Chương 8: Interlude 01

Noah shivered. Why does he keep his office so damn cold? Light streamed in through an open window, pooling on the plush, golden-tan carpet that covered the floor everywhere except expressly where he stood. That spot--exactly two feet from the edge of the desk and running all the way to the double doors behind him-- was clean ceramic tile of the same color as the carpet. Directly opposite of him sat a man, his clean-shaven face thin and eyes glowering from beneath a similarly colored wide-brimmed hat.

It was a terribly uncomfortable place to stand, and he shifted between his feet, thankful for the deep red-brown Texan pseudoak desk between them.

"The salvage freighter was in the Baltic system, just as you said it would be, your honor." Noah tried to look at the man, but something about his eyes unnerved him. As if he could see through whomever he looked at, into whatever secrets they held. Noah instinctively looked away, instead focusing on the rows of books stacked on the shelves behind the man's desk.

"We caught them when they approached one of the wrecks." The man blinked, slow, expressionless, eyes cool as the room. The curtains by the frosted window rustled as the ventilation system blew more frigid air into the office, and Noah fought to keep his eyes from being drawn to the movement. He was determined to look at least in the general direction of the Admin. The man's gaze never left him.

"And yet you're here, alone, without my prize." Noah's face dropped to the floor. When the target indication flipped from grey to red, he'd been shocked, enough so that he'd hung back to watch and process what had happened. The way the freighter had begun to roll and twist was unnatural, as if the pilot and machine had been united. In his years of hunting at the fringe of civilized space he'd never seen anything like it.

He looked for the words to describe what he saw, but his mouth just worked noiselessly, as if he were a fish out of water. Finally, he choked an explanation out.

"It was like it didn't obey physics. One moment, the freighter was fat, dumb and happy, and the next…I was alone and it was hunting me." Disgust crossed System Admin Amos Reed's face, his lip curling into a snarl.

"There were five of you. Level seven fighter pilots, in Arrowheads, one of the best interceptors you can find on the open market. Bested by a level four captain in an under-armed freighter?" He scribbled something onto the paper on his desk.

"Someone is lying to me, or you and your crew are not nearly as good as you claimed. Either way, I'm very, very disappointed." The jab stung, and Noah's pride wouldn't let it stand. He had worked hard coming up over the years and fought just as hard. He'd shed blood and sweat over his career, gathering a crew that matched him and building a reputation for reliability. Besides, the men flying the other fighters had been his friends.

Seeing them disappear in a handful of seconds had shaken him to his core, and he wouldn't let their memory be insulted.

"It changed, your honor. Something happened, and it flipped from a trivial encounter to something bigger. Even a level ten would have at least been rated at easy for us. The System showed us a skull, and then my pilots died." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Reed tapped the pen on the desk, the antique writing implement making an irritating click every time it struck. Noah tried to ignore it, but the noise was insistent upon being heard.

Finally, Reed twirled the utensil between his fingers one last time and set it down on the desk.

"He must have gotten unlocked, then. This glitch is a pilot, it seems." Reed's hand dropped to his lap.

"Your report says you were the only survivor, and no one else was near enough to see the engagement?" Noah swallowed.

"Yes, your honor. Aside from the crew of the freighter, of course." Reed nodded.

"Naturally." Then Reed's hand moved as if it were a coiled snake, drawing a handgun from a holster concealed beneath the desk, cocking back the hammer and leveling it at the pilot in a single, fluid motion. The man moved faster than Noah could comprehend the open mouth of the barrel pointing at his head; he barely processed the movement itself. There was no time to beg, to argue, or even think. The handgun, a. 45 caliber Colt revolver, barked once and Noah collapsed to the tiled patch of floor.

The look of distaste from Bridget as she entered the office irked Reed, but he chose instead to focus on his handgun. Speed wasn't important here, so he savored unlocking the cylinder and dumping the brass cartridges into his open hand. The expended casing was delightfully warm to his bare palm, bringing a smile to his lips as he gripped it alongside its unfired mates.

"Was that really necessary?" She stopped, off the tile, standing on the carpet to the side. A tablet was folded in the crook of her arm, and her expression was as severe as the professional cut of her dress.

"This is how the rumors keep getting started." She tapped on her tablet and the conditioning system switched to blowing warm air into the office.

"He'll start to smell faster if you warm it up, you know." He spread the cartridges across the blotter on his desk, setting the spent one in the upper right corner. One at a time he loaded them into the revolver's cylinder before retrieving a sixth from a box in the top drawer. Once the last round had been loaded, he flipped it closed and slid it away in the holster beside his chair.

"The glitch is already unlocked. As our…contractor found out" he said, indicating toward the crumpled body on the tile, "they appear to be a pilot of considerable skill."

"The Board won't be happy if you keep them in the dark too long. Chin and Metzgow both received the notification as well." Reed snorted, a short, sharp laugh.

"Chin's more concerned with politics and food these days, and Metzgow is out chasing his xenos artifacts. No one who matters is aware of the glitch." The door to his office opened, two men pulling a large, wheeled basket lined with a thick plastic bag. A third followed, an automatic mop in hand. The first two hoisted the pirate's body into their cart and the third man set to erasing the red puddle that had begun to gather on the tile.

Reed and Bridget watched, silent, as the clean-up was carried out, waiting until the men had left before speaking again. Bridget watched the door close, eyes hard.

"We'll have to send him and his fighter into the primary." She made a note on her tablet.

"Did he at least tell you where the glitch went before you fired him?"

"He was yellow. He ran as soon as the fight got tough, so he didn't see anything." Bridget slid her tablet in front of Reed, two stars adjacent to the Baltic system highlighted.

"There are only two jump points where they could go, then. Calles, in Aquitaine and York in Frieland." Reed swung his chair back and forth a moment, his pointed leather boot heels dragging across the carpet. The motion reminded him of riding, something he hadn't done nearly enough as of late. Once this glitch was sorted, he'd have to schedule a session.

"That freighter is registered to Frieland, isn't it?" Bridget nodded an affirmative.

"Then likely they'll head to York. Prepare my ship, please."