Sally was an enterprising businessman who left the depths of Omicrons, a Zoner, to start his own business and make a fortune from the riches of this unexplored part of space. But there was one catch: his business was illegal. It wasn't a business at all. He was a smuggler.
He left Omicrons and returned to it, collecting active artifacts, all sorts of trinkets, in short... Everything that might displease the power structures, the Core, the Order, and the enemies of the Nomads. First, he made acquaintances with some of the Zoners who were engaged in the same activity. Then the corsairs approached him. He agreed to help Imperio, paying them a portion of his profits in exchange for them leaving him alone. The net profit was enough to live comfortably. He didn't care what anyone thought of his activities: even after 35 years, all these Daam-K'Vosh trinkets were still hugely popular on the black market. Credits, as people know, don't smell.
...
He was mainly involved in petty smuggling. Who cares about a Zoner freighter that not only has no influence, but is also fast enough to escape pursuit? Sally himself did not want to expose himself to unnecessary risk: he preferred to work alone, and some large smuggling ships were often subject to internal strife and changed their commanders like gloves. After all, everyone needs to make a profit in this sector: when Blackout happened, various rumors spread that something terrible was about to happen. Whatever it was, you obviously wouldn't want to face it in some Freeport, right? It's much more pleasant to meet the end of the world on the surface of Curacao, sipping a cocktail surrounded by beautiful girls.
Therefore, Sally tried to build up a good fortune with the resources he had, his approach to smuggling, and his network of routes, which expanded every day. New places to visit and new goods to smuggle appeared. In addition to artifacts, he periodically began to transport cardamine, and once even organs. He never transported people, no matter how high the profit: it was too risky to fall into the clutches of those who wanted to free the captives. But, as far as he had heard, some managed to complete the voyage and become fabulously wealthy.
Credits, as people know, don't smell.
At some point, he obtained Gallia citizenship. Unione Corse helped him. Now he didn't have to worry about Interspace monitoring his income and asking inappropriate questions at meetings. He began to use Trade Lanes and Jump Gates more and more often when his hold was empty. This greatly accelerated his movement around the sector and tripled his profits. Yes, taxes still had to be paid, but with his credit reserve, he didn't have to worry about that. Unione Corse also agreed to help him with his transportation from time to time. Eventually, the Second Gallic War ended, and ordinary citizens of the Union were able to move around Sirius.
And he was an ordinary citizen.
...
Bar at Freeport-11 was as noisy as ever. The station had been hugely popular with space travelers and Omicron residents for 22 years. Sally often visited this place for work-related matters, if it concerned the transportation of something from Omicron that was not related to artifacts. If he needed to work on artifacts, he would fly to Freeport-9 and negotiate with his partners from Imperio. Today's meeting was special: his friend had called him about a day ago, asking him to fly to Freeport-11 urgently. It was about a big score. Someone had appeared who wanted to transport an important cargo through Omicrons to Omegas.
Sally was a little late for the meeting, so he rushed into the bar out of breath. After adjusting his clothes and smoothing his hair with his hand, he approached the table that he and his friend Samuel often shared to discuss important matters. Samuel was not a smuggler, but a liaison. He was an intermediary between the customer and the contractor to ensure privacy. Samuel only called Sally when there was something worth the risk.
"Finally. I thought you weren't coming. Where have you been?"
"Answered the Order's uncomfortable questions." He said. He sat down at a table and ordered a glass of beer. "What this time?"
Samuel moved closer, as if afraid that someone would hear them. It was amusing for Sally to observe how concerned this individual was. He often made such dramatic introductions before handing over an assignment to the person responsible for carrying it out.
"There is a customer who wants a skilled person to transport something to Omega-41. Pick up the goods from here and head to Freeport-5. Someone will meet you there, take the package, and give you the credits."
"What kind of goods? What size? How illegal is it?"
"They showed it to me. It's a steel box measuring 2 by 3 by 2. Measure in meters, of course. The customer noticed we could covered the box with some other suspicious goods, like artifacts, so that no one would pay attention to this thing. Illegality... Well, if it needs to be covered up with artifacts, then I myself am curious what kind of crap it is."
The glass of beer arrived with the waitress. Sally thanked her and took a couple of sips of beer.
"Okay. What about payment?"
"Here's the most interesting part. One and a half million credits."
Sally nearly choked on the words he heard.
"T-ha-t much?!"
"Listen, it looks like we're dealing with something serious. But if you take the risk, we'll both be rich for the rest of our lives. You can't pass this up. Of everyone I know, you're the only one who's right for the job. Deliver the package, get the credits, transfer some of them to me right away, and then lay low."
One and a half million credits. For some box. What the hell is in there? Sally was overcome with curiosity. Sure, he had transported all kinds of exotic goods before, but those were entire shipments, and this was just one item that would clearly fit in his cab. And this item was worth 1.5 million credits.
Sally began to think through a plan while sipping his beer. It wouldn't be that difficult to take the box and put it in the transport ship. Patrols... Patrols... He had freelance informants who often flew past the Order and Core patrols and could share important information about their movements. But he couldn't delay either. Taking into account all the possible rushes, it would cost him 200,000 credits.
Now he need to think about how to pay off those 200,000 credits. He'll slip through Delta and end up in Kappa. And then he'll end up in Teta. And he'll rush to Freeport-9, where the corsairs will be waiting for him. That's it. He has a couple of customers from Imperio who are waiting for him at Freeport-9 to make a couple of deliveries of artifacts deep into the Houses. Well, then he'll be able to cover up the suspicious item with a huge amount of artifacts and divert all attention to this junk. He'll recoup his expenses on informants, and then rush alone to Freeport-5, which is so close to Freeport-9.
And then he will slip into Cologne. And from there to Zurich, where he will meet with his partners from Unione Corse. Planet Marseille will be waiting for him with open arms. Six months of silence won't hurt.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"Okay, I'm in." He placed the empty beer glass on the table. Lost in thought, he hadn't even noticed that he had drunk it all.
"Great, wonderful." Samuel handed him the key to the storage room where the cargo he needed was located. "Then grab the load and get started."
...
Usually, smugglers still have to be able to pick up their cargo when it comes to a place like Freeport-11. They need do that without anyone seeing it. Just in case. The box was the right size, but surprisingly, it wasn't very heavy. It was a simple steel box, protected by a combination lock and even a mechanical lock. When he tapped on it, he heard only a dull sound, indicating that there were soft linings inside to ensure the safety of the cargo.
Sally arrived here early with his cart, placed the box on it, and hurried to his ship. After pushing the cart into the hold, he made sure that the cargo was placed in the corner of the hold. He would surround it with boxes of artifacts when come to Freeport-9. First part of the job was done.
He closed the ship on all sides, settled into his pilot's chair, and began calling his informants. The people he needed quickly got in touch. He had to apologize for such a sudden request for information, as well as for all the risks involved. But the people agreed to help him. The price tag was indeed 200,000 credits. He reported the launch of his freighter to the Freeport-11 dispatcher, received permission to undock, and then found himself in open space. Setting course for the hole in Omicron Kappa, he followed his detour route to enter the hole not from the center of the system, but from its edge. Halfway there, informants reported that patrols were undergoing a changeover and that he should hurry.
No one would be watching the Order or the Core long enough for Sally to have a steady stream of information. But he was lucky: the Order and the Core collided near the hole in Kappa, as often happens, so he initiated the jump process at full speed and disappeared from their scanners. Now it was Kappa. The exit was clear. After checking the sensors and all kinds of detectors, Sally discovered that the tracks of the last Core patrols led back to where he had come from: Delta. It seemed that the situation was not going in the Core's favor, and they had asked the patrol on the other side to come to their aid.
Promising. Sally began moving through the clouds with the highest radiation levels to avoid being detected by sensors. Although this jammed his radars, the clouds were small and allowed him to disappear from the scanners for a minute or two, but they were constantly moving, so the patrols didn't go in there. It was considered a reckless waste of resources. In Kappa, everyone had an equal chance of hiding and being caught.
Too restless. Too exciting.
He hadn't felt this way in a very long time. Of course, damn it, there were 1.5 million credits at stake! He had to hurry. He was already approaching Theta when he suddenly saw the ships' signatures.
...
He was closing in on Freeport-9 as fast as he could. Corsair patrol that met him asked what his ship was doing in Imperio territory, to which he simply sent them his identification codes. The patrol commander's arrogance quickly faded, because if he crossed Sally's path, he would not live to see tomorrow. His freighter made the jump before the patrol could do anything about it.
As he approached Freeport-9, he sent a message to the only customer currently on board the station. He told him to send him the details of the operation right away and to start preparing the artifacts for loading. Since they had been working together for a long time, the customer immediately understood Sally's hint and sent him the details. As soon as Sally's freighter landed, the artifacts were already standing right on the platform. The platforms began delivering the goods literally a minute after the hold opened.
One of his client's assistants looked up at Sally's cabin from below and waved him over, inviting him to come out. Sally signaled that he needed to hurry and asked him to give him a signal when it was safe to close the hold. Macho nodded. He climbed higher, watching from below as the artifacts were loaded and the other corsairs stood nearby as cover. As soon as everything was finished, he signaled with his hand for Sally to close the hold and take off. The second part of the plan was ready. He immediately headed for Omega-41, to Freeport-5.
Hurry up!
...
The landing was more than successful. There were more Hessians and Corsairs in Omega-41 than anyone else. He didn't need to worry about the Order and the Core. He got out of the ship and lit a cigarette, nervously looking around. Suddenly, he saw a figure of medium height and build walking quickly toward him. He was about to grab his gun to defend himself, but the stranger understood his intentions, waved his hand in greeting, and shouted:
"Sally Watkins?"
"Yes, it's me!"
"I am the customer! Let me come to you and pick up the goods, as we agreed!"
Sally raised his head, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked at the stranger again and beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. The man was no longer walking so quickly. When the stranger was close to him, they shook hands. Sally noticed that this man was from somewhere in the Rheinland, judging by his appearance. Was it really the MND?
"Where is the package?"
"In the hold." Sally calmly finished his cigarette. Throwing it aside, he continued. "Shall we go?"
After dragging away all the boxes of artifacts, Sally discovered that the order was still there. In the same corner where he had left it. Now all that remained was to collect his payment and get out of there. The stranger approached the box, entered the correct password, took out a key, and opened the mechanical lock. Opening the box just enough so that Sally couldn't see what was inside, he made sure that the goods were intact and undamaged, then closed it again.
"Everything's fine. Payment... Yes, of course." The stranger pressed a few buttons, and Sally found that 1.5 million credits had been deposited into his account.
...
The meeting was very successful. After saying goodbye to the stranger, Sally noticed how wet he was with sweat. He quickly climbed into the cockpit of his ship and rushed to fulfill the order for the artifacts. After delivering them to their destination, he headed where he had planned. To Gallia. Unione Corse met him in Zurich and made sure he arrived in Marseille. For a reasonable fee, of course.
He took the best room available, sat down on the bed, and realized that everything that had happened over the last three days was like a dream. Too hazy, too fast, too intense. He checked his watch and realized that this had been the fastest smuggling delivery he had ever made. A new record. And 1 million credits. He transferred 500,000 to his informant, lay down on the bed, and fell asleep.
...
Over the next few months, he contemplated returning to the business. But his accumulated wealth and clear conscience legally urged him to live peacefully and take no more risks. Unione Corse invited him to join their ranks to help them with their smuggling operations. He began to earn good money for his intelligence and practical skills, effectively helping the organization make fabulous profits.
It was his dream. A quiet and peaceful life in wealth, without wanting for anything. Work came easily to him, and he could easily cover any of his needs with loans, from food and housing to female affection. Yes, it was wonderful. But the smuggler's intuition told him that things weren't that simple. That package, those loans, the accompanying feelings... It couldn't all be just a coincidence. The first alarming news was that some of his old acquaintances had stopped communicating with him.
Why Omega-41? Was he the only one delivering this cargo? Samuel sent him a message exactly three months after it all ended.
Quote:"People are disappearing, man. According to rumors from my acquaintances, it's all connected to that stuff you were transporting. Run away!"
He left Marseille very quickly, informing his partners in advance that he would no longer be providing services. The cartel somehow allowed him to leave very quickly. They didn't even try to detain him or anything like that. He crossed the whole of Gallia, headed for Taus, checked all the sensors and detectors, double-checked his citizenship to make sure he could still legally travel to Sirius. No, everything was fine. Was he really that lucky?
There was something else going on. He ran as far as he could. He ran to Tau-37, contacted the outcasts, and asked for their help. One of Malta's Dons responded to his call, saying he would send his man to discuss all the details. Time dragged on. Everything was too slow. When the time came for the meeting, Sally was already waiting for the man at the Freeport-10 bar, ready to do anything to stay alive.
Only now did he realize: they would come for him. He was the first link in a chain of smugglers transporting something valuable. The 1.5 million credits were important because Omicrons were dangerous. Surely the others received much less.
While waiting for the right person, a message came to his pager. Samuel was sender.
Quote:"Samuel died. You're next. ;)"
He jumped up from the table and ran to his ship. He felt that there was something behind him, chasing him. He looked back fearfully at every day, at every figure. People watched in amazement as Sally ran past them and rushed to hangar. Having climbed into his ship, he informed the Freeport 10 dispatcher that he was ready to take off immediately. Time stretched into eternity. What did this all mean? Who was hunting him? Had he simply been tricked? Had the MND contractors really decided to eliminate all witnesses this way? Then how did they know about the others who weren't involved with Samuel? Never mind, it didn't matter.
Space, space, space, now! Engines started, he jumped in space and set course to Omicron Alpha. Even if the outcasts catch him, he'll get out of this situation. It's better than death.
...
Six Order ships hovered near the Bermejo Cloud. After sending a message to Sally, Ashton informed the rest of the 342nd Wing. He knew Sally would be heading for Alpha. He simply had nowhere else to go now. After the package was delivered to its intended destination, the Order encountered some problems. When the organization decided to conduct the necessary checks and determine where it all began, they discovered an entire network of smugglers hired to transport some high-value cargo.
And then the standard raids began. Gradually, they managed to track down the informant for the entire Omicron network – Samuel. Ashton personally ensured that he talked. But the mission wasn't over: as long as any of his group's smugglers were alive, these shipments would continue. He inquired with the Unione Corse, through the Gallic Government, about the activities of a certain Sally Watkins, and then discovered he was in Marseille. They quickly forced him to flee, asking the cartel not to disturb him and to force him to make his own mistakes. Overwhelmed by unnecessary questions, Sally abandoned his instinct for caution and was walking into the Order's trap.
"13K signature. Not prominent. Moving very fast."
Light Fighter, probably. Is it him?"
Yes, it's him. 11K now. Shall we begin?"
...
There it is, the cloud. A little further on, there'll be a hole inside, leading to Alpha. Closer, closer... Hopefully everything works out. The Order. Six ships. There's no mistaking that. What are they doing here? They've gone too far... Oh no.
Sally's sensors were flooded with cruise disruptors. He tried to use countermeasures, but it was all in vain: he was caught quickly enough. He had nowhere to run. He knew he wasn't a professional pilot, and the presence of two Onuris ships among the Order's ships made it clear he wouldn't be leaving that easily. Two light fighters blocked his escape route. Sally considered sending a distress signal, but realized he'd be finished off before he could wait for backup.
One of the Onuris approached close enough for the pilots to look at each other across their cockpits. The Onuris pilot gestured for Sally to contact him. With a trembling hand, Sally picked up the radio and turned it on.
"Eject."
Sally checked his suit, reached for the ejection button, closed his eyes and hoped for the best.
No one will hear your screams.
...
Freelancers and other travelers would occasionally see the wreck of the ship in Tau-37 for the next two years.
Quote:The wreck of a ship piloted by Sally Watkins, a notorious smuggler in certain circles. He was last seen on Freeport-10, after which he panicked and headed for Omicron Alpha. Structural analysis shows the ship suffered no weapon damage. The pilot ejected into outer space. No one has heard from him since.
Only then did someone from Freeport-10 figure out how to drag the ship back to the station and claim it for their own. After all, flying a Gallic ship is a luxury.
