Ed was sat on a spare navigator’s seat, staring up at the huge holomap looming over them in the centre of the bridge. As the behemoth cruiser arrived in the Jagnorite system, the map instantly changed to the locale and panned in to show the system and its aggregation of planetary bodies, finally settling on one large blue planet.
Ed had argued strongly that his priority was his ship and crew, but Pickyrd quite rightly stated the Gabriel was quarantined at the station and not going anywhere and his crew were being followed by a detachment of his marines. Until they reported back with their position, they had no idea where to go anyway.
He’d finally relented and agreed that finding out who authorised the explosive cladding was also a priority and they might as well be doing that while they were waiting.
He watched as the planet Jagnorite, the fifth satellite in the system circling a class G star of similar size and brightness to the sun, loomed large above him. The main industry here was ship building and servicing. Countless huge construction platforms hung motionless above the planet, some with ship skeletons in the early stages of fabrication and others with near-completed vessels in all shapes, sizes and designations.
The random flashing of a hundred thousand welding lances was like a firework display and Ed sat hypnotised, watching the quite beautiful spectacle.
‘Keep us at two hundred thousand and well clear of the jump zones,’ said Captain Pickyrd, glancing at the duty pilot sitting below and to his left.
‘Captain,’ the pilot acknowledged, nodding.
‘That’s quite an impressive set-up they’ve got here,’ said Ed, without taking his eyes off the holomap.
‘Not been here before then?’ said Pickyrd. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t unless you were having a ship built or serviced. It’s not a very inspiring planet in all truth. It’s either impenetrable jungle around the equator or frozen deserts elsewhere, interspersed with enormous mines collecting the construction minerals.’
Ed watched Pickyrd adopt a nostalgic expression.
‘I remember having a training exercise down there as a recruit. It’s one of those planets where everything from the smallest insects up to the largest mammals wants a piece of you. Not a place to go camping unless you have a detachment of marines on hand to watch over you while you sleep.’
‘Where was it you had your cladding refit?’ Ed asked.
‘Salft Engineering,’ said Pickyrd, pointing as a massive construction that resembled a whale with its mouth gaping began flashing in red. ‘It’s one of only two yards that can take a Katadromiko – well, half of one anyway.’
‘We need to get over there,’ said Ed, turning his seat to face Pickyrd.
‘I thought you might say that – come with me.’
After handing over to his First Officer, he led Ed off the bridge and through a maze of corridors to a small hangar on the starboard side of the ship. It contained only one ship, a small, sleek, black military vessel. It looked as if it was doing light speed while stationary it was so narrow and pointed.
‘Wow,’ said Ed, as Pickyrd opened its small airlock. ‘This looks pretty cool.’
He beckoned Ed inside and closed the airlock.
‘It’s what a Skirmat detective uses,’ he said, handing Ed a grey uniform. ‘Put that on.’
Ed noticed the Skirmat flashes on the epaulettes of his jacket and the eagles on the sleeves of Pickyrd’s black uniform.
‘Isn’t it a serious offence impersonating a Skirmat Eagle?’ he asked.
Pickyrd shrugged.
‘We’re already dead, remember? And from what you’ve told me about what happened on Dasos at least one of them is involved anyway.’
Ed had to admit that was true and the uniform did look quite smart.
‘I’m the Eagle and you’re my 2IC,’ said Pickyrd. ‘We have almost unlimited powers to inspect anything we want, so if in doubt, intimidate, shout and threaten.’
‘Got it,’ said Ed, smirking, as he took the co-pilot’s seat.
Pickyrd cloaked the tiny ship and eased it out through the hangar door, which closed quickly behind them before any over-observant array operator spotted a tiny return in the middle of nowhere.
They jumped outside the system and then back into one of the recognised incoming jump zones and made a beeline for the Salft Engineering platform. Pickyrd, using his authority, soon had landing permission and took the craft along the designated flight path and into a large hangar, turning the ship to face the door and landing near an airlock along the back wall.
‘In case we need a quick exit,’ he said, nodding at Ed.
Leaving the ship powered up and ready to go, they exited. There were several small vessels parked randomly around the large space. A man in stained blue coveralls appeared out of the airlock and trotted over to meet them.
‘Sorry, sirs,’ he said, trying to get his breath back. ‘I was having my breakfast, they only just informed me of your arrival.’
‘Are you in charge of this facility?’ Pickyrd demanded.
‘Err – no, sir,’ he said, nervously. ‘Only this hangar. I have to escort you up to central operations.’
‘Lead,’ Pickyrd said assertively, and pointed with his hand.
Ed noticed surveillance cameras turning and following them as they went. Using his DOVI, he delved into the station’s systems and found them wide open for a little manipulation. It took him a while, because walking he couldn’t close his eyes and concentrate on the information scrolling across his retina and had to rely on staring at the dark-coloured walls to focus on it. Finally, he found what he was searching for and shorted out all the station’s camera feeds.
The faint sounds of alarms sounding somewhere on the station reached them. Pickyrd grabbed the arm of their guide and stopped him.
‘What are the alarms for?’ he asked.
‘Hang on, sir,’ he said, sliding a tablet out of his jacket.
He hit a couple of icons and frowned.
‘Power outage or something,’ he said. ‘Taken out some workplace cameras. The alarm’s to tell everyone to stop what they’re doing. Safety and well-being regulations and all that,’ he added, rolling his eyes.
His tablet pinged and he studied it again.
‘Oh – there’s a fire now in an electrical suite on level forty-nine.’
‘Is that a common occurrence?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Are we going near there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Carry on then.’
After an elevator ride that clanked its way up countless levels they emerged in a different world. Carpeted corridors, plush seating and huge pictures of starship designs along the walls. Music played in the background and some wide windows looked out over the shipyard showing a large freighter currently having a refit.
The guide stopped at a large double door and touched his tablet to a panel on the right-hand side. The doors parted, disappearing into the frame. He nodded for them to enter.
‘Go through,’ he said. ‘They’re expecting you.’
‘I bet they weren’t,’ said Pickyrd.
Ed followed him into a large suite of offices, sectioned off by low wall panels turning into glass halfway up. It made the room seem open-plan while actually not being. Behind a reception desk sat a smiling girl with “can I help you” eyes. They approached.
Ed noticed the background hum of activity within the room had died down as they entered and now as they reached the desk, it was completely silent.
‘I would like an audience with the facility chief,’ Pickyrd ordered.
The girl’s eyes widened as the doors behind them opened again and she ducked down out of sight.
‘That would be me,’ said a stern voice behind them.
Ed’s eyes bugged as he turned to find a row of soldiers holding laser rifles and the man who spoke standing in the middle, wearing the same uniform as Pickyrd, only his wasn’t fake and neither was the laser pistol pointing at Ed’s head.
‘Not again,’ Ed sighed, his shoulders slumping. ‘What have I done to deserve this shit? Everywhere I go I get a fucking gun in my face.’
‘That’s because you’re supposed to be dead, Mr Virr,’ said the newcomer, shrugging. ‘Only you keep popping up again and being a royal pain in the arse.’
‘Send one in,’ Pickyrd muttered.
‘I beg your pardon?’ asked the newcomer, swaying the pistol over at Pickyrd instead. ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced.’
‘How rude of me,’ said Pickyrd, with a wide smile. ‘Captain Nicodemus Pickyrd of the 28.’
The smug expression on the newcomer’s face slipped into the realms of unsure for a second before recovering.
‘You’re lying,’ he said. ‘The 28 was destroyed by this gentleman’s ship a few days ago on the fringes of Klatt—’
The sudden sound of screeching alarms interrupted him and he leaned to one side to see past them and into the control room.
‘Not another electrical fire?’ he shouted at the nearest operator.
‘No, sir – missile lock!’
His eyes widened in shock.
‘What?’