I own a ship, these days. Certainly nothing amazing, but I'm hardly in the A-list of bounty hunting, so something that could make hyperspace and fight off a few Uglies was pretty much all I was after. I'd wanted to call it the Century Pigeon, but it turns out that someone's beaten me to that joke in every ship registry I could afford (not to mention most of the ones I can't). So, instead, it was the Dirtbox.
I was living out of it - with the docking fees I have to pay, I may as well - and I wasn't having to use it as storage for cargo, passengers or bounties for the moment, so at least it was pretty relaxing. Assuming Dis didn't have something to whinge about.
Dis wasn't happy about having to be the Dirtbox's nav computer, but he had to concede when I pointed out I couldn't afford a nav computer and food and power for the both of us. He'd tried to convince me to skip the food budget, but I can occasionally put my foot down. Still, it being Dis, he went into a sulk, but given that's his response to just about any new stimulus I wasn't particularly worried.
He must have been in a pretty good mood today. No sooner had the Dirtbox's hatch sealed than Dis trundled out of the alcove he plugs himself into when I'm not around. He managed to look disdainful (seriously, on an astromech - I don't know how he does it) and asked SO, DO WE HAVE A JOB? (He's got a channel to my augmetic eye. I get subtitles.)
"Nope, it was a trap," I said, sitting on the bunk to take my boots off. "Client had a grudge, brought hired goons."
A TRAP. WHAT A SHOCK, Dis blatted sarcastically. AND YOU SAID THAT THEY JUST WANTED - WHAT WAS THAT MORONIC PHRASE? - 'FACE TIME'.
"I never said it wasn't a trap, I just said it wasn't necessarily a trap. Not all our clients are grizzled professionals."
NOT ALL OF OUR BOUNTY HUNTERS, EITHER, he grumbled. I let it pass. It's gotten to the point that something would be wrong if he wasn't belittling me.
"Anyway, you know why I came back. You piped the message through to me. What's going on?"
KING THAYER OF MENDELLIA SENDS GREETINGS, Dis twirbled.
"That's it?"
HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW TO READ? HE DOESN'T SAY MUCH MORE.
I shook my head, grabbed the datapad and started reading.
"Crispy,
I hope this message finds you well. Indeed, I hope it finds you at all, and hope further it finds you in a timely fashion. Should all my hopes come to fruition, I bid you greetings.
My friend, a matter has come to my attention that concerns me gravely. I have been attempting to contact your former compatriots, and I could use a man of your undeniable skill and tenacity. I sail in dangerous waters, Crispy, and I do not know which way the wind will yet blow. I dare not say more, not in this missive, but I beg of you, if it is at all possible, please return to Mendellia's fair shores and grant me the gift of your stalwart presence.
My beloved Queen has advised me against sending this message - while she misses you, as do we all, she thought perhaps you had settled into whatever new life you've carved for yourself, and told me to let sleeping dogs lie. But if you find you are sleeping out in the cold, then please, come to the hearth where the fire and the company both are pleasantly warm, and consider sleeping there awhile.
You and your friends helped me reclaim and liberate my homeland, Crispy, and I that is a debt I still cannot repay. I have no right to ask this, my friend, and I apologise should this request open old wounds.
Your servant, as ever
Thayer Atner."
I dumped the datapad on the bunk and slumped against the bulkhead.
SO, twittered Dis, TRAP?
I shook my head. "Nope. Not a trap. At least not in the conventional sense."
A REQUEST OUT OF THE BLUE FOR YOU TO GO BACK TO EARTH. THERE'S SO MUCH EXTRANEOUS LANGUAGE IN THAT MESSAGE THAT MY CRYPTO SOFTWARE HAS REDFLAGGED IT AS SOME FORM OF CODE.
"That's just Thayer. That's how he talks. No doubt he thinks of that as a short note."
HAS HE NEVER HEARD OF BREVITY?
"I'm sure he's heard of it. Equally sure that he regards it with suspicion." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "I assume it's too late for me to ask you to keep this back from NRI?"
I SENT IT THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES AGO. Of course he had, just like a good little robot.
"And they want me to go spy."
A DANGEROUS PARAMILITARY GROUP REFORMING? THEY WANT MORE INTEL.
"And the fact I was part of this paramilitary group doesn't concern them?"
THEY FEEL IT MEANS YOU WILL BE IDEALLY PLACED. THE RISK OF CONFLICTED LOYALTIES ARE MORE THAN OUTWEIGHED BY YOUR EASE OF INSERTION.
"They want me to spy on the closest thing I have left to friends."
YOU'VE BEEN SPYING ON EVERY OPERATION YOU'VE BEEN INVOLVED IN SINCE YOU LEFT EARTH. IT'S JUST MORE OF THE SAME.
"Please tell me you don't really believe that."
Dis hesitated. I DON'T, he beeped sheepishly. There's a reason I stick with the little guy. He's brash, has bombast out the wazoo, but has just enough empathy to stop me from spacing him. BUT COMMAND DOES, AND I SEE NO REASON TO DISABUSE THEM.
"Do you know if Nick's been contacted with this?"
OF COURSE NOT. I COULD FIND OUT, I SUPPOSE, BUT I'LL JUST GET IN TROUBLE AGAIN.
"Best leave it, I guess. All right. Get this bucket in the sky and set a course for Earth."
AH. WONDERFUL. PILOTING THIS EXCUSE FOR A GARBAGE SCOW ONCE AGAIN.
Well, he was whinging again, which I guess meant we were still okay.
"Listen, Dis," I said, as he began to plug himself into the ship, "Can you do me a favour?"
He twirled his head dome and glared at me suspiciously. DEPENDS ON WHAT IT IS.
"When we get to Earth, can we... have a comms malfunction? A delay on filing any reports?"
He stared at me for a moment, then gave the astromech equivalent of a curt nod. ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS ARE MOST TROUBLESOME THIS TIME OF YEAR, he bleeped. EVEN I CAN'T BE EXPECTED TO GET OUR COMMS GEAR TO PUNCH THROUGH THAT.
I smiled in thanks. "How terrible. It will catch us completely by surprise."
THERE'S NO PREDICTING IT, he agreed. NOW, GET SOME SLEEP. THE HYPERSPACE ROUTE WON'T COMPUTE ITSELF AND I CAN HARDLY THINK WITH YOU YAPPING IN MY AUDIO.
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scene from Nick Coghlan:
"Huh, just what are you up to Mr D15?", I heard her mutter as she poked at the data pad in her other hand.
I put the blaster components I was cleaning down and moved to look over her shoulder. "What's up?"
"A file from D15 just landed in the dead drop. Something about him and Crispy heading back to Earth after getting a note from Thayer Atner."
"A note from Thayer? Should I be offended that I didn't get one?"
"You did. NRI are sitting on it, though, since they're your only public contact point. Crispy's went straight to him, then Dis passed it on to NRI."
"Ah, so nice of our favourite spymaster to assume I can't keep my priorities straight and take the decision on whether or not to reply out of my hands. Is there any more detail about why Thayer is asking his friends with Galactic contacts to pay him a visit?"
"Not really. Just some vague stuff about 'dangerous waters' and not wanting to say more in writing. NRI are concerned about your old band getting back together for any reason at all, so they're more than happy to give Crispy as much time as he needs to help out."
"Huh. Well, with Josh heading back, I'd be surprised if it's anything that he and the folks still on Earth can't handle. We have work to do here, and if things really get serious, he knows how to get a hold of us."
"Well, the droid does, but I get the impression from D15's message that it still hasn't informed Crispy about the dead drop."
"I wonder why he would hold that back? When I set it up, I didn't ask him to keep it a secret from Josh, just from NRI and everyone else."
"Who can fathom the mind of a droid? Especially when people are foolish enough to let them run without a wipe long enough to develop idiosyncratic personalities."
I grinned at the opening salvo of an oft-repated argument, but chose not to rise to the bait. "Yeah, I guess it doesn't matter too much. I'm sure Dis will tell Josh if the need arises, or just contact us himself".
Patting her on the shoulder, I headed back to finish cleaning the weapons on the table.
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