A few weeks later, Katashi and Ren began to regret their decision to get an Orca...namely because it was nearly impossible to run the four-person ship properly with only two people. And no matter how many Freeports they visited, no matter how many job boards they posted on, they couldn't find two people they trusted enough to put on the crew.
And it turned out there was a massive surge of BHG capship purchases amongst independents...meaning lots of out-of-work bounty hunters. Their Orca was no longer something special; it was just another gunboat in a sea of BHG gunboats and larger, vying for the big contracts. Truth be told, they were both starting to feel a bit out of their league.
After a long day of hunting Nomads in Omicron Iota, they returned to the desolate Omicron Lost system, where they'd been basing out of lately due to the fact that they generally weren't bothered by hordes of Corsairs there. Ren sighed, watching the blue-green light from the three suns play over her console as they orbited the system's only planet...running out of ideas.
"Kat, this isn't working."
Startled, he looked up from the maintenance panel he'd just opened, looking for all the world like a puppy that'd just been swatted with a newspaper. "Whaddya mean? I always thought we made a pretty good team..."
"No, no...I mean this ship. The two of us, we can't run her, and we can't find more crew. That means we need a smaller ship."
"Like that BHG gunship we used to have?"
"Sorta...but the few of those that're left are falling apart. We need a new ship that's actually somewhat new."
"There really aren't many options, since we have so little money...I guess we could get a bomber. Most of them are two-seaters, and have plenty of firepower."
"But which one? Only ones available to us are the civilian bomber, the BHG bomber, and that Ageira bird. And the Roc and Havoc're single-seaters."
"Okay," Katashi replied as he shut the maintenance panel. "I really, really don't like the chubby fishbowl BHG bomber...but I can live with it. I'll see what I can find when we go back to Freeport 11 for more supplies tomorrow."
-----------------------------------------
Battleship Mississippi, Texas System
The officer finally looked up from his viewscreen. "Yep, your record's clean. Alright, looks like you're in luck: the LSF just phased out the previous Havoc, including some two-seaters. They don't have mine-droppers and can't handle top of the line thrusters and CM, but they're combat-ready. Same handling and forward firepower as the other Havoc Mk2s, just with an extra seat."
"Is there anything for the other person to do in there? I mean, it's not just an observer's seat, is it?"
"No, no...the LSF insisted on using modular cockpit electronics. That means, for a slightly increased price, I can set it up so the pilot gets the front seat, and the nav/comm/copilot gets the back seat. How's that sound?"
Katshi glanced over at Ren; the girl nodded. "It's a deal."
Katashi punched the corresponding button, and the Havoc lurched forward. The pursuing fighters - Hammerheads - launched disruptors in response. Ren triggered the countermeasures and gave directions to Katashi, who jinked wildly to avoid the projectiles. The disruptors fell short, and the Ageira-made bomber soon surged ahead of its thrusting assailants.
Pilot and copilot breathed mirror sighs of relief. A routine patrol through New York had rapidly turned into a nightmare as two flights of Defenders ambushed the bomber, demanding that the occupants turn themselves in. Ren had responded with...colorful vocabulary. Naturally, they didn't take too kindly to that, and the hunt began. From the Colorado gate to Fort Bush, from Pittsburgh to Newark (where the LSF Defenders had been replaced with BHG Hammerheads), and thence to West Point the chase had gone. Questions as to what the bounty was for and who had placed it were met with silence...or Buckshot blasts.
As the Havoc entered the Badlands, the bounty hunters finally began to lose ground...at last, after nearly a quarter-hour of tense pursuit, they lost their quarry amidst the thick clouds and oddly-shaped rocks of the Badlands. Breathless, Katashi cut the engines and turned to his copilot. "Well...what now?"
Ren shook her head. "I don't - I don't know. The only thing I can think of is to seek refuge at Rochester."
Aghast, Katashi replied, "Are you nuts?! The Junkers hate us!"
"Then we offer them something...I don't know. We have things on this ship we could sell them. They might let us land..."
"Or they might wait until we get out of the cockpit before depressurizing the hangar bay."
"You have any better ideas? You said you used to have some friends in the Outcasts, right?"
"And they now hate my guts for being BHG. They won't help us."
"They might...for a sum. Let me do the talking."
".......alright. I don't like it, but then I don't like ANY of our options at this point."
The man that sat across from Katashi and Ren smirked, flicked his eyepatch, and leaned back with his arms crossed. "So, ya ready to cry uncle, eh?"
Katashi shook his head. "It's only temporary. We need our records hacked, because there's some kind of bount-"
The Rogue cut him off with a growl. "Like that'll work. The bounty'll still be posted. No, what you two need is a new ship registry. You'll lose your maps, your guns, everything valuable...but you get a mostly clean slate, assuming you lay low."
"I assume this isn't from the kindness in your heart."
"Heh. Not quite. Normally I'd do it for a couple mil, but after the trouble you've caused my pals and I...well, the price went up."
"How much?"
He swirled his drink, smiling at it as though it'd just told him a funny joke. "Your ship and everything on it. I'll give ye a Bloodhound or somethin'. You won't be BHG anymore...no, now you know what it's like to be hunted, and that's how it's gonna stay. You're gonna be Rogue, Hacker, Outcast, Junker, something. If you still like explorin', I'd say Junker's the way to go. But you'll have to start all over again, and I don't want no whining."
Katashi ran a hand over his face. "God...fine. Take it. Take the damn thing...I can't believe this is happening..."
"Believe it, kid. Pick a new name for your ship's registry entry and it's a done deal."
Ren put a hand on Katashi's shoulder. "It's not so bad, being a Junker...I can tell you from experience."
With the rogue now gone, Ren was free to elaborate. "Yeah, I was a Junker...didn't you ever wonder why I was so mechanically handy? I was a scavenger, a smuggler, and a pirate. Was pretty good, too..."
"Why not Hogosha?" Katashi interjected.
Ren snorted, and waved her hand dismissively. "Those Samura lapdogs? Pffft. No offense."
"Believe me, none taken," Kat assured her.
"Anyway - no, I wanted freedom, and the Junkers had it. So I hitched a ride to Yanagi and signed up with a Junker freighter as a mechanic, saved up some money, bought a CSV of my own, and got busy. They took me in pretty readily - my uncle's been a junker all his life. I didn't have a CD, but it was pretty easy to hold up Rhinos and those ugly little Renzu things in the Silverton field."
The former bounty hunter nodded. It's not hard to see her as a pirate, I guess. "So how'd you get caught?"
"Caught? Ha! Never got caught. I aimed to steal your gunship, and left my CSV behind on California Minor. But, well, that didn't quite work out according to plan."
"Yeah...at some point, though, it got less like that. Am I just that likable?" The incorrigible Katashi grinned, and rather hoped she didn't smash a ketchup bottle over his head.
Somewhat to his surprise, she just laughed. "You wish! No, it didn't take too long for me to figure out you're sorta a kindred spirit, and you're mechanically hopeless. But, you're also a better pilot than me. So we do pretty well together, and I figured hell, why not?"
"Why not, indeed...well, for the record, I'm damned glad to have you along. I...I'm no pirate. Like you said, I'm a hunter, not a criminal."
"Tsk, tsk. I said you were a hunter, and so you are. Just that now you'll be hunting fat traders, wrecks, and every bounty hunter that thinks they can collect on us."
"And more than that, we'll be hunting the bastard that put a bounty on us in the first place...I'm gonna get some answers, Ren. I want to find out who did this."
"WE are gonna get some answers, Kat. We're in this together. And, like it or not, you're gonna have to learn the tricks of the trade if we're going to survive long enough to do that."
A few hours later, their two-seat CSV was registered and ready to fly. The engine clunked a bit, but it was spaceworthy, and handled well enough. It was almost enjoyable, putting around the debris fields in New York, shooting up Xenos...until a system-wide distress call came in, summoning a defensive fleet to Zone-21 to hold back the incoming Corsair invasion. Katashi jerked the yoke to port, and the CSV wallowed in that general direction, with Ren yelling in protest.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Helping protect-"
"No you're not! We're Junkers now, not the navy! Keep doing what you're doing, and leave them to their thing. We don't want to attract their attention anyway."
Reluctantly, the erstwhile scavenger turned the freighter back towards the waypoint the girl had set, girding himself for a long day of fending off bounty hunters, Xenos, and wannabe heroes. They wound up spending a few weeks ferrying scrap metal to Bornholm Depot in the Omega-15 system. Though it'd been dangerous to get there, it proved to be safe enough in the area of space immediately surrounding the depot. The only departure they made was to the north end of the system to purchase a Turanic freighter to move more scrap...eventually, they had made enough to purchase the iconic Junker VHF, the Collector.
Though it was more cramped for two than even the CSV was, the Collector did have a cargo bay that doubled as an airlock, allowing one of them to exit the craft to extract some of the harder-to-reach valuable bits that several wrecks offered. So the two of them explored much of Sirius in search of undiscovered wrecks, and the absurdly valuable weapons that some of them contained.
They found plenty of wrecks, but virtually all of them had already been looted. Discouraged but undaunted, they packed up and headed for Sigma-13 during its low-traffic hours to seek out the remnants of the 80-year war still concealed in its azure puffs of nebulae. Still nothing...until they encountered a Junker in a pirate transport by the name of Joshua Quentin. He proved to be quite the amicable sort, and let slip the fact that he had a number of prototype weapons in his hold that he had little need or use for.
It was all Katashi and Ren could do to conceal their excitement when the other Junker agreed to give them the guns...in addition to several other valuable pieces of equipment. Better lucky than good, the two of them mused, and they hid their Collector in the scaffolding surrounding a shipyard while they posted their newfound inventory on the Sirius Stock Exchange. It wasn't long before they got an offer from the Coalition Army's armory for the prototype guns and 8 of their adv. debilitators, and an offer from the Hessians for the Supernova and the other 4 adv. debs.
They felt like they were walking on air by the time the deals were concluded, for they suddenly found themselves in possession of more credits than they'd ever seen as bounty hunters: more than fifty million credits, to be precise. The resulting conversation was as predictable as it was short.
"Ren, I think I know what we're going to be doing for the next few weeks."
"Hell yeah! But we need something sturdier to put the stuff in...wouldn't want some greedy passerby to vent our holds and take our guns before we can sell them."
"Right. A gunboat, then...but which one? There is no Junker gunboat."
"Sure there is! It's the one you find abandoned and dead and rebuild for your own use!"
And thus the search began. They found several, but none of them quite suited. This one had too little internal space, that one had internal space but one had to spacewalk to get to it from the bridge & cabins...but fortune smiled on them soon enough when they were flying through the unique "prism minefields" of Frankfurt. They found a shattered M26 Corsair gunboat, likely a relic of the failed Corsair invasion of Rheinland the previous year which the RM had halted in Frankfurt.
It was in sad shape, however. Though it was in one of the few radiation-free pockets of the field, drifting amongst explosive diamond-shaped rocks was not conducive to preserving a ship adrift in space. Ren drew the short straw, and had to suit up in the Collector's cramped hold in preparation for an appraisal of the wreck. She rapped on the hull with her knuckles three times to signal the pilot, and Katashi promptly opened the cargo bay door.
A spacewalk in such a place was dangerous to say the least, but in the past weeks Ren had done it many times. Still, nervous sweat threatened to drip into her eyes as she caressed her suit's controls to navigate into the battered gunboat's rent hull. First stop was the forward section, which had the largest holes and thus was the easiest to enter. It had been the bridge and crew quarters once; but fortunately for Ren's stomach, there were no corpses left for her to discover. Probably got sucked out when this thing's hull got breached...thank God.
What there was, was plenty of space for the two of them to live and work. In her head, she was already dividing up the forward section. This would be her quarters, that could be his, there were the guest quarters, that was the galley, that would make a nice workroom...
"Ren, you okay in there?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, is all...foreward section looks okay. The electronics and astrogation gear is damaged, but not too badly. We can fix it up pretty easy. No dead bodies, either, so that's a bit less cleanup if we decide to use this boat."
"Weapons systems?"
"One thing at a time. Point is, though it's pretty bare - I guess everything got sucked out when the hull buckled - it's pretty intact. Moving on to the central cargo hold." She floated down the short corridor from the bridge to the central cargo section, and was pleased when the hatch actually swung open when she pulled at it. There was a large gash in the port bulkhead, large enough to explain the hold's emptiness. But as she shined her suit's headlamp through the nebulous murk, she concluded that the hold was structurally sound in spite of the gash. "Hold needs some patching, but it's good. Now for the real test...the engineering section."
After passing through the cavernous hold, the cramped engineering space came as an unpleasant surprise...as did the powerplant's condition. "Crap - the reactor's shot, Kat. Beyond repair...we'll have to get a whole new one, and it won't be cheap."
"But other than that?"
Ren sighed, and floated back into the cargo hold. "Other than that, it looks like this is our best find yet. I vote we tow it to Kreuzberg or Yanagi and fix 'er up."
"You sure? Why not just keep it here, and ferry supplies and parts to do the repairs in secret?"
"Because somebody might notice the activity, follow us, and find the wreck. You wanna risk that? This thing is untouched, man. When I did the external inspection, it looks like three of the turrets might even still work. How many hulks have we found that we could say that about?"
Silence.
"That's what I thought. Meet me at the bow, and we'll figure out how to set up some kind of towline and where to affix auxiliary thrusters."
In the cockpit of the Collector, Katashi groaned. He hated the aux thrusters - they were notoriously unreliable and finicky, and moreover, costly to refuel after each use. But in some situations, they were the only option. Like this one - even with a tow setup, one of them would have to stay aboard the gunboat during the tow and use the auxiliary thrusters (each of which had their own fuel and control systems) to ensure the thing didn't swing around and blow up on one of the many oddly-shaped mines in the cloud. "Alright...I hope this is worth it."
Eight Months Ago
An ancient Corsair gunboat, long since repurposed as a Junker salvage vessel, was fighting in a desperate bid for survival against numerous foes. Fleeing, really. She'd been two turrets short to begin with - having been found by the two fugitives as a wreck, they'd never quite been able to get her reactor up to full, and even if they had, they couldn't afford or scavenge a full gunboat fire-control suite - and the running battle had reduced the original six to a paltry three...and two of those were badly damaged. Shields were down. The cruise disruptor launcher had long since been blown off. Ghostly trails of atmosphere streamed freely from several scorched holes in the vessel's flanks, but like a bleeding whale in a sea of sharks, she sped onward.
Not that the asteroids helped. At all. Tau-23 was chock full of them, and while Katashi was a superb pilot, the wounded gunboat's reaction thrusters were operating at well below half their intended power. Simply not running into the giant rocks took all of the pilot's concentration, and Ren was rather preoccupied with shooting the Red Raven's remaining guns at their pursuers, to little effect. All she could do to the capital ships was try to keep their shields down-ish to force them to take extra care in the rocks...and she could scarcely do anything at all to the bombers. At least the rocks help shield us from their torps, or we'd be dead already, she thought to herself.
"How the hell'd they find us, anyway?" her pilot demanded, as much to himself as to her. "We didn't bother anybody, just puttered around the border systems for over a year, then we enter house space and BAM!"
"You know Liberty and Bretonia've always been cozy...guess they share wanted lists." They'd both been suited up when the battle began, and it turned out to be fortunate, as leaking atmosphere had rendered the interior uninhabitable several minutes ago. It also allowed them to talk to each other in spite of being in different parts of the ship.
"But siccing the BHG on us? I me-THERE!" Katashi exclaimed as he beheld what he believed to be their salvation. Engine kill, turn, and thrust...the battered hulk groaned in protest at the maneuver, but held, and the thruster lasted just long enough to reach the jump hole he'd spotted off to one side. He reactivated the cruise engines the very second the jump was complete, amazed that they worked at all.
Except, they didn't.
Scowling, he jabbed the button again, and the four huge engines roared to life...sort of. One was out, one was damaged, and only two were providing full thrust. They'd been fine until he cut power for the turn to make the jump - a jump he prayed the bounty hunters would be unable to make on their first pass. As the minutes passed, it became apparent they hadn't. A lone bomber popped out, but waited on its comrades before resuming pursuit. By then, the barely-operable gunboat was well out of sensor range.
Ren floated back onto the bridge - the shipboard gravity having gone the way of the dodo two systems ago - and together with her pilot, surveyed their damaged nav instruments. "Orkney?!"
He groaned. "Great. A dead-end system..."
"But it has a minefield."
"Feeling suicidal, Ren?"
"No. We'll cut off some damaged hull plating and make a sharp turn before we reach the mines. Our momentum will carry them into the field and explode...we'll fly to one of the planets or something, cut power, and wait until they give us up for dead."
"Thought you weren't feeling suicidal."
"Got any better ideas?"
"..."
"That's what I thought."
There was plenty to keep the pair busy on the long flight to the minefield. Katashi cut loose a few large pieces of hull that were about to come off anyway, securing them to the ship's damaged frame with tethers that would snap under the strain when they turned. Ren busied herself trying to restore their shield generator...while they were busy, the system-wide communication channel barked at them in the voice of the BHG cruiser commander.
"Attention Red Raven, as you may or may not be aware, there is absolutely no way out of this system. It's Orkney - a dead end. Your end. Surrender yourselves peacably, and I just might forget about the fighters and gunship you blew up in your escape, in addition to your other crimes, and let you live. Don't, and we'll hunt you down and kill you. Unless you prefer to simply keep cruising out of the system and let the cold void claim you once your life-support runs out. Whatever, we collect either way."
* * * * *
They were approaching the minefield - having never responded to the hunter's demands - when a hail came to them over a local channel, in a strange accent. "Bonsoir! Unless I miss my guess, it seems you two need something that I will be happy to provide, should you agree to my demands. Which are, as I am, reasonable."
Katashi and Ren exchanged glances, and the former keyed the local comm. "Not that we're in much a position to refuse, but...what demands? And who are you? Our sensors aren't in top shape at the moment." Actually, they were completely out. Ren had been firing her turrets using visual cues only.
"Information. I will help you two fake a convincing death, and in return, you will come with me to my base. I am very curious about the state of Sirius - we, ah, don't get out much - and while I know a pair of fugitives might not be the best source of information, I have my own reasons for avoiding contact with your, ah...friends with the guns. So you will don spacesuits if you haven't already, set your ship to collide with the mines, and disembark. I will tractor you in and take you to a safe place." In silent response to their other inquiry, he strafed his fighter around to flank them. It was a strange little thing, a gull-winged brown ship reminiscent of some of old Earth's atmospheric designs. Three engines mounted on the tail section emitted a steady amber flare as he cruised alongside, awaiting their response.
"Are you saying we'll be prisoners?"
"Of course not! You will be honored guests. But, it may be in your best interests to stay awhile, lest your enemies catch wind of the deception by your resurfacing. Choose quickly! We must do this before they come in range."
This time, Ren answered. "We'll do it."
Aboard the light fighter, a man with a peppered beard smiled. "Tres bon! I will see you soon."
After a rather long and bumpy ride in the heavy fighter's cargo hold, Katashi and Ren were all too happy to see sunlight once more. The ships in the sky were different than what they were used to, of course, but other than that the city their rescuer had landed in could've been that of any major house in Sirius.
Holding his helmet under one arm, the bearded pilot grinned hugely and made an expansive gesture with his other arm. "Welcome to Gallia! My name is Jacques Aguirre, and I am a fighter pilot and scout for the Council. Come! The wine in the bar is peerless, and we have stories to share." Neither of the Junkers had heard of Gallia or the Council - except the Corsair Council of Elders on Crete - but wine was a familiar word.
* * * * *
Several hours of talking and a bottle of fine Gallian wine later, Katashi asked, "What happens now?"
"Well," Jacques folded his hands and leaned forward. "The information you gave me is interesting. We knew about the Bretonia-Kusari war, but not that Liberty and Rheinland were on the brink of war as well. While we would certainly like more information about house politics, one can hardly expect borderworld pilots to know much of such things. So, you are free to go."
Katashi blinked. "Just like that?"
"Oui. Of course, you might need a ship...I am afraid I cannot simply give one to you, but I can provide lodging while you do odd jobs in-system until you can afford a ship of some kind."
"We appreciate it. One thing that still confuses me is that the Junkers were already here...and we didn't know about it."
The Gallic pilot grinned again. "We know how to keep our secrets, yes? But the time for secrets is over. It is time Sirius knew of us, and we of them."
"Which is the whole purpose of the Council."
"And to overthrow the corrupt crown." Jacques shrugged. "It is not the first time in our nation's history such drastic measures have been required. And our revolution, like the one before it, will eventually become drunk with power and corrupt, and need to be overthrown as well." The grin returned. "But not while I am alive!"
"Well...been a pleasure, Jacques. We lost our ship, but we have our lives, and with any luck they think us dead."
"The pleasure is mine, mes amis." He shook both of their hands - though as usual in face-to-face encounters, Ren had been almost totally silent - and handed Katashi a card. "Go to that address, and give the card to the person at the counter. They will give you a small room for a few months while you find work. Farewell!"
Between Ren fixing things and Katashi flying short-haul atmospheric freight runs, they had saved up enough for a barely-operational CSV in just over a week. Over the course of the next few months, they did some small-time trade with the Council's allies, saving enough money to upgrade their CSV to the point that it stood a chance at surviving the gauntlet of Gallic Royal Navy warships between them and Orkney.
* * * * *
Present Day
Nearly eight months after their arrival in Gallia, they were finally ready. With Ren's itchy trigger finger on the CM launcher and her watchful eyes on the scanners, Katashi guided the little freighter past the Gallic Navy patrols and bases, stopping at the occasional Council base to resupply. They continued in this manner all the way to Orkney, and - after a harrowing trip through the minefield - through the Taus. Nobody came to meet them or kill them.
Whilst seeking out the Edinburgh jump hole in Tau-31 - and dodging more mines - a couple of derelict Kusari fighters came up on their scanners. In silent agreement, they investigated...netting a few top-of-the-line neutron guns, armor plating upgrades, and an experimental weapon with "JADE" etched on the heat sink. Things are looking up! they both thought to themselves, as the trip into Edinburgh continued without a hitch.
It didn't take them long to locate a Gaian fighter patrol near the ice cloud Islay Base was rumored to be in. Hailing them, Katashi spoke on the private comm channel. "'Scuse me, but would you Gaians happen to know a nice place nearby for a pair of Junkers to hole up for the night?"
The trio of Hawk fighters altered their patrol path until they were close enough to scan the CSV before replying. "Roger that - form on us, we'll guide you through." Though Islay was a relatively small base, and Gaian hospitality didn't quite match Gallic, they had a nice evening having pleasant conversation with a young Gaian pilot before heading off to the bunks they'd been assigned. Everything was going fine...until they woke up.
* * * * *
"Time to get up, amigo...that's it. Open your eyes."
Katashi did so, and found that he was now lying on the floor, on his back. Standing over him was a heavily scarred man wearing the uniform of a Corsair pilot, with a holstered pistol. He also found that he could barely move anything but his eyes...he could barely see out of the corner of his eye another Corsair dragging Ren out of bed, and dropping her next to him before leaving the two drugged pilots alone with the scarred man. With monumental effort, he managed to roll his head just enough to see that her eyes were open and moving. Poison. That Gaian poisoned us...why?
"I suppose you don't remember me, do you?" The scarred Corsair gave a tight-lipped smile. "No, of course not. But I remember you. You shot down my Titan, and tractored my pod onboard rather than letting me be rescued by my squadron mates. And you took me to Alaska!"
His tight grin had twisted into a very, very ugly snarl. "Do either of you have any idea what they DO to Corsairs in Fairbanks? Do you?!" He gave Ren a vicious kick in the side, all the while watching Katashi's eyes. He seemed to like what he saw there...the smile that spread across his face was entirely lacking in humor. "The same thing they do to your kind on Crete." He ran his fingers across the scars on his face. "Just for starters."
The unnamed man's face fell again. "You destroyed my fighter, and humiliated me by taking me to a prison like a common criminal instead of the warrior I am! And not only did you do the same to many of my comrades, you had the gall to BRAG about it in your journal! Yes, I've read it. Everything you put in there is now known to me. All the BHG bases you visited, operational patterns you recorded, the locations of several concentrations of my other enemies...and the experimental weapon in your hold. I will mount it on my Praetorian, I think."
He took another step, standing directly over the pair, but still focusing on Katashi. "It was me, by the way. I posted the bounty on your head that sent half the BHG and a few Navy pilots scrambling after your hide...now you have a taste of what it's like to be hunted. I honestly didn't think you'd survive...when I found that you two had, I decided it was time to get creative. Information can be had from anyone, for a price...even some of your Gallic "friends" who ventured too far from Orkney." He turned and gestured behind him, and the other Corsair returned to the room with a pair of syringes filled with a thick-looking orange liquid. In turn, he jabbed them into the arms of the two drugged Junkers, who couldn't even cry out in pain...they could only moan.
Their moans tapered off quickly, however, as the new drug took effect. "Feels pretty nice right now, doesn't it?" the scarred man asked. "That's concentrated, top-quality cardamine. Should be more than enough to turn you into addicts without killing you - probably - but just in case, I've filled your ship's air scrubbers with it." He knelt over them, and the humorless smile returned. "Like that? Not like those stupid holodramas where the hero gives the villain a scar to remember him by. No, I just gave you two an addiction to last however long you both live. You won't be welcome in House space anymore. Whatever world you called home, you'll never land there again. Your family, if you still have any, will disown you."
"Oh, and I've spread your names and descriptions among the Corsairs and their allies, so I'd recommend avoiding them. Really, your only options are to try to live completely in your tiny spaceship, beg the Outcasts to let you join them so I can kill you later, or die in space." He stood back up. "I almost forgot to mention, and the docking clamps are damaged now. How clumsy of me. You can probably dock two, three times before they're inoperable. And replaced your weapons with low-power Gaian photon guns, removed most of your H-fuel, and took most of your credits. And your spare parts. That dose of Cardi was strong - you'll probably lose consciousness soon. You will wake up inside your CSV outside of Islay. The Gaians won't let you dock again, and though you could dock on a lawful base, they'd never let you leave."
The still-nameless Corsair took a couple of steps back, smiling again as he drew and raised his pistol. "If you two somehow survive all this, I will be waiting. But I doubt it. I think you will run out of fuel and die slowly, incredibly painfully, simultaneously of starvation, Cardi depravation, and asphyxiation. Oh, and one more thing. Your ladyfriend probably has a broken rib, and you-" he fired the pistol, and Katashi groaned as agony shot up his left leg. "-have just been shot." His smile widened. "And now, lady and gentleman, may you die slowly, may your spirits never rest, and have a good day. I know I am."
As he holstered his pistol and left the room, Katashi looked over at Ren. Silent tears were running from her eyes...he wanted to tell her he was fine, not to worry, but all he could do was make his mouth move enough to moan. He caught sight of movement by the door - looked like that Gaian they'd been speaking with the previous night, but he couldn't be sure - right as he passed out.
Katashi's first thought when he woke up was Hey! I'm alive! His second thought, as the rest of what'd happened ran through his head again, was But for how long? He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then stopped and stared at his hands. Well, at least I'm not paralyzed anymore. Definitely sitting in the cockpit of the CSV, though, definitely in space near...that huge rock must be Islay, and there's definitely an orange tint to the air in here. So it wasn't just a nightmare... He shook his head to clear it, and instantly decided that was a very bad idea. It simply turned his headache into a pounding nuisance.
"Kat!" Ren cried from behind him, and she threw her arms around him - as much as she could in the confines of the CSV cockpit, anyway, which wasn't much. "You stupid jerk, you had me worried!"
"Heh.." He reached back to try and return the hug, but didn't get far. His left leg refused to push against the foot controls so he could reach behind him. Oh, right... A quick check told him it was heavily bandaged, he was probably dosed up on painkillers, and..."What about you? Your...rib?"
"Still bruised and sore, but I'm fine. The Gaians...that Corsair lied to the pilot we'd talked to last night, she said she had no idea what he was planning, and she fell all over herself apologizing. I passed out, too, but she was calling some medics in to treat your leg and my rib when I did. And you...I..." he heard her take a few deep breaths. "First thing's first. We're low on fuel, practically unarmed, and nobody likes us. What're we going to do?"
Even after all this time, the change in her demeanor still surprises me...she's a different person out here with me than the half-crazed, half-terrified creature she is when we're landed. A flashing light on his console demanded his attention. Focus, Katashi, focus. Those painkillers are dulling your senses and making your mind wander. Or is it the Cardi? Oh, damn...Cardi... He started to shake his head again, then remembered it was a bad idea and sighed instead. "What we always do, my dear: improvise." The flashing light was a message notice, and he pressed it.
The holographic recording flashed to life in front of them - it was that same Gaian pilot, and she spoke in a rapid, hushed voice. "I swear I had NO idea he was going to...it's awful! I'm SOO sorry! I - there's not much I can do, but I tried to patch you two up. I couldn't fix your ship, but I can tell you that my old Spatial I used to fly for survey work is moored to one of the weapons platforms. It's been there for better than a year, but it should still be in decent shape. I couldn't fuel up your ship or fix it at all, he came back to make sure I didn't, so that's probably your only hope. She's barely armed, but her airlock is free access - who would steal her so close to the base, right?" She winked. "Good luck to you both, and I'm sorry...be careful out there." She turned her head offscreen, and quickly pressed a button, ending the message.
The two Kusari were silent for a moment, not quite believing what they'd been told. "Ren?"
"Already on it," she replied, turning the CSV's scanners to the nearby weapons platforms. "What th-there it is! Powered down, that's why I didn't see it before. Fly us up to it, and I'll suit up and see if I can't open that airlock for us." It took Katashi three times longer than usual due to the heavy dose of painkillers, but he finally got the CSV's cargo bay lined up with the Spatial's little airlock. Ren had already unbuckled and climbed over her seat to the tiny cargo access hatch behind her and suited up, sealing the hatch behind her. She keyed up her helmet's comm. "Okay, Kat, go ahead and open the cargo bay."
He fumbled for the button, and hit it. The doors creaked more than usual, but opened. After a few tense moments, Ren's excited voice eruped from the console. "I'm in! Not much room in the interior, but it's sure better than the CSV...and none of the major systems seem to be damaged. It's just been sitting here, drawing just enough power from the weapons platform to remain in standby. She let the atmosphere out, too...just as well, it'd probably be unbreathably stale by now anyway. I'm powering up the reactor and life-support systems right now so we can get some air in this thing. Go on and suit up, everything seems fine in here."
He shut the cargo bay and got some air in there so he could go suit up, not realizing how difficult it was likely to be until he unbuckled and tried to crawl over Ren and his seats to the hatch. Oh boy...this is going to be EXTRA fun. All told, it took Katashi no less than ten minutes and not a few grunts of pain in spite of the medications he was on to squeeze into the cargo bay and don his suit. He checked everything five times, not trusting his dulled senses to get the suit right the first time.
Ren was waiting for him in the Spatial's airlock, which was good because Katashi didn't think he could've taken the suit off by himself if his life had depended on it. "Ren...you're gonna have to fly this thing for now. I don't know what's wrong with me..."
"I do," she quipped. "You're hopped up on a huge dose of Cardi, which you've never had before; you got shot in the leg a few hours ago, and even modern medical technology won't heal it that fast; and you're doped up on painkillers. It's a wonder you're still conscious, Kat."
By the time he realized the inference she'd made, they'd already made their way through the small cabin and onto the equally cramped bridge. There were two seats, and just enough space between them to walk. One console was already configured for piloting, but the other was set to control the wide variety of geological survey equipment onboard. I'll change it later. Wait, I was gonna say something. What was it? "You mean, you've had Cardi before?"
"Only a small dose, not enough to get addicted. I was a kid, okay? Had some friends that were into it...they're in the Golden Chrysanthemums now. Hey!" She reached over, and stopped herself from swatting his hands from the console in front of him. Instead, she gently picked them up and put them in his lap. "I've got this, Kat. Just because I've been your gunner and scanner junkie doesn't mean I don't know how to fly, too. Now take it easy, okay?"
The concern in her voice was enough - he kept his hands in his lap. "Where are we going?"
"First thing we need to do is find a way to get more Cardi before we go into withdrawal...considering the Gaians won't let us land - they like pot better, anyway - and the Mollies don't generally use the stuff, Trafalgar is the closest place we might be able to find some."
"Okay." They started their flight in silence. The Gaians didn't try to stop them, and the nameless Corsair was apparently long gone. Before going into cruise, Ren turned the Spatial's light weapons - half the size of the weapons it would ideally mount - on their CSV. About fifteen seconds later, it was nothing but a rapidly expanding cloud of scrap metal. Without waiting for the explosion to settle, she engaged the cruise engines toward the Dublin jump hole.
Considering the violence that'd led them to this point in time, the transit to Trafalgar passed remarkably peacefully. There wasn't any cardi on the Spatial yet and Ren had reset the transponder, so they passed the BAF and BPA patrols with little difficulty. Bounty hunters in the area didn't yet know they needed to look for a Spatial, so there wasn't any hindrence from that quarter, either. Katash slept quiety in the copilot's chair while Ren guided the rust-colored craft to their destination, giving her time in quiet contemplation.
We've come a long way, haven't we? she silently asked her companion's sleeping form. From a couple of kids chasing criminals to this. I know my junker family wouldn't much like you at first - institutional dislike for bounty hunters and all that - but I know you'd grow on them. Just like you've grown on me. Her mind flashed back to their original meeting, and a wry smile briefly spread across her face. And to think, it all started because I was greedy and wanted your ship.
She glanced at the ship's clock, just to see if they were making good time, when another thought struck her. We've been living together for more than two years now! Hard to believe, time's flown by so quickly...and we've been in space probably about half of that. And even in spite of this...what just happened...I wouldn't trade the last two and a half years for any amount of solo scrap collecting, fleet of CSVs, or anything else. Flitting all over known - and unknown! space with a hopelessly idealistic nutjob? Never gets boring, that's for sure. We'll find this baddie, hunt him down, and...and then we'll just go from there. It's what we've always done. One thing at a time.
* * * * *
A few hours later, in Trafalgar's bar
As with most Junker stations, Trafalgar's bar was where most of the real business took place. Informal, not written, yet as binding as any contract. Sure, things moved about in the cargo areas, and numbers were recorded elsewhere, and armaments got loaded in the hangar, but the bar was where the people were. Where pirates, smugglers, and other assorted folk congregated in devotion not to the fermented beverage that flowed so freely from the taps, but to money and information. Except for a few passing travelers like Katashi & Ren, virtually everybody present was there to acquire information or exchange goods for money, or some combination of the three. These transactions went generally unnoticed by the pair, who'd found a quiet table against the wall opposite the windows to discuss their own plans.
Ren had actually left Katashi there for nearly an hour while she saw to the ship's restocking (and replacing those Gaian weapons which the police had somehow not noticed in their scans) and checked on a hunch. She was all smile when she returned, sliding into her seat with an impish grin familiar to the pilot. "What's up?"
"So I checked the bounty boards," she began, "Because of something I remembered from when we were hunters. BHG members can't fulfill unlawful bounty contracts...and apparently, word got out that the bounty on us was posted by a Corsair by proxy. We still have to worry about others...and avoid the BHG, because they'll still want to kill us. But at least now we know they won't be actively hunting us."
"Well, that IS good news. Doesn't solve the problem of how we're gonna go about chasing this guy, though...and how we're gonna make sure we keep cardi on hand."
"Problem solved. I got us a couple of breathers like the Outcasts use on allied stations, and special cardi air scrubbers that infuse the air with it. Not a lot - not enough to be caught on cargo scans - but enough to keep us going for a few weeks by itself. Plenty of time to reach a place where we can get a more concentrated dose - it might help a bit."
"There is another problem, too, though...sort of a quandary we're in, don't you think? The Outcasts want to get all of Sirius addicted. They're a nasty bunch, trying to get as many pirate factions as possible dependent on them while simultaneously getting the houses addicted and dependent on them for survival...so they can bleed them dry. And yet, because now we are addicted, we have a vested interest. If they fall and the cardi fields get burned by Corsairs or whatever, we die, along with many thousands of other addicts."
"Yeah, I know. No cure for the addiction. Also, sounds like the painkillers are wearing off, you're being all rational again."
"Thing is," Katashi continued, "I don't really want to work with them. I don't like them. But the junkers probably wouldn't much like us hunting Corsairs under their flag, none of the smaller pirate groups have the sort of reach we need for our hunt, and nobody else will take us due to our little problem."
"Okay. So we have to become Outcasts."
"That's how I see it. What do you think?"
"...what do you mean? You're the one with the plan."
The pilot leaned forward and lowered his voice. "This is a plan that'll affect our lives. We're already on cardi, but tossing our lot with the Outcasts is a big step towards becoming something we both agreed we didn't want to. I'm not gonna take that step unless I know you're with me, 100%. I won't leave you behind, and I won't push you ahead. If you're not cool with it, we'll find another way. We could become mercs or freelancers. We'd be working alone with our own tiny network of contacts, so it'd be slower and we'd have to be more careful with our more limited resources, but we could do it." He leaned back again, and finished in a more normal tone. "It's your call, Ren."
The gunner's bewilderment was reflected in her voice when she answered. "What's the mystery? I trust your judgement...usually...and when I don't, have I ever hesitated to say so? As different as we are, our minds tend to run parallel - I'd already figured out we'd have to go to the Outcasts to stand a realistic chance of hunting this guy down. Besides, like I told you, I used to hold up Rhinos in my CSV. Have any hacker friends?"
Katashi had to stifle a grin. And that's Ren. 'What's the fuss? There's work to do!' "Yeah. I'm hoping he'll remember us specifically not trying to hunt him down and kill him while we were BHG."
* * * * *
It took no small amount of sweet-talking and bribes with what little money the two had left, but after a few days a lone Dagger finally docked, disgorging a tall, pale, weasely-looking man. His hair was disheveled, and if Ren looked like a caged animal in a crowd, he looked like he'd just been bitten. In the bar, they told him their story - and his reaction was immediate.
"And you took the Spatial? Do you guys WANT to die?! The dinner was a ruse, what makes you think the ship isn't, too? What'd stop him or her from planting a tracking beacon or recording device in all that survey gear? Any hacker worth his code knows the Spatial is one of the easiest ships in Sirius to bug because there's so many ways to hide it! You gotta ditch that ship, and fast."
Ren and Katashi shared a look. "Yeah, and we're okay too, thanks for asking," the latter dryly added.
The hacker sighed, and put his palm to his forehead. "Guys, you're doin' this all wrong. Ditch the ship. Now. Then fly to Orkney, there's an Outcast base there. They'll probably tell ya to do something stupid to earn their trust - do it. They do it to everybody, even their own. Then they'll probably help you, because you're addicts and you wanna kill Corsairs. And Ren's a junker. They like junkers. But you have...to...ditch...the..ship. Get a Kingfisher. Looks like an Outcast fighter, but it isn't. Much cheaper than a Sabre and not as good, but still a decent ship. There's some two-seat long-range versions out there - you can probably snag one at Rochester, they import 'em from Manhattan. Or get a Starblazer from the Hood, I don't care."
"Alright, alright. We get it. Lose the Spatial." Damn. I like the Spatial... "Can you hack our rep so the Outcasts will at least let us land?"
"Yeah, but only 'cuz I like you. And your girlfriend's cute. Don't worry," he put his hands up in mock defense, "Not my type. Here's my contact info and secure comm access. Use it if you need anything tech-related...always wanted to hack a Corsair, but they don't come 'round Liberty much." He put a small memory chip on the table, and pushed it across between the two. "Now, get outta here. You might be safe-ish from the BHG, but not from freelancers, mercs, or Gaians." He nodded his head in farewell, and without waiting for another word, shot to his feet and walked briskly back in the direction of the hangar.
The decision was quickly made to not make the lengthy trip to New York for the Kingfisher, or to the Hood for the Starblazer. Instead, they got yet another CSV on the cheap for the trip, planning to replace it as soon as they reached their destination. Much to their relief, they were allowed to land without incident - unless one were to count the pair of Scimitars "escorting" them in flying a little too close for comfort.
Unsurprisingly, there was somebody there to greet them. A tallish man of indeterminate adult age, he looked like he might disappear if there were more than one or two other people in the room. There was a pistol in his holster, of course, and he wore the black faux-leather jacket with straps across the chest so favored by Outcast men.
"Our mutual friend told me about your little problem," he began without preamble, "And believe me when I say you're not the first. Get your kind up here all the time, got a beef with the 'sairs, tryin' to prove themselves so we'll help 'em get revenge. Most die trying. Got a special test for you. Up for it?" His voice was quick, his vowels clipped, and his general demeanor that of somebody who had little patience, and was not happy wasting his time giving fresh meat some work to do.
They didn't answer, still trying to take it in - and caught more than a little off-guard. Not even time to sit down? What the crap?
"You can sleep when you're done. Short trip, but dangerous. Your hacker buddy says you'll probably need some elint to pin this guy, since you don't even know his name. So, do you wanna practice, or not?"
Ren answered for them both. "What's the job?"
"In the hangar next door is a Sabre. Not just any Sabre - a two-seat version we use for recon. Weaker armor, weaker guns, high-power short-range scanner dish instead of a turret, and an array of antennae on that trapezoidal frontal profile. Pilot flies and shoots, spook in back works the gadgets."
"Hold up," Katashi insisted. "Don't the Hackers have something like that? Why not use one of those, instead of modifying a perfectly good front-line fighter?"
The Outcast simply stared at him for nearly a full minute. Just stood there with his arms crossed, staring - either daring the pilot to say something even less sensible, or giving him a chance to take it back. "Why would we use a Hacker fighter, when we can modify a perfectly good Outcast VHF? That's just stupid, meat. We'd have used a light fighter, but they don't have enough power. We'd use a bomber, but they're too slow. So we used a heavy. Had to strip some power drains - guns - but we did it. Is the Sabre not good enough for you, meat?"
"I'm sorry."
"Damn right you are. Now, you mighta heard there's another House out there. There is, and we think the jump hole is somewhere inside that minefield out there. Stuff flies out, we kill it. They keep coming out. It's in there somewhere. We want you to find it, and go inside to see what's on the other side. Explore a bit, gather intel, and make it back alive...and you get to name the fighter. Then do it again at the northern entrance in the Omicrons - I'll explain later - and keep the fighter, and earn some serious brownie points. Deal?"
They both nodded.
"Good. My boys & girls'll unload your stuff. If you survive, they'll put it in a room for you. Die, they'll put it in the commodities area. Now get outta here, you're not gettin' paid by the hour!"
* * * * *
They waited until they were sealed in the Sabre's cockpit to comment on their host, Ren first. "What's his deal?"
"Probably didn't want us to get too comfy since he expects us to die."
"Oh. Well, that's okay, then." Ren snorted. "It's a load of crap. You know that, right? They know how to get in...they just want to see if we can figure it out. Which is retarded, since we lived there for almost a year. And he's still friggin' weird...and I'm not too sure I like how much he seems to know about our situation."
"Eh...as long as he's good as his word, we'll be fine. Wilson did say it'd be something stupid, didn't he? How're you doing back there?"
He heard Ren shifting in her seat. "Well, it's a good thing we're both short...no way this would be comfortable for a pair of average-sized pilots." There were a few subdued beeps and other assorted electronic noises as she powered up her systems. "Well...this is pretty easy. They just reworked some sort of capship sensors...and cut the range to nothing so it'd work off a fighter's powerplant. Holy crap, it's a drain on the plant...you probably won't be able to shoot much while I'm using the dish."
"S'okay," Katashi assured her. "I'm good at dodging. Ish." It wasn't the first time he'd flown a Border Worlds fighter, so the controls - while not familiar - were at least not totally alien. In only a few minutes, the hangar was emptied of people and air, and the doors opened. Katashi advanced the throttle, and the heavily modified Sabre left the asteroid.
It had been less than fifteen minutes since their CSV had docked.
This time, there was no Scimitar patrol to escort them...Katashi and Ren were alone. Operating from memory, they set their course to the general area they knew Reunion Station to be on, and charged the cruise engines. Navigating the minefield's unmarked, twisting path to the Languedoc jump hole was...exciting, given the Sabre's twitchy maneuvering thrusters and the fact that Katashi didn't drop from cruise, but they made it without getting blown to vapor.
Nobody was waiting for them on the other side, either. Everything was still running normally, as Ren hadn't been using the added scanning equipment - instead, thus far she'd simply been recording their path using the Sabre's onboard equipment. When they reached the border station on the edge of the minefield in Languedoc, that changed...still nothing. Not even a single Council fighter.
"I don't like this..." he murmured.
Ren didn't answer, focusing her full attention on the scanners. "Something's out there...not sure what yet, though. You keep a hair-trigger on the cruise engines, and I'll keep mine on the CM."
Katashi nodded, and flew a short distance over to the wreck of one of the battleships the Council had employed in the taking of the minefield, hoping it might disguise them from the prying eyes of enemy sensors...it didn't quite have the intended effect.
No sooner had they dropped out of cruise than four fightercraft appeared high and to their ten o'clock...from behind the battleship. "Royals!" Ren called out. "Three bombers and a heavy fighter."
She didn't have to tell Katashi what to do - he hit cruise and flipped the Sabre in the other direction, but the GRN pilots were much too close, and too quick. They disrupted the cruise engines and opened fire. After a second's indecision, Katashi armed the Sabre's own guns and ignited the thruster.
"What are you doing?!" Ren demanded, still staring at her screen. "These guys-"
"Aren't you tired of running?"
"Doesn't mean it's not the smart thing to do."
Katashi didn't listen. He alternated between maneuvering under power, and killing the engines, using naught but the thruster to accelerate. At first, the Gallic fighters were unable to land more than one or two shots on the wildly bucking Sabre...until he started keeping his guns on target for longer, exposing the fighter to sustained fire from the target's three companions. That, added to the fact that the Gallic shielding was stronger than he'd expected, the fact that the Sabre had downrated weaponry, and the fact that the Royal pilots had an annoying habit of forming up to shield a wounded comrade, meant that the fight was going nowhere.
This time, Katashi whipped the Sabre around large pieces of debris as the cruise engines charged and Ren jammed her finger down on the CM button. This time, it worked, and they were away. The GRN fighters soon fell behind, and the pair were safely away. Sort of. They continued past the border station, only to detect a Council fighter launching from the border station. It leapt into cruise to pursue - Katashi had no intention of giving the fighter the chance, and hauled the Sabre's nose to vertical in relation to the system plane. The Council fighter quickly fell behind, out of sensor range; several minutes later, the duo permitted themselves to breathe sighs of relief.
"That was dumb, Kat."
"We didn't take much damage."
"But because you wanted to screw with the GRN, we now have at least one elite Council HF sitting on our only way out. We'll either have to fight him, or wait."
"What do you think?"
"What do you think I think?"
Katash sighed, cut the engines, and put everything but life-support to standby. Not far from the mines, far from the ecliptic, the Sabre had become the next best thing to a space ghost.
* * * * *
An hour later...
Katashi sighed softly as he stared at the shadows playing along the length of the Sabre's blocky nose...it wasn't quite perfectly still, and completed a full rotation roughly once every fifteen minutes. It was drifting ever-so-slowly away from the minefield, still doing an impressive imitation of a spectre of the void. One problem with that was that, in spite of the life-support systems' best efforts, the cabin was slowly cooling. It was intended to work along with waste heat from the engines. Without the engines operating, its effective heat output was considerably reduced.
I figure we've got another couple of hours or so before we're in any real danger of freezing, though. Idly, Katashi touched his finger against the transparent portion of the cockpit, leaving a trail through the condensation that'd gathered on the cooling surface. The only sounds were Ren and his breathing, and the gentle hum of the fighter's air scrubbers as they worked to keep the cabin habitable.
"What're we going to do, Kat?" Ren suddenly asked. Her voice wasn't raised, but in the silence of the Sabre's cockpit it nearly seemed as though she'd yelled the question.
"Hmm?"
"If we get this guy...then what? We'll still be addicted to cardi, and indebted to the Outcasts...which means my Junker family probably won't take us in. And you haven't told me much about your folks, but what little you have leads me to believe they won't, either. We already agreed we don't like what the Outcasts are trying to do to Sirius. So...what're we going to do?"
"Well, we'll..." I guess just telling her we'll improvise won't cut it this time, eh? He opened his mouth a couple of times, before shutting it and sighing softly. After a moment's contemplation, he'd come up with exactly the same thing. "I don't know.I really don't. Even the BHG won't take us, because we're on cardi...funny. They'll take ex-cons of all kinds, murderers, thieves, extortionists, you name it...but if you've got a cardi addiction, you're outta luck."
"That's not very reassuring."
"I don't know what to tell you, Ren. I mean, I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you I have a master plan, and everything's gonna be fine. We've been tossed from the cooking pan into the fire, and I haven't plotted a course through the hot coals just yet...I'm sure that, together, we'll think of something."
"Eh...I suppose. We generally have, haven't we? From bounty hunters, to junkers, and now we've had to align ourselves with the outcasts...I don't want to just 'get by', though. I want purpose, Katashi. And I'm worried that after we get this guy, we won't have one. And since we've got a handicap now, we'd better be thinking about it ahead of time." She breathed out slowly, and tried to roll over on her side with partial success. The Sabre's ordinary-sized cockpit, cramped with two people in it, didn't allow for much by way of movement.
The pilot sat in silence for a few moments, considering his companion's words, rolling them over like a rubik's cube in his head while he tried to figure out how to respond. Finally, he ventured, "I know what you mean...but we're not totally without purpose, are we? I mean, we've got each other, haven't we?" He twisted, and reached his hand behind his seat.
Ren took it in hers. "Yeah, and don't you think for a minute I take that for granted...but...you know me. I worry."
He squeezed her hand. "I know. But try not to worry too much, eh? We can handle this. Once we're done, we'll go hide on Gran Canaria or Freeport 11 or something while we figure out what to do next if we need to."
"That'd be nice...beautiful systems, and the zoners there are easy to get along with." She squeezed back, and they both watched the shadows moving across the Sabre's nose as it rolled slowly in the dim sunlight of Languedoc's outer reaches.
