1: The Harbinger

(1)

Solara appeared suddenly aboard the doomed yacht, wrapped her arms around the nearest crewmember and just as suddenly disappeared. With its engines offline and its life support compromised, the luxury yacht had drifted into the gravity well of a small moon. There wasn’t time to launch the SRS Banshee and capture the ship before impact. Solara was their only chance of survival. As the powerless luxury yacht plummeted toward the surface of the small moon, Solara continued to rescue its eight crew members, depositing each of them within a confinement element attached to the modular freighter Exodus. Seconds before impact, Solara had safely transported the last members of the yacht’s crew into the module.

Solara was transporting the prefabricated prison cell to Central Station for the Constable Corps. The CCS Sentinel was escorting the shipment and had been closely following the Exodus when the two ships detected the distress call. The yacht Fancy Squirrel claimed it was under attack when the Exodus and the CCS Sentinel arrived. The CCS Sentinel pursued another ship that was fleeing the scene while Solara set out to rescue the Fancy Squirrel. Besides having the ability to translocate, she also was a contact telepath. And it was information gleaned from the Fancy Squirrel's crew that troubled her.

(2)

Captain Hippolyta Jens performed a head count of her crew. Satisfied that everyone was safely onboard, she turned her attention to their host. Although the female looked outwardly human, it was obvious to Captain Jens that she wasn't. The woman’s ability to translocate limited the number of species to which she might belong. There were only half a dozen corporeal species with that ability, but only one that resembled humans - the Harbinger. Seeing her host standing outside the cell, Captain Jens raised her voice in protest. "Why are we being treated like prisoners?"

Solara turned to face the human who accosted her. The speaker was a stout female with a mop of red hair flowing from the top of her head down to her waist. Her green eyes made her look more alien than Solara. She smiled at the woman. "You aren't prisoners."

"We are in barred cages. If we are not prisoners, then what are we?"

"Guests," Solara sighed. "There are no other quarters on this ship."

"Then unlock the doors," Captain Jens demanded.

"They aren't locked,” Solara replied. Captain Jens reached forward and pushed against the door. It didn't budge. Before she could protest, Solara laughed. "Try sliding the door to the left." When Captain Jens tried again to open the cell door, it slid open coming to rest silently against the cage bars.

Captain Jens stepped out of the holding cell and extended her hand. "Please accept my apology for my behavior. My ship was fired upon for no apparent reason and left to drift into that rather large asteroid."

Solara declined, stating "Your anger is understandable, but I did not fire upon you. We are currently in pursuit of the offending vessel. If you wish, I can drop you off at the nearest human station."

“I’d prefer to maintain the pursuit.”

“And your crew?”

“My crew does what I tell them to. You’ll get no disagreement from them.”

It wasn’t entirely truthful to say that they were guests in the hospitality sense. Although they could leave the locked cells and intermingle, they only had access to the module’s amenities. Solara had stripped them of their weapons and the means to communicate outside their confines. The holding area had no access to the rest of the ship. She also had lied about the pursuit believing that the less Captain Jens knew, the better.

Confident that she had securely confined her passengers, Solara made her way down the main corridor aboard the cargo ship Exodus. She unlocked the clamps securing the salvage and reclamation ship SRS Banshee to the Exodus. Disengaging the SRS Banshee, she took the salvage vessel down to the surface to examine the debris. She was particularly interested in the cause of the engine failure. The very low level of infrared emanating from the intact engine core confirmed her suspicions. Someone had shut down the ship's engines setting it adrift. She scraped the surface of the moon where the debris field was, collecting a layer of moon dust in the process.

A records search revealed that the Fancy Squirrel was an unregistered ship. Using an infrared laser, Solara examined the layers of paint on a hull fragment. The ship had recently been repainted and renamed. Beneath the freshly painted word " Squirrel", she could clearly read the letters "ng Duck". Checking her employers' records, she found the Flying Duck listed among missing ships presumed stolen by pirates. Solara was glad that she trusted her instincts with its crew when she brought them aboard. She sent a summary of her findings in an encrypted data packet to her employer before informing the Constabulary about her passengers

(3)

While Solara dealt with rescuing the crew of the damaged yacht, the CCS Sentinel took chase after the fleeing ship. Although the Constable Corps cruiser could easily have overtaken the smaller corvette, Captain Remy Lucian wanted to follow it back to their base. They shadowed the small craft as it made port at a small asteroidal outpost.

Captain Lucian checked the registry files to see if it was a licensed listed outpost. It was and seriously overdue for an inspection. Lucian opened a communication channel. "Attention, Groddy Haven, this is the Constable Corps Enforcement Division. I am Captain Remy Lucian in command of the CCS Sentinel. We are coming in to inspect your records. Please prepare for our arrival."

The port manager at Groddy Haven put down his bottle of scotch and wiped his chin before replying. "This is Groddy Haven. We'll have our records ready for your arrival. How soon will that be?"

"Our shuttle should arrive within the half hour."

"Acknowledged," the port manager replied. He flicked off the radio and took a final swig of scotch before capping the bottle and stowing it away. "Damn bluecoats," he muttered as he started to organize the box of slips that he had been ignoring since the last inspection. He had hoped that the authorities had forgotten about the outpost when the time for the latest inspection passed without a visit from the Port Registration Bureau. He could handle those paper pushers. Bluecoats were another matter.

The port attendant who met the shuttle wasn't sure how to greet the Constables. He stood stiffly at what he assumed to be attention and saluted the three men who exited the craft. Captain Lucian laughed, "at ease, please. We're here to see the port manager."

The attendant relaxed. "Of course. Master Braxx said to show you to his office as soon as you arrived." The three constables followed the young man up the six flights of steel stairs onto a metal deck outside the port manager's office. The man tapped on the reinforced glass window before opening the door. "Master Braxx," he cleared his throat, "the Enforcers have arrived."

Braxx was still sorting through the box of docking slips when the three officers entered his office. "I see that you are a little behind in your filing," Captain Lucian commented. "Perhaps my two officers can finish sorting out your records while the two of us have a chat."

Braxx looked up from his papers and sighed. Tossing the papers that were in his hands onto the desk, he stood up and crossed the floor. Holding out his hand, he smiled. "Where are my manners? Of course, I welcome the help. My name is Silas Braxx and you'd be?"

"Captain Remy Lucian. Is there somewhere we could go to get out of the way of my officers? Perhaps talk in private?"

Braxx opened a door that led to a back office full of file cabinets and old boxes. Braxx moved the boxes off two upholstered chairs before offering one to his guest. "What brings you to Groddy?" he asked as he sank into his chair.

"I was escorting the freighter Exodus back to Central Station when she bolted on us. I don't suppose you've seen her lately?"

"The Exodus?" Braxx wrinkled his brow. Shaking his head, he replied, "no, not a hair."

"Perhaps you've seen the Banshee?"

"If the Banshee had wandered into port half the ships here would have left. That Harbinger is scarier than you bluecoats by parsecs."

There was a knock on the door. "Enter," Captain Lucian responded.

"Sir, we've just received word that the Banshee has the crew of the Fancy Squirrel in her hold and is on her way here."

Captain Lucian nodded. "Thank you, Ensign. Let Captain Solara know that we will greet her when she arrives.” The ensign nodded. “You're dismissed," Captain Lucian waved toward the door.

"Well, I guess that solves your problem." Braxx wore a confident grin, certain that he could persuade his guests to leave. When the men returned to the outer office, they found that the constables had properly sorted and matched the docking slips to the transmission records. The constables had also made notes of the various ships that had made port since the last inspection.

"It certainly looks like our work is done here. Thank you for your time, Master Braxx." Captain Lucian shook the port manager's hand and followed his men out the door. As they boarded the shuttle, he asked what they had found.

"The ship we are after is the Suleiman. It's currently still docked here."

"Then we wait for it to leave."

"Sir, why did we tell them about the Harbinger?"

"Because most pirates consider us to be a nuisance. The Harbinger, on the other hand, scares the hell out of them. And her coming here should cause the Suleiman to bolt."

By the time Captain Lucian's shuttle returned to the CCS Sentinel, word had spread throughout the settlement and the crew of the Suleiman had made their way back to their ship. Captain Lucian waited until the Suleiman had set course before following. "Where are they going?" he wondered aloud.

"It looks like they are headed back toward the Exodus," the helm officer replied.

"That doesn't make any sense."

Captain Lucian ordered the helm to increase velocity to overtake the Suleiman before it could intercept the Exodus. He hailed the ship. “Suleiman, this is Captain Remy Lucian of the Constable Corps ship Sentinel. Reduce your velocity and prepare to receive a boarding party.” The captain of the Suleiman responded to Captain Lucian's demands by ignoring the hail and increasing their velocity. When the disobliging ship arrived at the crash site, the Exodus was gone – well on its way to Central Station with its cargo. The CCS Sentinel arrived at the moon a short time later.

The Suleiman was scanning the surface of the small moon looking for debris. “You’re wasting your time,” Captain Lucian messaged the smaller vessel. “By now, Captain Solara has offloaded the remains for examination by the Constable Corps and Trans-Galactic Indemnities. You can file a claim for the remains back at Central Station.”

“Where is this Central Station?” the captain of the Suleiman replied. “We are new to this region of space.”

“Obviously,” Captain Lucian muttered at the sight of the alien on his screen. “We’ll escort you there, Captain... do you have a name?”

“I am Skipper Spicebush. We will follow you.”

Captain Lucian nodded in reply, hoping he had not insulted the alien captain. After cutting off communication with the Suleiman, he ordered course set for Central Station. “Keep the shields charged and the weapons on standby.”

(4)

Captain Jens huddled with her crew after they had spent hours examining their quarters looking for a means of escape. Although there didn't seem to be a way out, Hippolyta was convinced that there had to be one, but they just couldn't see it. The plan was to fake an injury to draw the ship captain into the confinement area and force her to let them out. Once free, they would take over the ship. It seemed simple enough. It had worked for them in the past.

Hippolyta underestimated her host. As the crewmember lay on the floor of the confinement module, Solara scanned him remotely. Projecting an image of herself into the module, she scolded her passengers. "Nice try, Captain Jens. Unfortunately, you tried to fool the wrong person. You are aboard the freighter Exodus, inside a new secure holding module that I am transporting to Central Station. I've kept the Constable Corps waiting long enough for this delivery. Although they weren't expecting it to house prisoners until after its arrival."

"I thought you said that we weren't prisoners," Hippolyta charged the hologram only to find herself on the back end.

"You weren't at first. Then I discovered why your ship was unregistered. Possession of stolen property is a criminal offense in this region of space. I'm obligated to turn you over along with the evidence carried in a salvage module." With that, Solara snapped off the projector.

The Exodus arrived at Central Station without her official escort. Solara assured the Constable Corps that Captain Lucian had a good explanation for his lateness, which he would offer on his arrival.

Solara transferred the modular holding unit with its occupants to the section of Central Station which the Corps controlled. She then piloted the Exodus around to another section of the station owned by her employer, Trans-Galactic Indemnities.

Director Rale Moth had Solara’s initial report of the salvage open on his desktop when she arrived at his office. She smiled wanly and settled into an upholstered chair, crossed her ankles and leaned back. She stared at the ceiling while waiting for the inevitable string of questions. Moth said only one word, “Well?”

Solara uncrossed her ankles and sat upright. “At first, I intended to only recover samples, but everything about the crash seemed off. I scraped the surface and recovered all of the debris. After reviewing the recording of the crash, I made an effort to recover anything that might have strayed off course. My updated report should be available soon, if it isn’t already. Nothing and no one are what they seem.”

(5)

The room was fairly austere except for the large triangular table in the center. Each side accommodated three representatives of the parties with extra seating available for any witnesses that they might bring with them. Halbert Finney, Regional Manager for Trans-Galactic Indemnities, sat in the central seat. Sawyer Pine, Chief Constable, sat to his left while Violet Darner, TGI chief Claims Investigator, occupied the seat on his right. This trio would serve as the arbiters of any dispute that might arise.

Rale Moth, Director of Recovery Services for TGI, flanked by Solara Kydd and Captain Remy Lucian stood off to the side conversing in low whispers while waiting for the arrival of the other party. “They claim that the crew of the Fancy Squirrel stole an artifact from them and are demanding that we return it.”

Solara shook her head. “I thoroughly scanned the debris for anything out of the ordinary. I even conducted a physical search. I found nothing unusual.”

“Kydd,” Rale wasn’t usually this familiar, “are you absolutely certain that you didn’t miss anything?”

“Absolutely. I scanned everything. That’s how I found out it was the Flying Duck and not the Fancy Squirrel. We own the Duck having paid out on that policy. I’ve already notified the Constables of the yacht’s ownership and submitted a record of the evidence of its provenance. The Constables conducted their own scan as confirmation.”

The alien delegation arrived wearing environment suits. It was hard to discern their features through the dark screens over their faces. The bulk of the suits slowed their movement as they entered the room. Sitting at the table did not appear to be an option. Their commanding officer approached the table and introduced himself through the mechanical device attached to his suit. A robotic voice announced “I am Skipper Spicebush. I speak for the Eldritch Cartel. We seek recompense and the return of our property.”

“What property?” Rale Moth spoke after stepping forward to the table. Captain Lucian and Solara joined him standing at the table across from the aliens.

“We seek the ship that was stolen from us and the return of the criminals who took it.”

“Ah, there we have a problem.” Director Moth responded. “The ship was indeed stolen, but it belongs to Trans-Galactic,” he paused briefly and smiled, “or rather what is left of it does.”

“The criminals on board...”

“Are our problem,” Captain Lucian interrupted. “They were apprehended in our jurisdiction after having been discovered to be in possession of stolen property.”

“We demand that you give them to us,” Skipper Spicebush raised his right arm. His crew behind him raised theirs as well. Solara smiled at their violation of the weapons ban. It gave her license to act on behalf of her employer.

“You might want to reconsider your position. These beings have zero tolerance for slavery. As it is, you have admitted to piracy by demanding the return of a stolen vessel. I suggest you put away your weapons and leave before they impound your ship and place you under arrest. And if you insist on making that difficult, I could end your lives – painfully.” Solara delivered her message telepathically at a strength sufficient to convince the Eldritch to honor her request. When the Eldritch lowered their weapons for no apparent reason, Captain Lucian looked down at Solara’s bare feet and smiled.