#2.1.02

Date:June 22, 3302

Ending Balance: 86.3m

A light splashed across the wreck in front of me, bringing me out of my reverie. I tensed, anticipating the splash of laser fire hitting the hull & tearing through it, with no shield to protect it.

But the flare of light disappeared as a brilliant flash happened in the distance clear of the wreckage field. The flash of a ship jumping to supercruise. Then came a second flash & my pursuers were gone. I pushed a small amount of power to the sensors & opened the ship’s heat vents. If anyone were left behind, it still shouldn’t resolve into a contact unless they were exceedingly close.

To my relief, the sensors showed nothing but wreckage in the field, the extra free-floating cargo I had left behind presumably scooped or destroyed. But I had succeeded in my task, the Rebel Transmissions secured in the cargo hold.

I brought the rest of the Phantom’s subsystems back to life. The credits I’d spent on that 6A power plant had made all the difference once again, absorbing an enormous amount of the heat generated from silent running. It left us appear as cold as the wrecked ships surrounding us, making us invisible to the ships after us & the transmissions.

When we’d first dropped in, the ship could only identify degraded emissions & a handful of cargo contacts. I’d pushed the Phantom into the debris field, knocking aside hull fragments & what remained of an Eagle. The prize lay in front of me: a private data stash & a cargo canister holding rebel transmissions.

The woman in black at Neumann Camp had regarded me coolly after we landed. Her demeanor made it clear she was used to only dealing with the best. She made no small talk and, to her credit, didn’t scoff when pulling up my Pilot’s Federation license. She nodded to me curtly, then pulled Anderson aside to talk further, leaving me to tend to getting the Phantom fueled & prepped for launch.

Anderson returned shortly & simply said “She’s happy enough. As I said, we’ve got four tasks to get through. They’re going to load up a small delivery for LFT 926, as well as this data cache to deliver to Nuenets. We’ll be on a bit of a time crunch, but nothing insane. Once we’ve delivered those, she’ll pass on the details for the other missions.”

I nodded then gestured to the stairs on the front landing gear. “Feel free to climb aboard, I’m almost done with the flight prep.”

As Anderson climbed into the Python, the woman in black approached me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked briskly. “We normally only accept the Elite.”

“I will not fail. You deliveries will be made & I have no reason to shy away from anything else you have in store for me.” I said simply.

She gave a small nod. “Make sure you watch your comms. My follow-up tasks will be encrypted, Anderson has the decrypt key. Try to keep him, the cargo & yourself in one piece & watch your six. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I said & she left me to the final checklist. I finished as quickly & thoroughly as I could, then climbed aboard, mulling over her words.

The deliveries went quickly & with much incident, other than an attempted interdiction by a lowly pirate whom we left rolling & pitching in normal space. Once both deliveries had been confirmed, the comms lit up with a message. As expected, it was encrypted, but like nothing I had ever seen before. “Not even the military takes the communiques this seriously,” I thought to myself as Anderson started the decryption.

His face drew tight as he read our next tasks aloud. “The good news is that we’re doing a bit of... salvage... work. Two things to pick up back in Nuenets, near C 4. The bad news is, we’re not the only ones after it. And that’s the easy job.”

I immediately started the launch procedure & as we lifted off the pad, I asked “And the hard job?”

“There’s a hostage in Arro Naga, low credit ransom but important to the Dark Wheel. Intelligence says it’s been dropped at an isolated spot on one of the planets. We have a rough location & initial data indicates the capsule is not alone, with some armed sentry drones guarding it.” Anderson finished quietly as we crossed the fields in the mailslot.

I plotted a course for Nuenets C 4, then eyed the scanner as we pulled away from the station. A Viper Mk IV & Vulture flew in a loose formation several kilometers back but kept pace with us. When I changed course, they’d slowly drift into line with it.

I snapped up the nav computer & redirected us to Akandi. As soon as the jump was plotted, I pulled hard on the stick & hit boost, snapping us around almost 180 degrees & started the jump.

“What are you doing?” Anderson looked confused.

“We’ve got company, Viper & Vulture, 7 o’clock 4.5 km & closing.” I grimaced as we left the safety of the stations’s no-fire, knowing the two ships could open fire if they wanted to. “I’m doing multiple hops, in hopes of making it hard to follow our wakes.” Anderson nodded quietly as the computer gave the jump countdown & we were gone.

With each jump, there was a longer & longer lag time before the two contacts would appear behind me. After the third jump, I moved to the far side of the star & we headed to Nuenets. Neither ship appeared on the scanner before we jumped. I wanted to believe we’d lost them, but Anderson’s face told a very different story.

“What’s the plan?” Anderson asked as the dazzling colors & lights of witchspace flashed around  the ship.

“I’m just trying to get a lead on them; give us a chance to get to the salvage before they can get to us.” I said, hoping there was more confidence in my voice than in my head.

We arrived in Nuenets & I pushed the Phantom to full throttle. Beyond several thousand light-years, ship scanners lose the ability to neatly identify contacts. With any luck, we’d blend in with the local system traffic when our pursuers arrived.

Finding the salvage was not difficult & we exited supercruise into normal space. Before us was a large field of debris. It was clear a medium sized battle had taken place her not long before. I zeroed in on the cargo, scooping it as quickly as possible without damaging it. I turned the Phantom toward the private data cache & activated the scanners, then glanced at the chrono.

“We’re running out of time. I’d guess less than 2 minutes before they arrive. Damn, I knew I should’ve jumped once or twice more.” I pounded my chair in frustration. “It’s not enough time to get clear & jump.”

Anderson sat quietly, regarding me & obviously doing some thinking himself. Abandoning the data cache wasn’t an option, not unless he was done piloting forever, something I was sure the Dark Wheel would make happen.

An idea came to me & as the scanner finished downloading the data, I began snapping off subsystems as quickly as I could. The temperature in the Python began to plummet & for good measure, I activated a heat sink before closing all the ship’s heat vents. In silent running, the Phantom would live up to her name, becoming nothing more than a wisp on scanners.

As the heat sink cooled to the temperature of the surrounding metal, two ships flashed into existence at the edge of the field. Without scanners, I couldn’t ID them, but I didn’t need the ship’s computer to tell me it was the Viper & the Vulture. Despite the rapidly closing distance, I could see their outlines change, which could only mean they’d activated their hardpoints, ready for a fight.

The pair began to erratically sweep the field. Clearly, searching in wrecks was not their thing, as any good salvager or rescuer knows to systematically sweep the field. But all it would take was one ship’s headlight lighting up the only whole ship in the field & we’d be done for. I had to switch off everything, including the life-preserving shields, in order to run cool enough.

Date: June 22, 3302

Ending Balance: 86.3m

I shivered in the pilot’s seat, my body instinctively trying to keep itself warm against the chill in the cockpit. Ice froze to the Python’s canopy, leaving a brilliant clear fractal along the glass. I looked out over the darkened console & out into the depths of space, the holo of the chrono the only light in my otherwise dark ship. Ahead lay a large field of ship debris, occasionally flaring in the search lights of my pursuers.

Less than 18 hours previous, I was in a bar aboard Jameson Memorial & had just finished a day of aimless couriering. I’d hauled a large set of Evacuation Shelters to a nearby planet then several small data caches. Despite the enormous advances in computing & data transmission over the centuries, physical delivery was still sometimes the fastest (and untraceable) approach.

The bar was packed, with the latest pop hits blaring over the speakers. I thought about leaving, but it was one of the rare places in space that was able to make a Lavian Brandy Old Fashioned & I already had a tab. I grabbed my drink then search for a place to sit.

On the left side of the tastefully dimmed interior, toward the back, sat a lone commander staring intently at a holo. I wandered over to him, cleared my throat & asked if I could sit.

He startled & deactivated the holo, but not before I caught a glimpse of a jet black Cobra Mk III on it. “Aloha!” he greeted me in an old Earth-er tongue, “Please, be my guest.”.

“Thanks, your next one is on me.” I replied as I slid in in the low gravity & collapsed into the seat. “I’m Branch. And you are?”

“Call me Anderson,” he answered, then paused. He glanced at me with narrow eyes, tensed and asked in a low voice “This isn’t about the 3 missing Imperial slaves, is it? I assure you I have no...”

I laughed & held up two empty hands before grabbing my escaping drink. “I’m no-one’s hitman today & I have no clue what you’re talking about, though it already sounds like an intriguing story.” I flashed my Pilot’s Federation license & empty transaction list as proof.

He grinned & relaxed once more. “Let’s just say I found a new & better paying gig for those ladies aboard my Orca. The tourists love them & it’s a hell of a lot better than the asshole they were headed to. I’m sure you know how cargo can sometimes go missing & I paid him for the damages.”

“But you can never be to sure about old debts..” he trailed off & glanced once more at his tablet.

We sat in silence for a few moments in pregnant silence, sipping drinks & watching the people. Young couples moving lightly together to the beat, you standard fistfight brewing off to the other side of the room. When I could contain my curiosity no more, I broke the silence.

“You running from that black Cobra?” I asked, gesturing with my drink hand toward the tablet.

He blanched slightly, then regained his composure. “If we are going to speak of the Sorrow’s Mistress, I’ll need both your silence as well as taking you up on that drink.”

Once the waitress had dropped of his refill, Anderson leaned in, tapped his holo-tablet & the booth’s noise-suppression field activated. Immediately, the roar of the bar crowd faded to a murmur. He sat back, took a swig then turned his gaze on me seriously. “Have you ever heard of The Dark Wheel?” he asked gravely.

I shook my head. “Is that a ship?” I asked.

“If it were a ship & crew, they’d be much easier to escape from. No, the Dark Wheel is an organization of select Elite-ranked pilots. They deliberately keep a low profile and as far as I know, are completely apolitical. They are no one’s corporate hound. Their agenda is their own.” He paused, took another swig & continued.

“They have information & resources, things no other group has. They accept no contracts & are notoriously picky about who they will accept into their ranks. the ship you saw is, well, was mine until two days ago when I failed the task they’d given me.”

“You’re a member of the Dark Wheel?” I asked with eyebrows raised.

He shot me an odd look, then darted his eyes about the room. “Please be more careful, friend. Though the sound-proofing is active, lips can still be read.”

I started to apologize, but he waved me off. “Do not worry, I believe we are safe & my failure was quite public, if not entirely my fault. While on a smuggling run in Sorrow’s Mistress into Hutton Orbital, the cargo hatch’s safeties failed, causing the contents to spill less than 2km from the station’s landing pad.” He grinned sadly, “It’s not every day you splatter highly illegal goods across the entire width of a station in full view of the authorities.”

I chuckled & he brightened slightly before continuing.

“Anyhow, my... handlers... were not as amused as you or I. The authorities were given a... financial reason to forget what had happened, so no trouble came of that. I, however, am not so lucky. I’ve been grounded for the time being & getting the Mistress back depends on finding someone else, an unknown, to handle the next shipment.”

“If I fail, this may be my last hurrah.” He grimaced into his glass & downed the rest of it. The sad look was only there a moment longer, then his cheerful mask sprang up in its place. “But enough of my complaints, friend. I have said too much & bored you to tears.”

“No, not as much as you think.” I replied, a notion of a plan entering my head. “You said there’s another shipment to be made, yes? And I’d hate for those fine ladies aboard the Fine Country to be out of a job.” I smiled, then issued a simple “I’m in.”

Anderson sat up at this & looked at me with seemingly fresh eyes, “I don’t think I can ask or accept that of you, Branch. I hardly know you & your license said ‘Dangerous’, not ‘Elite’. I can guarantee my handlers would not approve...”

“My license doesn’t say ‘Duke’ or ‘Rear Admiral’ either, yet here I am. I’ve taken Elite ranked jobs, faced down Elite Anacondas & Fer-de-Lances & pushed myself & my ships far out of the Orion arm. I’m between jobs & relatively speaking, I’m a nobody. But I’m always willing to help another commander.” I grinned.

He sat back, deep in thought. He picked up his tablet, then glanced to me & said, “I need to inspect your ship, run some background checks & seek approval on this. If this works, next round & every round after are on me.”

An hour & several drinks later, we sat on the bridge of the Phantom berthed in dock, laughing over yet another terrible joke. The computer made a pinging noise & projected a holo of the final system diagnostic completed with greens across the board. Anderson sat back in the previously unused copilot seat & stared at me, rubbing his chin.

“My... handler... gave her approval, but insists on meeting you first. It also won’t be one job, but three relatively simple tasks as well. These are dangerous people, Branch. Once their hooks are in you, they will never let go.” He leaned in, all humor drained away. “Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can find another or... well, plead for my...”

“I’m sure,” I cut him off. “I’ve been in need of some direction lately anyhow. And as a fellow Orca owner, how can I say ‘no’?”

With a grin, a holo of the ASV Oasis lit up on the dash. The grin that broke across Anderson’s face was wide & relieved.

“Then there is only one final thing. We must leave immediately, I just need about 30 minutes to collect my gear.”

I must have tensed when he said this, as he turned with an apologetic look. “Again, handler’s orders. I’m to quietly ride along & observe, to ensure all things go to plan. Is this a problem?”

“No problem, just never had any company before.” I said. “I’ll have the Phantom ready to go by the time you return.”

He nodded, then headed for the door. I turned back to the console, flicked the power-up sequence & requested clearance to leave within the hour. I rubbed the dash & said “Wake up, girl, it’s time to earn our dues.”

45 minutes later, I eased the Phantom out of the mailslot & selected “Neumann Camp” within the nav computer. Anderson nodded to me and, when we cleared the station, we began the countdown to supercruise.

Date: June 21, 3302

Ending Balance: 85.6M

Where to begin? Everything has changed & nothing has changed. I pursued the efforts with the Unknown Artifact & the independent science group The Canonn for several months. The UAs (as we eventually found many as a collective) began to orient themselves towards Merope in the Pleiades (as well as crudely scanning/transmitting outlines of ships). Toward the end of the year, I burnt out on the scientific work, just as new things colloquially called “Barnacles” were found in Merope.

Since then, I have increased my both Pilot’s Federation ranks all around (Dangerous in combat, Tycoon in trade, Ranger in exploration) as well as my ranks within both the Imperial & Federal Navies (Duke & Rear Admiral respectively). Whether the superpowers are aware of my duplicitous nature is unknown, but it has granted me access to the very largest & exclusive ships, the Imperial Cutter & Federal Corvette. Both are wonderful machines & are residing safely at home in Jameson Memorial.

In search of greater thrills, I’ve been a participant in an underground series of races with a group that refer to themselves as the “Elite Racers”. And there’s no denying that pushing ultra-lightweight Eagles around stations & canyons alike isn’t thrilling.

I’ve been a force for peace, supplying badly needed supplies & credits to stations/ports in need. And I’ve been a force for power & war, moving Imperial slaves (supposedly more of an indenture, but I have yet to see anyone ask the slaves themselves this) & striking a series of planetary targets with lethal force.

Now I find myself at a crossroads once again. I have a stable of ships I have enjoyed, I have many millions of credits, I have achieved stellar heights within the science & major factions. Yet, I find the emptiness forewarned by those who have truly done great things before, beyond the pale of what I have done.

I find myself back in my beloved Python, the Phantom. I had left her in dry dock for months, playing with other toys. But when I climbed the steps & stepped back inside her hull, it was as though I never left & many old, good feelings came rushing back. I ran my hand along the wood grain of her dash, settled into that familiar seat & we glided out of Jameson Memorial’s mailslot as though nothing had changed.

But rather than start jumping, we headed further out within the Shinrarta Dezhra system. On a tip from another commander at the bar, we headed to Neumann Camp on the far side of one of the distant ice balls.

Upon landing at the surface port, I was greeted by a rather stern woman in black. While she wouldn’t give me her name, she said she had some jobs available for commanders willing to take a few risks. “Succeed,” she said, “and you might curry the favor of... The Dark Wheel.”