It’s been just two weeks since I felt the need to make myself scarce for a while and head out into the Big Black. I needed time to think about things, time to find some greater meaning, justify my existence, who knows what? Maybe I just needed to find myself.
It was a real wrench having to leave Sammy though. She’d been a real bright light in my life since we’d hooked up. She kept me civilised, stopped me getting blind drunk in the Star & Garter every night, gave me a reason to get up and carry on each morning. Plus she was a damned good Chief Engineer. She could take your ship apart and put her back together for you without having to look at the manual. A real old-school, hands-on kind of girl. I’d found her when I was looking for somewhere out of the way to stash the Cobra on Cook Ring...
It’s now been some months since I entered the Eta Draconis system and took up with the 8th Dragon squadron in their fight for justice for Gold Vision Co. It sure made a change from the grind of trading and the Dragons are a great bunch of Commanders to share a few beers with, that’s for sure.
Then there was the Gliese 900.1 campaign, where we’d been fighting to help Emperor’s Grace gain control of the system. I’d had a little trouble with this one as I’d had some financial problems paying off the loan I took out when I bought the Cobra back in Eravate...
A couple of nights ago I arrived in the Eta Draconis system, following a tip-off from a fellow Commander that things were starting to get interesting in-system due to a state of civil unrest during what seemed to be an attempted Federation takeover, and that a sharp entrepreneurial trader like myself should be able to make some reasonable money there.
I’d been running the same rare items trade circuit back and forth for a couple of weeks, spending every spare credit I could on much-needed repairs and upgrades to my second-hand Cobra Mk. 3, the ‘Objects in Mirror are Closer than they Appear’. She’s a good ship, but she hadn’t been particularly well equipped when I’d bought her at a knock-down price from another trader who’d needed to change his identity and get out of system quickly...
“Sweet Mother of all Tucans!” yelled Furieux, gasping for air as he jolted awake and instantly smacked his pounding head in the darkness. He attempted to raised his hand to rub the pain away but discovered that wherever he was the space was restricted. It felt like a coffin. He closed his eyes and tried to recover his memories though the vision he had just experienced gripped him , refusing to unhook its vivid claws from his mind. His throat was dry. He wanted a drink. Any drink. Even water would do. He licked his lips and concentrated. He listened. The sound of a soft hiss and a slight repetitive tick interspersed with the odd digital bleep reached his ears. An escape pod. He had used one of these before. Why was he in one though? The Orca. Amir Raj and his small army of thugs. Thank the Mother for reactive armour. More memories came flooding back...
Fangz had managed to get a few hours of sleep once he was thrown back into the resting room. He had spent some time thinking of what he was going to do, where he was going to go. The access card would hopefully get him where he needed to go but he had no idea how he would get to where he needed to go.
His plan was to get back to Talyn’s hangar. From there he knew where he was going to get back to his own hangar. All he needed to do was get there. Getting there however was the hard part. From everything he’d seen from his first and last attempt met with no visible way of leaving the area. However with this new access card there was going to be something that he’d missed. Some sort of hidden access hatch or control panel. Some way of getting out.
He opened his eyes and sat upright, he looked around the room listening for any sound of move...