"It ain't much, but it's honest work" aka "The freelancer's woes"

[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Somewhere in omegas, on board Ol'Reliable
10/20/833

---

“INCOMING MISSILE”

“For f*ck’s sake!” cursed Finn, while frantically trying to maneuver Ol’Reliable through a dense ice field. “How many of those bloody things that bastard has?”

“Countermeasure deployed, and… f*ck, it got through!” shouted Sheena from her console.

“Shield’s holding, but the engine cycle is out, it was another wasp, boss.” said Max, only slightly calmer than Sheena or Finn.

Finn swore again. Just their luck to run into a pirate in the middle of Omegas.

“Chase the wanker off, Sheena! He probably called for his friends, we gotta vanish, fast!”

“I’m f*cking trying! The b*tch clings on to us more than a cheap whore on her rich client!” Sheena snarled “I’m keeping him out of his main gun’s reach, but he just refuses to let go!”

Her angry reply snapped Finnean out of the panic mode. “Right,” he thought, “calm down, you idiot, and think!”

“Computer!” he said, opting for voice commands while his hands were busy dodging and weaving Ol’Reliable through the cloud of large ice asteroids, “NavMap of this region, all marked points of interest, overlay on the main screen, aligned with camera imagery!”

A split-second later the main screen, which displayed the view from the cameras on the ship’s front, flickered and then stabilized again, now with all the known bases, hazards and other charted things marked by a symbol and distance counter.

“INCOMING MISSILE”

Finn swerved the ship down and to the right around a large chunk of ice. “Countermeasure in three, two, one, NOW!” he shouted as he put the block of ice in between them and their pursuer.

“Copy, countermeasure deployed!” Sheena acknowledged his order, in a much calmer voice than before.

Seconds ticked, the missile was still en route. Three. Two. One.

“It lost the track, countermeasure is gone but so is the missile!”

“Good! Engines, Max?”

“Cruise at eighty percent and charging, five seconds to go!”

Finn cursed, this time in his head only. Five seconds was a lot. The asteroid which he used to break the line of sight for the bomber on their tail was not that large and their speed already carried them outside of its cover, so the attacker had time to send another wasp after them.

At the same time, five seconds wasn't a lot. Computer might’ve been able to squeeze a missile through their defenses in such a short time, but either the pirate’s computer was built from scrap or he didn’t use it. It wasn't that uncommon. Small craft pilots often didn’t trust the computer to make the split second decisions and adjustments necessary for the fast paced high G combat the fighter and bomber craft often engaged in. And they were right, at least partially. Computers still had trouble predicting human’s reactions, especially in the chaotic close combat environment, while good pilots were often able to gain an instinctive feel for their opponent’s flight style.

But the really good pilots also knew the best way was to combine the human's instinct with the computer’s reaction. Such pilot would fire another missile the moment his target disappeared behind an asteroid, aimed in the approximate direction of the fleeing ship’s last known vector and trust the missile’s onboard computer to acquire its target when it appeared on the scanners again.

Luckily for Finn and his crew, the pirate was good, but not that good. And so, this time, five seconds was enough.

“Cruise engaged, boss!” Max reported. “Power levels are holding, looks like the wasp hits haven’t fried anything permanently.”

“Good, let me know if anything changes.” said Finn, while setting up as straight a path away from the enemy as he could.

Thousand clicks. Two thousand clicks. Three thousand. Four. Four. Three thousand and nine hundred.

Finn sighed. The pirate may have missed his opportunity to deny them cruise, but he swiftly recognised his mistake and switched to cruise too. He was also faster and nimbler than their bulky transport. It would take him some time to gain enough ground so he could fire another wasp, but time was unfortunately on his side. The sectors in deep omegas were vast and mostly void of humans, except for narrow hubs and corridors of activity. No station, jump gate, trade lane or jump hole was close enough for Ol’Reliable to make her escape. At best, their luck has bought them some time, ten, maybe twenty minutes.

Finn’s eyes scanned the screen, evaluating every marked location and eventually discarding them all. Almost everything was too far away and the only places close enough so they could get to them before their advantage would evaporate was an old station wreck, cluster of derelict fighters and an abandoned minefield, neither of which would help them one bit.

Wait. For a split-second Finn’s brain screeched to a halt, then went into overdrive. A new idea appeared. Dangerous, incredibly risky idea, a flat out gamble really. But it was also the only chance he saw for getting away from the pirate with their cargo intact. Finn sprang to action, his fingers dancing across the controls, quickly plotting a new course and preparing a macro which would immediately reroute power from everything but the sublight engines and rudimentary life support to the ship’s shields.

Max noticed the new route on the plot and his face went pale. It grew even paler when Finn broadcasted the ‘Brace for impact!’ alert through the ship's intercom.

And then they were there. Finn slammed the button he tied the macro to and the ship’s computer did the rest. Everything non-essential shut off, while the sudden influx of power to the shield almost made it visible. Ol’Reliable drifted full speed into the minefield.

“What the…!” Sheena shouted, but she was cut off by an explosion which rocked the whole ship. Then the second explosion came. The third. Shield gave out after the fourth and the last part of the macro immediately fired the ship’s RCS thrusters and brought it to halt.

For several long minutes, there was only silence. Then, Sheena finally composed herself enough to be able to speak.

“Ok, boss,” she asked, “care to explain the plan?”

Her voice was calm, but there was a subtle shake in it, betraying the fact her calmness was a mere act.

“Yeah, “ Max seconded her question, ”I would also like to know the reason why are we floating in the middle of an active minefield, boss."

Finn turned to them and smiled, trying as best as he could to appear much more confident than he actually was.

“Well…” he stretched his reply a bit, “yes, we are in the minefield. I would like to be pretty much anywhere else, just as you would, but our friend, currently floating on the outside of said minefield, would most likely make sure we’re somewhere where we really, really, really don’t want to be. We can’t outgun him, we can’t outrun him, we can’t call for help. So, I figured our only option was to hide.”

Max considered the answer and nodded, but Sheena was clearly puzzled by the explanation.

“But… boss, we aren’t exactly hiding,” she pointed out, “he can see us on the scanners just fine.”

“Yes, he can, but he can’t exactly get to us, right? His shield will be gone by the time the first mine explodes, and I doubt his fuselage can withstand more than one explosion either, while we, on the other hand, can eat several of them before our shield overloads.”

Sheena was still not convinced.

“Sure, but he’s small and nimble. He can maneuver through the mines without setting them off.”

“Correct,” nodded Finn, “but tell me, Sheena, what would that careful and slow maneuvering through the minefield make him into?”

Sheena blinked, then grinned, baring her teeth.

“A target practice.” she said. “Ok, I see it now, boss, but that still leaves one question. What if he decides to wait us out? We have to get out eventually.”

“True,” agreed Finn, ”but we have a lot of supplies on board. A lot more than we would need if we just stocked enough for the small crew we have and a bit of extra for safe measure. Collin is a bit paranoid when it comes to the supplies and he decided to make use of the fact Ol’Reliable is still way more automated then a ship of its class would otherwise be. We could probably last a month before we’ll actually need to move.

Do you really think he’s willing to wait here that long? Or that he actually can? Yes, he could probably call for his friends and try to swarm us, but pirates are not known for their patience and even much less for their courage. It’s one thing to engage a transport when you can zip around it faster than the turrets can rotate, it’s something completely different to engage it when you can’t maneuver and all the turrets are already aimed at you. No, I give him one… maybe two days if he’s really patient, then he’ll go find some easier prey.”

He saw Sheena’s doubtful expression slowly change while he laid out the facts. By the end, she was convinced. Perhaps not fully, but enough.

“Ok,” she nodded, “but I really hope it won't be more than those two days.”

Turned out the pirate’s endurance was much shorter than that. Three hours later he engaged cruise and disappeared from the scanner. They waited a few more hours in case he waited for them just outside their scanner range and then they slowly made their way out of the minefield. They managed to only set off two mines, which blasts were absorbed by the shield, and then they were in the clear.

The rest of the cruise to their chosen jump hole was remarkably uneventful.

---

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[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Somewhere in Cambridge, piloting Highlander
10/21/833

---

Finn cursed his luck. First, the minefield, then a police gunship caught them smuggling iridium to Dublin and then his brother came up with the brilliant idea of stuffing Finn into a small freighter and sending him off to the deep omicrons to deliver some biodome construction stuff to Pygar on extremely short notice. Finn wasn’t even sure who he was delivering the stuff to. He had to leave Ol’Reliable in Sheena’s hands and get on his way almost immediately after docking in New London’s orbit. At least his brother had the sense to get the freighter and the goods delivered to New London instead of making Finn go get it, and he added the channel he used to negotiate the contract to the freighter’s computer. Finn sighed. He was still in house space, riding a long trade lane in the Cambridge system, nothing the autopilot can’t handle, so Finn might as well check who the client is.

Turned out it was some small religious organisation. New Covenant Church, they were calling themselves. Finn remembered he saw some open broadcast from them, so he punched their name into the terminal. Sure enough, the broadcast came up, along with some press releases. Finn checked his NavMap, but he was still a decent way away from the point where he needed to leave the trade lane, so he played the broadcast. It was a speech of sorts. It didn’t give him much in terms of understanding who he was dealing with, so he pulled up the press releases. They were a bit more informative. What he saw gave him an impression of a small religious group, well, at least if you take the whole sector as a scale, with large goals, and possibly, though the jury was still divided about that, delusions of grandeur.

But the church also looked like they preferred diplomacy over guns, so all in all it looked like a customer who can potentially bring a lot of business, while the risks, at least in terms of not getting paid for the goods, were minimal.

His terminal beeped and Finn glanced at the NavMap. The waypoint he set up was approaching fast, so he closed all unrelated stuff, turned off the autopilot and about a minute later he disengaged the trade lane. A brief deceleration pushed him into the seat, and then he was free from the corridor. There were no ships on his scanners, so he engaged cruise and headed for his next checkpoint, a jump hole hidden in an ice cloud.

This trip might turn out to be one of the mind numbingly boring ones, but it might just open new trade opportunities in the deeper omicrons.

---

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[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
Near Cold Bay Depot, Hudson,
11/01/833

---

Lachlan stared from the screen, blank expression on his face.

“She did what?!” he asked after he processed the information for a second.

Finn breathed in and sighed. “She stole a fighter from a junkyard and went to space with it. Don’t ask me how she got it running or where she got the suit…”

“The suit?” repeated his brother.

“Yeah, the suit, the vac suit you need for piloting small craft into space. She got one that fits her.” explained Finn, his voice as flat as his brother’s expression a few moments ago.

“But… but… how? That’s… how?” Lachlan stuttered, still trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Finn just shrugged, having exactly zero clue himself.

“You do realize,” Lachlan continued, “what a fine bloody mess this is, right?!”

“Oh,” Finn grimaced, “it gets worse.”

Lachlan blinked. “Worse? How can it get any worse?”

“You haven’t checked the recruitment channel since yesterday, haven’t you?” Finn asked.

His brother looked confused at first, but then it hit him. For a second, he was unable to speak, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh. Oh no. No, no, no, you’re joking. You have to be joking! She didn’t!”

“Yes, yes she did. She applied publicly… well publicly in our circles, but still.” Finn confirmed, in a rather defeated manner.

“Oh dear.” Lachlan went visibly pale on the screen. “Ma will be furious when she hears about this.”

“That she will.” Finn agreed, “So, how about we try to keep it from her at least until Morgana turns eighteen?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Lachlan asked, visibly disturbed by the thought.

Finn sighed. “No, I’m not. But Ana claims she’s still going to school, and chances are, if mother gets wind of this, she’ll make such a ruckus our sister will flip out, jump into that new fighter of hers and run away to live in space for good, just so she can fly with me. I don’t want that, at least not until she completes school. Keeping mother out of the loop for the time being is probably the only way to ensure Morgana won’t go completely rogue.”

“Yeah… yeah I think you’re right” Lachlan admitted. “As much as I hate the idea, this is probably the best out of all the bad scenarios. And we don’t have any good ones, well, not ones which would keep our sister down on the planet. F*ck. It won’t be easy keeping mother from figuring this out.”

Finn nodded. “Yes, well, good luck with that, you’re…”

“Wait.” Lachlan interrupted him. ”You’re throwing this on me? Why? I’m not the one who fed Ana all the stories!”

“Because,” Finn countered, “brother dear, you’re the one who’s down there. You’re the one who’s job is to know, as you so smugly reminded me some time ago, and our dear sister did it all under your nose. I may have told her some stories, but you’re the one who’s supposed to watch out for our family down there, while I’m up here, making sure we don’t have to live from dad’s health insurance.”

Lachlan winced, his shoulders slumped. His brother might not be entirely fair in his assessment, but the core of it was correct. Finnean really didn’t have a chance to keep close tabs
on the family affairs, not while he was transporting stuff from all around the sector, being away for days, weeks sometimes even. That left Lachlan to keep an eye out on things dirtside and truth be told, he should’ve seen Morgana is up to something. And he hasn’t.

“Ok, yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll handle things down here, but we have to do something about Morgana, she can’t stay out there and in a bloody fighter no less.”

“As much as I agree with you, Lan, it’s still Morgana we’re talking about.” Finn shrugged. “You know our family has a strong streak of stubbornness and she’s no different. Besides, she is out there now. That can of worms has already been opened. She has the means to go wherever she wants now, regardless of what you or me want. I’d very much rather keep her close, then risk her flying off on her own.”

There was silence for a moment, then Lachlan shook his head.

“Yeah, you’re right. God I hate it, but you’re right. F*uck, what a mess. Ok, we can’t make her stay put, but we have to do at least something about the ship! If what you said is true then it’s a miracle that thing is flying. We need to get it checked.”

“You don’t say. But we can’t really go to a normal shipyard, she’s got no papers for that ship. I’ll think of something. Look, I have to run, we need to deliver the bloody filters or we never complete that job. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Sure. Have fun keeping our sister in line. See you later.”

With that, Lachlan closed the connection. Finn turned from the screen and looked at the readout form the scanner's suite. The small dot floating in space near Ol’Reliable seemed to be a lot more fragile now than a few minutes ago.

---

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[Demonic]

Finnean MacRory
On board Ol'Reliable, New London orbit
11/26/833

---

Finn stared at the screen, trying to figure out what the hell he just read. He didn’t find the time before to check the reports from Starfliers he bought, and since he had some time to kill while he was waiting for Lachlan’s call, he decided to dive into them now. Turned out the reports were… well, interesting to say the least. Oh, they had everything they should, the dangers, the mining locations, everything. But the commentary was weird. Finn wasn’t sure what he expected but what he got was a narration from someone who clearly hated his job.

A chime interrupted his thoughts. Finn closed the files with a swipe of his hand and accepted the call.

“Hey, brother,” Lachlan’s image greeted him, “sorry for keeping you waiting, but I had to take care of a few things.”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Finn, “you called, that’s what matters. Have you been able to figure out the solution to our conundrum?”

Lachlan was clearly amused. “Figure out? Brother dear, do you realise we’ve been running a smuggling operation for more than three years now? How many times in the past did our people have to make sure our goods are untraceable?”

Finn shrugged. “A lot of time judging by the kind of stuff you make our people bring to New London. But it’s not really practical to bring the guns to Thames, just to haul them half way back.”

“Ah, right, you don’t know it yet.” his brother smirked at him instead of a proper reply.

“Don’t know what?” Finn demanded.

“Brodie recently took over as a quartermaster on Cape.” Lachlan explained, his smirk widening.

Finn glared at his brother for a second or so.

“And you just couldn’t tell me right away, when I asked if you had an idea how to scrub the guns off the markings and make a suitable paper trail?”

“Well, I could," Lachlan conceded, "but where would be the fun in that? But honestly? I wasn’t sure if he had all the necessary equipment there, so I had to give him a call first. Turned out he didn't, so I had our people prepare a small shipment for you to pick up and bring there.”

“Right, that makes sense,” agreed Finn, “but you still could've mentioned it.”

He sighed, then changed the topic. “Eh, whatever, it’s handled and that’s what matters. By the way, how’s Morgana holding up? I need to send her a message about that fighter of hers soon.”

“Don’t know honestly. Haven’t been in much contact with her since that unfortunate event. I wish we could talk her out of this, but I digress. I gave up at this point.”

“Shame, I hoped to get a little feel for her mood before I send the message.”

The conversation turned toward some less important topics, and soon died off. Lachlan had more things to organise and Finn wanted to return to the reports. Maybe, if he reads the transcript instead, they would actually make some sense.

---

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