They've got me doing some work so the typings slowed up a little ..
Chapter 5
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Sometime after Lumar was wondering how to adjust the AI’s programming to ask pertinent questions like, ‘who’s trying to kill me? And how do I get them to stop without turning them into frozen space fertilizer that might one day fall into the thin atmosphere of a young planet and introduce organisms that would form the basis of new sentient life millions of jazuras later?’
Except Treema kept responding, “Would you like the results as a demographic breakdown by species, in chart format or as a high level list of everyone who has come in contact with you or has lost a family member.”
“Have you been installing some type of personality disorder upgrade?” Lumar said and guided the Nova through the gate into Interworlds.
“No such upgrade option has been received, would you like me to access the central database to search for this functionality?”
“No, you seem to have inherited it already. What you can do is open a comm. to Korecmancketras,” Lumar responded and increased acceleration to clear the gate, he reviewed the sector map and highlighted the equipment dock. Setting course he checked for any sign of hostile ships and relaxed when he spotted a sizable group of sector police patrolling the freight shipping lanes.
The comms channel opened and the familiar face of the Paranid appeared and said, “Yes, unenlightened one.”
“Tell me you’ve been busy working out who organised the attack at Trantor City?”
“We have.”
Lumar waited for a few sezuras and then said, “And?”
“The boy T’Rkkn is the son of highly respected Split family, and currently working for T’Khhr Universal Drive Systems,” Korecmanketras replied.
“So which one sent the bounty hunters?”
“Neither, or at least not yet, but I think that is just a matter of time,” Korecmanketras smiled and then went on, “You should know, although the station was not attacked, someone’s hacked into our ship manifest and recent station movements. There’s a good chance those bounty hunters have identified the Nova.”
“That doesn’t say much for your security system, and probably means this call is being monitored. Which’ll be easy to check, isolate and deal with,” Lumar said and looked thoughtfully at the perplexed expression of Korecmancketras, the comm line dropped signal and for several sezura there was nothing and then Treema announced, “Reconnecting to secured transmission frequency.”
“All indications are that the hack is an inside job,” Korecmancketras muttered and Lumar could tell the Paranid was annoyed which could only mean the test signal scan had indicated a hacked line.
“You need to tread carefully my friend, if they’re organised enough to get through your employee screening then there’s no knowing what traps and devices they have installed on your station and ships.”
“By the blessed three dimensionality we already have that in hand and will shutdown the station. Trusted lower life forms have been instructed to conduct a micro-biotic emissivity sweep scan for explosive particulates, power sources and will perform power node and systems level clean sweep for viral AI,” Korecmanketras said.
“Let’s hope that the person you’re looking for isn’t one of the trusted engineers,” Lumar responded, “Now for a favour, use your contacts to see if you can find the missing girl from the depot. I’ll make my location obvious and if people want me they know where to find me, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.”
“From Creed I would expect nothing less but from Lumar, having taken the Goner vows, I’m not so sure you’ll be able to hold to your sacred words,” The Paranid responded.
“That is my test. Now get on and do what you need to, and may your three dimensionality guide you,” Lumar said and moved the nav panel towards him.
“Try not to die,” Korecmanketras said with a smile and the image disappeared.
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Attracting attention, Lumar considered, would not be a problem it was just a question of where to make his presence felt first. He spent time studying the galactic map and eventually opted to head towards Sacred Relic and on from there towards the pirate sectors. Sometime later and after an uneventful flight he crossed from Sacred Relic into Cardinal’s Domain, the main military and staging post for the surrounding Paranid sectors. The shipyard was a hive of activity with transport ships delivering raw materials, nearby a destroyer prowled the space lanes while tiny fighter squadrons buzzed protectively around its huge bulk.
To Lumar it looked as though the Paranid military machine was gearing up for conflict but then again, he considered, so was everyone else.
“We are scanned.”
Lumar watched the small sector police Pegasus shoot past, the new ship a mere shadow of its suicidally fast predecessor that had become a firm favourite of gate racers. He remembered the controversial ‘decommissioning’ regime adopted by the Paranid Government and the brief period of amnesty before being outlawed which led to a number of ‘regrettable accidents’ involving pilots who refused to give up their prized possessions.
“Ship clean, proceed lower life form,” The message blurted out over the comms with the usual overtone of distaste. In space, Lumar reflected, there was always something happening but for now there was an unmistakable lack of anything taking place here, so he decided a visit to the trading station to restock his personal supplies and to see if any non-Paranid was about to have themselves rudely torn limb from limb for making a sound that seemed unholy to the ears of the locals, which under other circumstances would have been recognised as speech.
“By reluctant acceptance of his divine holiness, docking permission is granted unholy lower life.”
“It’s good to hear they’ve modernised the traditional greeting to something in line with modern Paranid thinking,” Lumar mused.
“Indications are that the greeting is programmed to match your social status and recognition by the Paranid authorities,” Treema responded.
“So if I were really popular do you think they’d find a way to be more or less rude?”
“Please wait, attempting to redefine the word popular.”
“Considering they let me on board, I must be on the right side of the social boundary therefore someone must like me,” Lumar protested with the hint of a smile.
“I am registering a ninety two percent probability of an error in their computer records.”
“I’m certain I can scan through your programming for undesirable code as you sound to have picked up a nasty virus that needs treating.”
“No infection detected.”
“I think you should let me be the judge of that.”
The Nova glided between the array of docking lights and came to rest and the docking arm deployed. “As much as I’m enjoying our conversation I need to stretch my legs,” he said and unbuckled the restraint harness. Wandering freely around was one aspect of Goner life that he was beginning to miss and although he felt pleased to be piloting his own ship he was also aware how cramped and close the environment. Mizuras later with fresh supplies of snacks, drinks and replicator meal tablets stowed in lockers they departed the station and charted a course for Mi Ton’s Refuge.
The heavily armed flights of military ships patrolling the sector space immediately before the gate had him reconfigure the weapons array enabling the particle accelerator cannons. Lumar reflected the whole Goner experience was about being given a choice and as he had often debated finding the truth was about making the right choice at the right time, yet understanding that every choice made would also have repercussions deep into the future. The hypothetical argument that the great grandchild of a pirate killed when attacking a Goner craft might one day have brought galactic peace to the universe was often countered by the claim that the same child could equally have brought total anarchy left him giving the counterpoint suggestion, “the pirate would be dead so neither option applies, so who cares? No one would be any the wiser.” At which point he was instructed that he had missed the point of the discussion.
“Entering sector Moo-Kye's Revenge.”
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With fingers lightly touching the flight controls he scanned the local space around him and shot occasional glances at the HUD. For a sector notoriously wrapped in continual pirate activity and littered with the debris of unfortunate freighters that used the ‘dead run’ as a short cut to the Teladi sectors beyond, it was unusually quiet.
Three red triangles at the edge of the scanner betrayed the presence of a pirate scouting group. By the designation they were all M-five fighters and although not a significant threat, Lumar knew they could prove to be an irritation. He called up the sector map and noted despite the sectors reputation budding merchants were still risking everything and jostled hung close to heavily armed fighters and their light fighter escorts. He did not need to check to know they were weapons dealers.
The asteroid field drew his attention, few mining ships were brave enough to try and extract the mineral wealth and the pock marked surfaces were often blackened by the charred remains of ships. Yet amongst all the debris a few stations registered, he targeted a Bliss Place and felt that the Paranid probably resented and loathed the presence of this illicit drugs factory so close to their border. “Get me an update on available docking positions.”
There was a short delay before Treema responded, “Three ports currently vacant another two are reserved.”
“Request docking permission, and take us in.”
“Permission granted.”
The Nova turned gracefully and dipped its nose towards the lines of docking lights. For Lumar the sector was too quiet, as though it was anticipating a storm or was simply lying low in response to the Paranid military presence on the other side of the gate.
“Incoming message.”
Lumar opened the comms. channel and was surprised to discover it was a typed message, all it said was, “Girl. Anarchy station, Loomanckstrat’s Legacy.” The authentication indicated it had come from Korecmancketras and was concise enough to have been typed by his Paranid friend yet inside he felt uncomfortable with it. Particularly with the possibility that a written message could be intercepted and tampered with.
“Welcome aboard space brain. Come to get your fix? You’ve landed at the right place, double discount on all bulk purchases. The eyes of race sector police burning holes in your credit balance? Then check out the latest in scan safe security protection for cargo bay scan sweep suppression technology.”
“Not that there’s anything illegal about any of that.” Lumar muttered.
Another station announcement followed in a silky, sexy female voice, “Spaceweed addiction, do you have a problem? Sexual impotence and social and financial problems making you rely more and more on drugs to escape reality? Then you need to contact Tobius Petri, Goner councillor for advice on rehab to join with me and enjoy the real world again.”
Lumar gave a wry smile and wondered if the Goner Brotherhood had seriously looked at and approved of the advert then said, “All they needed was another line about turning to piracy and it’d be complete. Treema, block all station ads. I’m going on board and while I’m away compute how we can get onto the Anarchy Station.” For a while Lumar sat quietly contemplating if he should board the station dressed in Gonar robes and pay a visit to Tobius then decided it was ridiculous, whoever was looking for him already knew he had dressed as one of the brotherhood and station security would pick up immediately if he stepped out of a fighter looking like a priest.
A while later he stepped into the rehabilitation office on deck fifty seven having avoided the main consumer zone of the station. A portly man dressed in the dark green working robes of a Goner herbalist busied himself with tending a wide variety of various flowering plants that threatened to envelop everything. Tobius beamed brightly when he saw Lumar, “Come in, come in. Please take a seat.”
Lumar looked around and noticed a set of soft armchairs set around a low table, “A nice collection of plants.”
“Something of a passion of mine. Though I know what your thinking, but none of these are for recreational purposes,” Tobius gave a hearty laugh. Lumar simply smiled politely.
“They all look very healthy.”
“The secret is in the fertilizer.”
“Really? Where do you get it from?”
“Ah well, between you and me, the station’s only too keen to find a place to dispose of its unwanted vegetable matter and spent compost. A small boon for me but one I’d rather not have if you can understand that,” Tobius fixed Lumar with a thoughtful stare. Lumar gave a nod of understanding and sat down.
Tobius sat down in an adjacent chair and said, “You appear quite lucid for an addict or are you a small time user?”
“Neither. I need information about the pirate clans and where I can go to get clan colours applied to the hull of my ship,” Lumar said in a quiet voice.
Tobius paled and spoke hurriedly, “If you’re here to rob me then I can assure you I have nothing of value.”
“No, I’m not here to rob you. I’m looking into something for the Brotherhood and need your help,” said Lumar while he put his hand into a utility belt pouch and pulled out a token. Tobius looked at it and took a slow deep breath.
“Very well, but you’ll need to get to New Income. I’ve heard there’s a pirate base somewhere among the asteroids that can give you what you want. Unfortunately the direct route is past two particularly lawless sectors, the second one I’ve heard is littered with squash mines. But I have to ask what is worth so much risk?”
“It’s best not to ask questions and know too much. Anyway thanks for your help, and two words of caution, first; If anyone comes asking about me tell them everything, and second; you might want to reconsider growing plants in a compost medium based on hallucinogenic compounds. Who knows what they might turn into and what interesting effects they could produce,” Lumar said and then left the office.
Let's hope they will find out what has been tempered with before it goes off and that Lumar indeed manages to stay alive!
, but only Mercenary know, what is behind the gate.
as I was typing at ..mutters quietly.. work and needed to rely on my (faulty) memory of the sector names and layout in that region. 
