb fired, right at Drayf's tailpipe. He rolled fast, one of them skinning past the Duster's narrow profile, but the other clipped his main engine, emitting a puff of metal particles from the simulated explosion. Sol smiled; the other fighter had sustained heavy damage, though it hadn't been destroyed. Drayf rolled to one side, out of Sol's line of fire, being another rock spire. "Cute. Very cute, but if you think I'm going to throw in the towel now, you've got a rude surprise coming," Drayf said, not nearly as cocky now. The Duster had momentarily disappeared in the rock crags, and Sol at the moment didn't know where it was, which made her nervous. "Come out Drayf, I'm not done with you yet," said Sol. There was a chuckle. "Your wish is my command." The Duster immediately hopped up over a ridge, and Sol saw the profile of the ship right in front of her. She fired her cannons, but stopped as an alarm went off. Drayf had gotten a missile lock, and right now, a pair of very unwelcome presents was streaking right at Sol's nose. She threw the stick hard to port, watching the display as the missiles moved to track her, skimming over the surface of the rock. She lost sight of where Drayf was, but at the moment, the location of his ship was secondary to evading the missiles. Gritting her teeth, she rocketed away from the surface, only to suddenly dive back down over a ridge, into a large chasm in the surface. Ramming the throttles forward, she saw that the missiles were still with her, aiming right down the center of the chasm. Sol raced along, sure that Drayf was still around somewhere, but he would be dealt with later. Gritting her teeth, Sol let the missiles close in, and suddenly flipped ninety degrees, placing the belly of her ship against one of the chasm edges. One missile, trying to follow the angled maneuver, shot past and exploded against the rock wall. The other wavered, momentarily losing sight of Sol, giving her the chance to slip out of the crevice. Sol shot into the inner ring system, where the rocks were smaller, but there were more of them. Craning her head around, she watched with satisfaction as a foot-wide chunk of rock caught the missile and battered it apart. She quickly refocused her attention ahead, dodging rocks. Her sensors showed no sign of Drayf, and that made her nervous. The bastard had proved himself quite clever. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." she whispered, her eyes scanning the rocky fields for any hint of movement. Sol kept moving forward at a steady pace, not sure exactly what to look for... Sol would've missed the Duster entirely if it weren't for one errant, tumbling rock. The fighter had been parked on the backside of a twenty-meter rock, and the muted engine exhaust had been enough to pitch a rock in an unnatural fashion. Sol quickly dodged, just in time to avoid the laser fire from Drayf as he emerged, his ambush obviously thwarted. She went into a quick skid, spinning back around to face the Duster as it came out of its turn, raking a stream of laser fire along it's exposed flank. Drayf was quick enough to pitch upwards, most of the fire sailing around the narrowed profile, but Sol's computer showed that he'd sustained critical damage. One more blast and this match was hers. In that brief moment of overconfidence, Drayf came around hard, pivoting right past Sol, blasting away into the rocks. Sol came after, in hot pursuit, intending to finish this fast. She raised an eyeridge as Drayf slalomed back and forth, throwing the larger aft end of his craft side to side, almost at random... it didn't make sense. In an abrupt realization, Sol realized what Drayf was doing. He was pitching his exhaust port so the superheated exhaust was liquefying rocks in his wake... as the molten rock recrystalized in the coldness of space, if coalesced in clouds of tiny rocks, which were now raining across her shields, creating a multitude of bright flashes with each impact. Sol squinted, he was trying to blind her, and it was working. She lost sight of his ship and had to devote all her energies to not colliding with larger rocks. When the shower cleared, Drayf was, once again, gone. Sol slammed her fists on the control board. "Aaaaaargh! Why don't you come out and fight face to face you sneaky son of a-" "Sol?" The dragoness's rant was cut off midway as Drayf broke into the comm. "What?" she snarled. "I swear, this had not be part of a-" "Look behind you." Sol shot a glance to the rear, and felt the bottom fall out of her gut. Apparently, during her momentarily blindness, Drayf had cut his engines, and let Sol sail right past him, and was now had the nose of his ship less than ten feet away. Drayf waved from his cockpit jauntily, and there was a double thump as he put a pair of simulated missiles right into her aft at point blank range. He computer screen turned red, indicating that she'd been destroyed. Resisting the urge to break something, Sol pressed the comm switch. "That would be it, I suppose," she growled through clenched teeth. "Indeed it would. Good run though, you're better than most of the pilots I face off against. Don't feel bad though, you lasted longer than I thought you would." "Oh, that makes me feel SO much better. I'd still be dead." "Well, you would've succeeded in ruining my paint job, so I suppose that counts for something. Shall we?" He nudged the nose of his ship back towards the base. "Oh let's," muttered Sol icily, following after him. Ivar was waiting for Sol back on the deck, his arms folded across his chest. "I lost," Sol stated bluntly. Ivar nodded. "I know. I saw it via the sensor uplink. If it makes you feel any better, after a few minutes of you not getting shot down, there were a couple of people around here worrying about losing bets." "I was the long shot I suppose?" "Around ten to one. I never saw any official odds." He smiled. "Don't worry about it, I doubt any of our crew is going to think any less of you for it." Sol scratched the back of her head. "Yeah, I know... I just would've liked to have taken Drayf down a few pegs." "I think you weren't alone on that one. Tyra, I think her name was, up until the end, that little half smile never left her face. I think she thought you had it." "Well, sorry to disappoint her. Where's Derricote?" Ivar shrugged. "Not sure really. He was watching the match, and I think somebody tapped him on the shoulder about something, and he left." "Odd." "Very. Well, let's find him, I think it would at least be polite to say goodbye before we go." "Indeed... are you going to consider his offer?" "Very, very carefully. His people seem well trained and motivated... I wouldn't even mind Drayf so much if he was on our side." "Point. It would seem our quarry has found us," Ivar added, as Derricote jogged over, carrying a small portable display. "Mr. Derricote?" asked Ivar, a bit suspiciously. Derricote caught his breath. "I know you were on your way out, but this just came through." He activated the display, showing the unmistakable appearance of an Avanguard comm log. "We intercepted this just a few minutes ago. An Avanguard munitions ship, the Flakker, suffered a navigation malfunction and dropped out of light speed, not far from here. Their nav system is wiped, and they won't be able to go anywhere until they obtain a new dump." His eyes brightened. "They report their position as somewhere in the Celtrin Ice Cloud. That's only a few hours from here, and we're going to try and get to that ship before the Avanguard finds it. An entire shipload of military grade weapons would be very useful." Sol blinked. "So why are you telling us this?" "Because, we don't have a fix on the Flakker's exact position, so we're going to have to set up a search pattern. The more ships we have, the better chance we have of finding her first." He paused, a pleading look on his face. "If your group helps out, we can search almost twice as fast. We'd be willing to split the ships contents with you, if we get it, but we need to move fast... every second we wait is more time for the Avanguard to locate her." Sol glanced at Ivar for a moment. "Alright, we'll lend a hand. A warning though, our scrambler cannons are looking a bit iffy, I don't want to use them this fight. But I'll get back and inform my people, any particular search pattern in mind?" Derricote nodded. "We'll pair up our ships and fan out from the best fix we could get on the signal. With any luck, we'll be long gone by the time the Avanguard shows up." "Alright. What about boarding her? I doubt her crew will give her up without a fight, and munitions ships are probably tougher nuts to crack than regular transports." "We'll try to convince them to surrender, but if that fails, we'll blast the engines and weapons. We'll use Draylen's ship to carry our assault personnel, pull up to the airlock, and take her by force if necessary." Sol nodded. "Alright, sounds like a plan. We'll link up with your ships outside, I'll have my comm officer inform you what frequencies we'll be running at." Derricote smiled. "Sounds like a plan, see you in space." "Captain?" Jenna Arrel turned around from her console; her long braid of hair swinging to one side, facing the officer had addressed her. "Yes Mr. Ross?" she said coolly. "We've been relayed a distress call from one of our munitions ships, the Flakker. She's lost her navigation and is currently stranded and requesting assistance. Based on the last reported position, we're one of the closest ships." Arrel chewed her lip. Griff had given her orders to search for the smuggler base, but common sense urged her to assist. She thought for a few moments. "Mr. Ross, transmit a message to the Backlash, inform them of our situation, indicate that the Ironhand is going to assist. The Delgado will continue our search." Arrel knew full well that she could be criticized for temporarily taking her ship off its active assignment, but Griff had encouraged her to think independently, and something was tugging at her gut. "Yes, Captain." "Inform Commander Raveen on the Delgado as well, tell him we'll be back shortly, he's in command until I return. If his squadrons find anything, relay it to me at once." She turned. "Helm, set course for the Flakker's last known position. Can we signal them back?" "Negative, we can't get an accurate fix on their position, and we can't reach them short of an open broadcast, which would not be helpful to our current mission." "Agreed. We'll do this the old fashioned way then. Ahead full." The Ironhand left the formation, it's engines igniting and coming to full power as Arrel left the rest of her task force behind. "So, here we are again," came Carla's voice over the comm. Sol smiled thinly as they passed another chunk of tumbling ice. "Getting a sense of Déjà vu, Two?" she commented mildly. "Funny. Just for once, I'd like to go into a fight with the enemy sitting right there, waiting to be blasted instead of playing hide and seek." "Well, at least we're just hunting a lumbering cargo ship this time, instead of an Avanguard battle group." "Yeah, yeah. Anything since the last status report?" "Nothing yet. One of Derricote's groups picked up something, but it turned out to be a piece of hulk." "Tell them to haul it back, knowing them, they'll patch it up and slap a few more guns on it, not to mention some hot-rod engines." Sol chuckled. "Wouldn't surprise me." She lowered her voice, as if someone would hear. "So what do you think of them?" There was a pause. "They seem friendly enough, and honest enough... for smugglers anyway, which means you can usually trust them as long as your cash supply holds out." "Derricote didn't seem to be in it for the money." "Well, he may be the exception. These outer rim spacer types are in it for the girls, the guns, and the glory, and enough money can buy all of those." Sol smiled. "Well, they would seem to be collecting enough of their own cash to hold out." If Carla was going to reply, she was interrupted. "One, this is Five, out in grid section 28. I think I may have something, power spike coming from an ice cluster. Could be a freighter in low-power mode." "Copy that, Five. Close to investigate, but stay on your toes, and maintain open channel." "Understood, One." Carla came back. "So what do you think, another wreck?" "I doubt it. This area isn't to heavily traveled, and while you have the occasional ice mining operation, this stuff is so crammed with dust and impurities you wouldn't get much for it." "Studying up on your Economics, Lead?" "Just common sense. I mean, these things..." Sol waved a hand at an ice chunk, which looked like a dirt-riddled snowball, "...They look like somebody rolled them around a garbage dump for a few hours." Carla laughed. "Funny Lead, I..." She broke off as Five broke back in. "Contact! Target is within the cluster... check, incoming fire!" Sol was on her board in an instant. "Five, pull back! You found her, that's all that matters. Wait for the larger ships, we don't need any dead heroes. Just keep her tagged." "Copy One, pulling back..." the pilot was obviously still a bit stunned. "Whew, came around an iceberg and there she was. No damage, they seemed just as surprised as we were." "Understood, Five. Relay to Derricote's crew and the rest of our ships. What's the ship doing?" "She just powered up, now that her secret's out, coming about... yep, main engines are online, I think she's going to try and make a break for it at sublight, seeing as jumping with no Nav is about as stupid as you can get. Relaying now." Sol smirked. "Well Two, you got your wish. Follow me, we've got a big fat target waiting for us." "Right with you, Lead." By the time Sol and Carla reached the target zone, the battle had yet to begin. The munitions ship was a fairly utilitarian looking vessel, a large boxy cargo section with six drive engines bolted to the aft end, and a squat command tower located just above them. However, unlike normal cargo ships, this one had a nasty looking missile battery along the ridgeline, and a couple gun turrets attached to each side. Along with the evident hull-braces, the thing looked like it was meant to take a pounding, as well as dish one out. Derricote's gunship and a combat modified bulk freighter were closing to firing range, and the Dark Star was in the process of setting up a flanking maneuver to cut off the freighter's escape route. Fighter from both groups hovered at the edge of gunnery range, like sharks waiting to strike. Derricote's voice came over the comm. "Munitions ship Flakker, power down your weapons and engines and prepare to receive boarders. We only want your cargo, and we're prepared to spare the lives of you and your crew if you cooperate." The Avanguard captain came back. "Listen you scum, we aren't going to knuckle under for you, or anyone else. Get lost, before reinforcements arrive and you all end up eating vacuum." "Flakker, you are surrounded and outgunned. You have no chance to escape, and reinforcements aren't coming. No one needs to die here. We need your cargo, so you can either hand it over, or we can take it by force." "You won't take us intact. Back off." There was a pause. "Alright boys, I think this is enough small talk. Take it to them." There was another pause as Derricote switched frequencies. "Nice of you to join us Sol. I see your people seem to be lining up nicely." "Its what we're here for. We just hitting the weapons and engines?" said Sol smoothly. "Just the weapons. The thing is too big to unload ourselves, so we need to be able to fly her out of here. If we can keep their attention on us, Draylen is going to bring our commandos to the ventral docking port and they'll take control of the ship from there." "Sounds like a plan." "Indeed. Let's do some damage, shall we?" The comm shut off and the gunship opened fire, followed by the freighter, aiming at the Avanguard vessel's weapons arrays, the shields flickering under a sustained pounding. However, the enemy captain wasn't going to take this lying down, and fire was returned swiftly, focussed mainly on the gunship. "Alright. All fighters engage, aim for the teeth. We want this thing intact." ordered Sol, flicking a row of switches over her head. "Two, I'm making my run, cover me." "Right with you, Lead." Sol jammed the throttles to full and shot towards the freighter. She tagged each of the weapons mounts with her scanners, and picked one of the closer gun turrets as the first target, dropping her crosshairs over it and squeezing the triggers. Streams of laserfire lanced out, striking the shields, a few blasts skipping through the energy wall and blackening hull sections on the turret itself. All around her, other fighters, from Derricote's forces and her own, were painting the freighter and opening fire. Multiple streams of energy pounding at the shields lit up the freighter's hull in a dazzling light show, while the larger blasts from the weapons of the larger ships created visible energy ripples. While each bolt by itself didn't do much, combined, all those joules of energy were having a substantial draining effect on the shields, as more and more blasts were skittering across open hull. Sol slipped past the row of gun turrets, which had obviously figured out that the fighters were just as big a threat as the larger ships, and could be substantially easier kills, if they could be hit. The closest turret opened up, squeezing off a rapid-fire burst that went wide as Sol sideslipped around it, blasting back. The armor covering the turret could only stand so much, and with shield energy rapidly falling, more blasts were getting through than were being stopped, and as she neared the apex of her pass, the turret came apart in a small puff of ionized metal. Sol immediately doubled back as the other two guns in the row designated her as the primary threat and opened up, though it was clear they were designed for attacking larger ships, and none came close. As Sol dropped back, she gasped sharply as another one of the turrets blew up, pierced by a pair of missiles. The Diamond Duster skipped past, tracing laser fire across the hull before zipping away, giving a small dip of its fins as it passed Sol. She rolled her eyes and followed it out. "Everyone, her shields are down," came Derricote's voice. "Check your fire, target weapons only. We don't want anyone to get a lucky shot and destroy the thing by accident. Tarx, we'll keep them busy, you get our boys in there so we can get this done." The freighter, unwilling to accept defeat, even with the loss of its shields, pivoted towards the gunship, releasing a number of missiles from the forward cluster. Many of them exploded against the shields, but a couple skipped through the gaps, exploding against the hull and blackening a good portion of it. "This is the gunship Spitzer, we need to pull back. That blast did a number on our outer hull and another one like it is going to give more than a few compartments some unwanted ventilation. Somebody hit that missile battery, will ya?" came the gunship's captain as it pulled back, "I'm on it," came Jaime's voice, as Sol spotted his Nonar coming back around from behind the freighter. A couple smuggler craft came up behind him. "Seven, this is the Switchblade and the Last Chance, hope you don't mind if we join you." came a new female voice over the comm. "Not at all. Let's pull some teeth." The interceptor jetted forward, targeting the missile battery from behind. The battery itself was more heavily armored than the turrets, and whoever was manning the thing wasn't going to sit there and be shot. The battery swiveled around, targeting the fighters. "Seven! Watch yourself, it's still hot," called Sol into the comm, as she came around the freighter's aft, preparing to strafe the turrets on the opposite side. "Copy that, Lead. It won't stay that way for long." The interceptor fired repeatedly into the blocky missile battery, but even as Jaime attacked, the missile battery launched a full spread of untargeted missiles, apparently aiming to just catch the attackers head on. Sol caught a startled curse from Jaime, but his impromptu wingmates were apparently expecting this, and multiple shots blasted nearly all the missiles. One of them exploded an uncomfortably close distance, but Jaime came through unscathed. The Last Chance, however, was showing considerable damage from the shrapnel, and was trailing gasses from several hull ruptures, not to mention flying with a distinct limp. "You ok, Chance?" commed Jaime. "Just a little burned, I'm going to have to pull out. Do me a favor and make these guys pay for ruining my paint job." "Consider it done." Jaime jetted forward, the Switchblade right behind. He released a pair of missiles, which was joined by one more from the smuggler fighter. The missile battery, still reloading for the next salvo, was caught flat footed. The missiles detonated and blew the battery apart in a hail of fire and debris. "Seven to all ships, missiles are gone, how are we doing?" "Portside is clean, two guns left on starboard," replied Derricote. "Anyone heard from the boarders?" Abruptly the freighter stopped shooting and all forward movement ceased. Draylen's voice broke in over the comm. "Ah, this is the new command crew of the Flakker speaking, we formally turn this ship over to these 'renegade forces', along with all our cargo." There was a chuckle from Derricote. "Tarx, when I last talked to you, you were the captain of a light transport, and now you've got a bulk freighter. Moving up the command ladder are we?" "Call it a good day." "I think we will. What's your status?" There was a pause. "We have the bridge and engineering, most of the old crew has either surrendered or has been knocked out. If you'll send us a nav dump, we can get this bucket out of here before the Avanguard comes down on us." "Got it, transmitting now. Any casualties?" "A couple light burns, but for this being a munitions ship, these bums were pretty lightly armed, nothing bigger than light rifles." "Understood. Do you have enough to operate that thing now, or do you need additional crew?" "We can handle it, not exactly rocket science to drive this thing. Dump received, all navigation systems back online, we're ready to move out. Back to base, or somewhere else?" "Back to base. We've got a good load of weaponry to sort through, and we'll need to-" "Derricote!" It was the pilot of the Switchblade. "Unknown contact, twelve degrees by ten, closing fast... shit, that's the Ironhand!" Sol whipped her head around, and there, coming in past a group of icy asteroids, was a fairly familiar modified Avanguard cruiser, already deploying its fighter squadrons. She quickly switched frequencies. "Derricote, get the Flakker out of here, we'll hold them off. Don't let that thing near your larger ships, they'll be taken apart." "Thank you, I'm well aware of the capabilities of that ship. All fighters, set up a defensive perimeter, hold back their strike craft, as soon as we're clear, get the hell out." "Understood," said Sol, through a hail of other acknowledgements. She turned towards the approaching fighters, gritting her teeth. Now things were beginning to get hairy. "The Flakker is definitely under enemy control," reported the Ironhand sensor officer. "Looks like she's on a withdrawal course." Captain Arrel chewed her lip; they'd found the munitions ship, but someone else had found it first. "Deploy our fighters, and bring all weapons online. I want that ship destroyed before we let it fall into enemy hands. Comm, give me open channel." "Yes captain, channel open." Arrel took a breath. "All ships, you are in possession of Avanguard property. Surrender the Flakker or be destroyed. You have thirty seconds." Without even pausing or waiting, she motioned to the gunnery officer. "Fire. Kill them all. Try to salvage the munitions ship if you can. If not, destroy it too." She turned. Arrel was tired of playing games with these insurgents. Carla let out a yelp as the first heavy salvos rippled through their formation, not hitting anyone this time, but forcing a couple of erratic maneuvers. "Fastest thirty seconds I've ever had," she commented sourly over Sol's comm, "Where'd that bitch learn to count?" Sol had to agree, the Avanguard captain had barely finished talking when they'd opened fire, and the enemy fighters would be on them soon. "Two, all we have to do is hold the fighters back long enough for the larger ships to get away." "Easier said than done, they've got us outnumbered, and they have covering fire." Again, Sol was forced to agree. "Alright, we go one on one, just keep them busy. Don't go near the cruiser or you're dead." As soon as Sol finished speaking, the Ironhand fired its heavy missile clusters, releasing groups of the heavy warheads towards the retreating capital ships. "Dammit, can't do anything about those ones. Derricote, watch yourself, you have incoming. Everyone else, any missiles they launch, hit them hard." She kicked her throttles up and shot into the growing fray. All around Sol, dogfights raged, and she'd barely finished frying her first kill when she had trouble of her own, namely a pair of enemy fighters on her tail. She went evasive, and was fearing a short battle for herself as her shields lost power from repeated hits. Then, all of a sudden, they were both gone, expanding clouds of debris. Drayf shot past, through the debris, not bothering to taunt her this time... even the ace pilot was in it deep today and was using every ounce of expertise to keep himself alive. Sol turned and shucked an enemy fighter off of Carla in return. With more than five squadrons worth of strike craft engaging one another, space was getting very full, and friendly fire was a serious risk. Sol ducked and wove around both friendly and enemy ships, snapping off shots here and there, occasionally hazarding a glance at her instruments. Derricote's ships were taking heavy damage, the initial missiles had all but destroyed the gunship, and the freighter had lost shields. The amount of scarring on the Flakker indicated that the cruiser was willing to sacrifice the munitions ship to prevent it from falling into their hands. Fortunately, however, no fighters had gotten through, and they were gradually pulling away as they prepared to run to hyperspace. Sol blasted another errant fighter, and caught a few stray lasers across the nose before Derricote's voice came back. "Alright, we're clear, get out of there now. Rendezvous at the Serai then get back at base as soon as you can." With that, the gunship, the freighter, the Flakker, and the Dark Star all vanished from the scopes. At once, the allied vessels peeled away, away from the Avanguard fighters. There seemed to be fewer of the attacking ships now, but the allied vessels definitely had a good amount of damage all around. Sol swung around. "Two, cover me while I make my run." The fact that no voice came back scared her clear to her boots. "Two? You there?" she said, a little panicked. "Fireball One, this is the Duster. Two already made her run, she was leaking coolant and had to get out fast," came Drayf's voice. "We're the last ones... well, the last living ones anyway. Get going, I'll cover you." An alarm went off in Sol's cockpit as one of the Avanguard fighters gave her some parting gifts; a pair of incoming missiles. She scrambled for the display. They were close, way to close to spin around and engage or evade. "Drayf-" she started. "I see them, I see them. Keep going, and leave this to me." The Duster kicked around hard and opened up with its cannons. One of the missiles vanished from the scopes, but the other emitted a bright flash... on her display, both the second missile and the Duster's ID beacon no longer appeared. Drayf had demonstrated that despite all his bluster and boasting, he was a good man to have at your side... and he'd demonstrated it by making the ultimate sacrifice for her. Biting back a curse, Sol made her own, lonely run, leaving the Avanguard fighters behind. Derricote was somber when Sol gave him the news. "I can't believe it," he said solemnly. "Of everyone who didn't come back, I never would've suspected Drayf would be one of them." Sol nodded. "I saw it with my sensors. He's gone." She paused, sighing. "You've secured the Flakker?" Derricote nodded. "Yes. We're inventorying everything on board, some impressive stuff. We'll have your half ready as soon as you need it." "Keep it for now. We don't have the space to store it until we find a new base. We'll call on you then." "Of course." He paused. "This was a costly battle." "Yes... you have brave people serving with you." "They do what they need to." Sol was quiet. "Do you have any memorials planned?" "I was going to say a few words on the hangar deck in an hour or so." Sol paused. "Myself and my senior officers wish to attend. Most of us owe their lives to some of your people." Derricote smiled. "I'll look forward to it. What of your future plans?" "After helping with your evacuation, we'll find a new base and then let you know... I think an alliance is the best plan, but we need to establish ourselves again as well. We'll be in touch with you, and there are a number of organizations I've heard about that might be worth contacting." Derricote nodded again. "Good." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "They'll all be avenged. Everyone we lost." Sol looked at Derricote with a weak smile. "I know. And the sooner, the better. Come on, let's go see what our people got us." Admiral Griff stood on the Backlash's hangar deck, his curiosity piqued. Captain Arrel had arrived and had stated plainly that she had something that might make their job easier. He'd already read her report about the loss of the munitions ship, and had not been happy about it, but Arrel had stated that this would more than make up for it. The Avanguard shuttle touched down on the deck with a clank and the aft hatchway opened, the ramp lowering. Arrel strode down the ramp, straight backed, and saluted smartly. "Admiral," she said calmly. "Captain. You said you had something that may interest me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Arrel nodded and motioned at the shuttle. Two Avanguard soldiers pushed a battered looking ringtail down the ramp where he landed with a hard thud, some blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Arrel continued. "After the battle, we found this piece of scum unconscious in his ship. I believe he's one of the insurgents, and I thought you might be interested in having a word or two with him," she said, a hint of a smile crossing her face. Griff smiled sardonically and knelt down before the ringtail. His fur was matted with blood and a little bit burned. His clothing was torn, and the flight goggles around his neck contained a cracked lens. Griff looked down at the ringtail. "Well, I think you guessed right, Captain. Tell me sir, what's your name?" The ringtail snarled and spat, a wad of bloody saliva landing next to Griff's boot. "I won't tell you bastards anything," he growled. Griff simply smiled. "Of course you won't. Betraying your comrades would be a travesty wouldn't it?" The ringtail simply bared his teeth. Griff got back to his feet and motioned at the guards. "Get him to medical and get him cleaned up. I want him prepared for interrogation tomorrow morning," he said brusquely. The ringtail narrowed his eyes as he was hauled to his feet. "Why bother?" he spat. "All that medical attention will be wasted when your goons beat the tar out of me for not giving anything up." Griff smiled thinly. "You would be referring to the method of information gathering used by many of my associates. See, breaking the body only strengthens the mind. With me... you can tell me what I want to know, or I can take your mind apart like a jigsaw puzzle and take what I want. If you take the second option, it simply takes a little longer, and there isn't much of your psyche left when I finish." Griff smiled again, this time it was a cold, devious expression with not a hint or mirth in it, and from the look on the ringtail's face, he wasn't nearly as confident as he'd been a few moments ago. Griff waved the troopers off, and they dragged the ringtail away. He looked to Arrel. "Thank you captain, he will be most helpful, and you were right, he will more than make up for the loss of the cargo ship. After we crush these insurgents, we won't have to ever worry about losing any more. Ironhand and Delgado will continue their searching down the smuggler's retreat vectors, but I suspect I'll have new orders for you very, very soon." He gave her a salute, which Arrel returned briskly, before turning back to the shuttle. Griff, on the other hand, had to get a few things ready. He had a new mind to pick at, and while it was something he thoroughly enjoyed, being prepared was always the best option. Suppressing a smile, he reentered the lift and the doors closed behind him. To be continued... Alright, thats the end, sorry for the lack of yiffy bits. Faora will be continuing this series, so keep an eye on his page for more. In the meantime, feel free to e-mail me and offer comments, criticisms, or suggestions