Prologue

As he watched wistful tendrils of nebulus cloud dust in it’s peculiar variety of orange colors slowly drift past the large Observation Lounge windows, Captain Evan Durwin Carbandur wondered how long it would be before anyone else saw the view he saw now for it was truly remarkable. Glancing one last time at the panorama of stars and orange nebula, Evan withdrew and with evenly paced steps born of long years of disciplined military service he strode out of the Observation Lounge located at the very front of his faithful ship, the Orion. There was just one last task to perform before settling his beloved ship into the resting place he alone had discovered and chosen for her. Normally the Orion bustled with activity and crewman but now she was eerily quiet but peaceful and though severely damaged and with little energy remaining, even being controlled by the automatics she moved with a certain grace and hidden power Evan had felt with no other ship. He knew he would probably never see another person again, but with luck the Orion would someday soar between the stars again. For that, Evan had risked everything and this last task.

**********

Not many years previous, the vast area of space explored by the race known as “Man” was peaceful and flourished under the watchful care of the Galactic Order. The Galactic Order had kept the peace for many centuries as Man flourished and explored the stars, finding great wonders and colonizing strange and wondrous planets. Many alien races had been encountered over the centuries, each with their own unique characteristics. Many were benevolent races and easily befriended by Man. Some were not and turned the race of Man away while others felt threatened by Man and desired no contact with the peoples of Man. A few tried to over power Man or attempt to take at least some of the riches of Man without respect to the laws and ways of Man. When necessary, the Galactic Order served to ensure peaceful coexistence of all races and to protect the people of Man and allied races from those who would harm others. In all, it was good and had been so for many centuries with only isolated encounters where violence was necessary.

Along the outer edges of Man’s known space, the Galactic Order did not always have a strong presence and while this meant it could be more dangerous in those areas, it also meant business was not always done according to the laws of Man and the Galactic Order. This areas were referred to as the Rim Frontier. In the Rim Frontier previously unknown worlds and races could be found, sometimes new discoveries that could mean great fortunes for the discoverer or for the being who last possessed the discovery. It was not uncommon for officers who served in the Rim Frontier to return to their families telling stories of places and races never heard of before. To learn of these places and races, the Galactic Order invested incredible resources but with the vastness of Man’s known space, there was always much that was not yet known.

It was there, in the Rim Frontier that Man first encountered a race that Man called the Grindill. Tall bipedal creatures about 2.5 meters tall (about 8 feet) with two long appendages similar to arms, three finger like appendages on the end of each ‘arm’ and with thick leathery skin the color of dark brown bordering on black. The head of the Grindill is very similar to Man except for the lack of hair and a raised bulge on both sides of the head where a Man would have ears. A Grindill’s two eyes are large lidless ovals the color of dark rubies and the mouth contained double rows of sharp pointed teeth. An imposing image no doubt, but the Grindill tended to be quiet, patient, and watchful, letting others get used to his presence. Only a few had ever been seen and almost never in groups larger than two, never saying much about themselves, seeming to be simply passing by. Most people simply noted them as one of many unusual species seen in the Rim Frontier and went on about their business. It wasn’t until later that many wished more had been learned about the Grindill right from the start.

When two automated refueling stations disappeared without a trace, the Galactic Order sent a scout vessel to investigate. When that vessel was utterly destroyed leaving no survivors or records of any kind, the Galactic Order learned an unknown type of energy weapon had been used, but nothing else. Just seven days later, 2,000 large warships of unknown design using weapons previously unknown to Man suddenly appeared in close proximity to key Galactic Order bases throughout Man’s known space. The assaults were brutal and decisive, leaving very few survivors. Quickly the Galactic Order gathered her warships together to fight the intruders. Even as the Galactic Order vessels hastily gathered, hundreds of the enemy warships emerged next to the gathering of Galactic vessels. Laying waste to the Galactic Order’s fleet left the Order mortally wounded. In a last desperate attempt to survive, the few remaining ships were ordered to flee and hide if possible. Among those last few ships were five of the biggest and finest warships the Galactic Order had ever designed. The Delta Class vessels incorporated all the latest technology, information banks, facilities, and weaponry, which made each one nearly a star base all by itself. The Orion was the biggest and newest of the Delta Class ships and when her and her sister ships along with a few smaller vessels raced away the enemy ships pursued them. By what means the enemy ships were able to vanish and then emerge great distances away, the Galactic Order did not know. In normal space, the Galactic Order ships were faster and could elude the enemy ships but the enemy would vanish and then emerge in the pathway of the Galactic Order vessels. In this manner the last of the Galactic Order ships were hunted down and destroyed, except for three. The Merrimac lost directional control after colliding with an enemy ship and fell into a sun. The Laffey was probably destroyed by self-destruct when cornered in a deserted solar system. The self-destruct explosion also destroyed the enemy vessels that pursued her. The Orion managed to elude her pursuers three times only to be found again shortly afterwards. She vanished while being pursued in a large asteroid field. Without an explosion or wreckage to show her demise, the Grindills searched for sixty solar days before abandoning the search. It was said the Grindills had kept looking because they had found the crew of the Orion abandoned on a habitable world which meant the Orion had not been destroyed, but they died in a large explosion as the Grindills approached. It is told the Orion was hidden and someday will return carrying a weapon capable of defeating the Grindills.

That was 300 years ago.

Chapter 1, Part 1

“Take ‘em back.” Pointing his big beefy hand at the large pile of mismatched space crates next to the entrance of the loading bay, the large bearded man made sure the too-thin trader had no doubts there would be no deal. “Woonie, my mamma could get me better durium ore than that, and it still wouldn’t be good enough. I can’t use it and it won’t sell.”

“Fred,” the skinny trader slid his oily eyes towards the space crates in question, “The good stuff is harder to get since the Grindill started mining the Norpen systems. I’ll drop 10% more off.”

“The answer would still be no.” Fred replied curtly. “Woonie. You want some dacs and you know I’d make a deal if I could, but times are tough and low grade durium ore just doesn’t sell right now.” Glancing back at the space crates he sighed. “Look, I like ya, so I’ll make ya a deal. Go down to the Drop Zone and get a real job there for a couple weeks serving tables or something. Save up the dacs from that and build a kiln for yourself. Refine the ore a bit and if you can get it up to 20% purity, then we’ll talk.”

Woonie frowned. “You know I won’t be workin’ no lousy job like that and if I did, after kilning only 10% would be left. I’d hardly get anything.”

Fred shrugged, “That’s why I won’t take it. It ain’t worth it. Now get it out of here. I need that space for cargo that’s worth something.” Turning his back on the skinny trader, Fred headed towards the door of the loading bay’s clerk office, gesturing to the clerk inside what his decision with Woonie had been. Woonie’s oily eyes followed Fred as Fred went inside the clerk’s office. Stepping to the space crates, he slipped a small slender object from inside his flight suit vest pocket, flicked a tiny switch. A small green light changed to a blinking red. A wicked smile danced across if face as Woonie stole one more glance back at the clerk office. Slipping the device back into his vest pocket, he shuffled out the door.

Inside the clerk office, Fred was staring at the clerk’s screen. “What do you mean it doesn’t show anything?” He snapped at the clerk.

“Well…” the harried clerk stammered, “I was just inventorying the stuff delivered by the Harriman just an hour ago, and just as you came through the door all the numbers jumped to zero. I re-checked the data links and everything looks fine, but the numbers are still all zeros. How can that be?”

Looking out the clerk office bay windows at the stacked rows of materials in the big warehouse, Fred rubbed his grizzled chin. “Hmmm. Data links seem ok, but no data registers, would suggest the sensors not registering materials present.” Looking up at the data nodes spaced regularly across the high ceiling of the warehouse, he could just see the tiny indicator lights on the modules near this end of the warehouse. “Why would it not detect the materials?”

“Sir,” the clerk interrupted, “The sensors just detect the tags attached to the materials. If they don’t detect the tags, all they report is zeros.”

“Since it was fine until just a moment ago, something has changed.” Glancing at the loading bay entrance, Fred’s brow furrowed. “Woonie just left. His crates are the newest arrivals” Puzzled, he turned back to the clerk’s display. Pull up a hi-res scan of Woonie’s crates.”

Immediately, the clerk’s eyes opened wide. “Sir, that’s against the law. It’d have to be authorized.”

“I’ll authorize.” Fred snapped. “If I’m right, we’ll have plenty of reason.”

Turning back to his display, the clerk punched in the commands to initiate a hi-res scan. A flat security panel next to the display beeped and flashed red. Fred placed his hand, palm down on the panel, a moment later it flashed green and turned off. The clerk’s screen re-arranged to show a hi-detail rendering of Woonie’s crates. Each crate appeared transparent with renderings of the durium ore they contained. Gently nudging the clerk aside, Fred reached for the controls and rotated the rendering around until he had narrowed in on a crate that appeared to have something square inside. Touching another control, the display targeted the item and in a moment text detailing the object scrolled down the left of the display. Finally it stopped, and displayed in red highlighted letters “Unknown device”, Underneath that a progress bar appeared labeled “Energy output”. The progress bar was mostly empty and then it started to fill, faster and faster.

“Get down!” Fred hollered as he suddenly turned and pushed the startled clerk to the floor. At that moment, Woonie’s crates exploded in a violent ball of fire, the concussion blowing out all the windows of the clerk office, bursting the door open, scattering papers, materials, furniture, glass, and burning durium everywhere.

Picking themselves up from the debris of what had been to clerk’s office, they quickly looked around. Woonie’s crates were gone. All that was left was a smoky ruin of loading bay wall and floor. All around was bits of burning durium ore, some was even smoldering on nearby stacks of materials. The wall previously between them and Woonie’s crates was gone.

“Check the security system, initiate emergency lockdown. Then check the computers.” Fred shouted to the clerk who was slapping at his ears, obviously stunned by the explosion. The clerk nodded he understood. Quickly stepping over debris, Fred reached for the fire alarm on the nearby by wall. As the klaxon blared, Fred assessed the damage. This warehouse was definitely going to be closed while the required investigation took place. Fred swore. Investigations always took much too long and the loss of shipping traffic would be very bad. Why would Woonie bring in a load like that? Woonie was small time. Intentionally shutting down a warehouse wouldn’t do him any good, Woonie’s presence here is on the automatic official record. This would only land Woonie in jail for a long time, or worse. No, this had to be something else, something bigger, and Woonie just a pawn. But what?

“Sir! The computer terminal is still working!” The clerk’s surprised shout cut through Fred’s thoughts.

“Really? Quickly check the inventory! See if we’re getting any readings.” Stumbling back over the mess, Fred reached the clerk’s side. The clerk’s hands fairly flew over the controls.

This time the clerk swore. “It still shows zeros! It’s as if the sensors can’t read anything!”

“We’re being jammed.” Fred stated matter of fact. It all made sense now, but what was being hidden? Why still jam after the explosion? Unless… “Bring up the hi-res scan controls, quickly!” Blinking from the acrid smoke from the smoldering durium ore, the clerk obliged. Fred brushed debris off the security panel and placed his hand on it. As it went green, he quickly punched in commands bringing up the full warehouse. Immediately a warning flashed on the screen “WARNING: About to scan entire site in violatition of local law. Are you sure? Yes/No” Fred touched “Yes” and the screen displayed “Please wait”. Impatiently, Fred and the clerk watched intently. After a moment the screen cleared and re-drew this time filling in details about the containers and the many rows of materials.

“Woah!” The clerk breathed. “Wait, how come this shows what’s out there? The regular scan said there wasn’t anything there?”

“It’s a different system, completely separate.” Fred replied, quickly scanning the display. Something had to be there that shouldn’t be. What didn’t belong? Then he saw it. Incredulously, five moving figures had entered on opening in the back warehouse wall. The warehouse had no such opening normally. The figures were moving towards the third row of material stacks. There was defiantly something there the figures were after.

Turning to the clerk, Fred said; “You trained on hand weapons?” Blinking, the clerk looked up at him and nodded. Pushing debris away from the cabinet under the computer, Fred wiped dust off it’s lock pad and punched in his code. With a pop and a hiss, the door slid aside, revealing three hand stunners. Grabbing one, Fred handed the other to the clerk. “Come on, we gotta stop them!”

Quickly stepping over the debris, they stepped out of ruins of the clerk office and ran down the rows of materials, away from the ruined warehouse entrance and office. After 15 rows, they were nearing row 3 when Fred slowed down and gestured to the clerk to hold up. Panting heavily, the slightly built clerk stopped next to Fred. Carefully glancing around the stacks of materials Fred stole a look between rows 3 and 4. No sign of any motion. Quickly moving up to row 3, Fred flattened against the container stacks at the end of the row and carefully peeked around the corner. About halfway down the long row between rows 2 and 3, a small group of figures huddled around a large crate that had been pulled out. Pulling back, Fred signaled to the clerk to carefully move down the row between rows 4 and 3. As the clerk quietly moved on, Fred took a quick look to make sure no one in the group was looking his way and quickly stepped across to the end of row 2. The klaxon of the fire alarm still blared and the pulsing red emergency alert lights made the shadows dance and move. Entire rows seemed to sway in the unearthly light. Listening to be sure he’d not been seen, Fred paused. With the noise of the alarms still ringing, whoever it was could be right on top of him and Fred might not have heard him. Stepping lightly anyway, Fred carefully proceeded down row 2, hoping to come up behind the group.

Halfway to the group, the fire alarm klaxon suddenly stopped. Fred froze as the warehouse seemed to suddenly fill with an intense silence. Then he heard sounds of the fire retardant sprays. The emergency crews had arrived and shut off the alarms. Soon the burning remains of the explosion would be extinguished and then the emergency crews would begin their examination. A cold chill ran down Fred’s back as he realized the crews would have to inspect the entire warehouse and that meant whoever was just ahead of him would be in a hurry to leave. Quickening his pace, he quietly moved towards the place the group had been huddled.

Suddenly a sharp cry of pain rang out and was quickly stifled by whoever had hurt himself. Great! Fred thought miserably to himself. The clerk must have stubbed his toe. So much for that. Fred heard some startled voices and running feet. Taking a quick breath, Fred braced himself and then ran hard for the gap in the row ahead of him just about where the group had been huddled. Coming to the gap, Fred turned and with his stunner at the ready, slid to a stop expecting to see whoever it was. There was no one. A large 2 x 3 meter container sat there, opened, and even with the meter tall sides of the container, Fred could see a smaller metallic container nearly the same size inside. Moving closer, Fred could not see markings of any kind on the metallic container. Making a step back away from the opened container, Fred froze as he felt the cold tip of a hand laser press against the back of his neck.

“Hold still.” Came the unfamiliar voice behind Fred. “Pretty sharp discovering us so quickly. Too bad it won’t do you much good. Too bad I can’t let you stay here, either.” With a resounding thump, something hit Fred on the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor and was unaware of anything.

Chapter 1, Part 2

... As great swirls of murky darkness seemed to wrap around him, he struggled to find a surface to grip and stop the spinning, his arms and legs stiff yet moving as if in think, heavy liquid … THUD !!

“Whoa! Hold up there!” came un unfamiliar voice, very near, cutting through the heavy fog swirling in Fred’s brain and piercing the sharp pain where Fred’s ear had been between his head and a hard surface. “Now hold still and you’ll be alright. Keep knocking about and you’ll only make it worse.”

“Nick! What’s going on back there?” Came a more distant voice that seemed to have an electronic edge as if from a comm system. Fred snapped alert. That was the voice of that stranger at the container in the warehouse!

Fighting the disorientation in his head, Fred held still, blinking his eyes to clear his vision and assess his surroundings. He was lying on cool deck plating in what appeared to be a small room, probably a cargo room of a small vessel. A steady, low hum and vibration seemed to come from above and was felt easily through deck plating. A thin, ratty man that hadn't shaved in too many weeks was leaning over him, one hand holding Fred where he was at, the other hand filled with a deadly looking hand weapon.

“It’s OK, Boss.” Drawled the thin, ratty man. “Our guest is waking up. Guess he thought he was in a fight. Want me to put him back to sleep some more?”

After a brief pause, ‘Boss’ replied, the voice filtering down the passage through the hatchway into the room. “Nah, Let him wake up. Not like there's anywhere for him to go.”

Moving to a flight bench near the entrance, Nick grinned at Fred but kept the weapon aimed at Fred's chest. "Alright fella, now you just stay put and don't try anything. Would be a shame to mess up the place." He sat down and lazily strapped in.

Carefully moving his limbs, Fred checked himself. Nothing broken or hurt, except for a bump on the head where his ear still stung. Gently easing himself into a sitting position, Fred leaned back on the wall behind him and took another look around.

The ship hull he rested against was nearly covered with marks and scars from cargo crates and materials from what surely had been a long life hauling cargo. Every two feet a series of indentations dimpled the hull wall from floor to ceiling, each recess containing retaining moors for securing cargo from the rigors of travel. Near the forward section hung several cargo nets, their straps and hooks swaying and rattling against the hull and walls of the small cargo ship. Next to them lining the forward wall was a set of flight benches, just comfortable enough to be endured by crew hands for short cargo hops. The forward hatchway opened in the middle of the forward wall. The opposite wall, just a couple feet from Fred was entirely one large space door with thick sturdy hinges, the dull gleam of space door seals completely encircling the edges. Fred and the ratty man called Nick were the only persons in the hold, the cargo hold was empty except for a solitary cargo container no larger than a personal luggage case, partially obscured by the cargo netting that secured it.

Turning his gaze back to Nick sitting lazily on a flight bench, Fred spoke, "Who are you people and where are you taking me?"

"You just wait and you'll find out enough, if Boss decides to tell you."

"Huh. That's not very re-assuring, is it?" Fred retorted dryly. "I must have gotten in your way."

Several minutes went by with little change except small changes in the hum and vibration from the nearby engines, somewhere above them.

Fred decided to see what he could find out. "Can't possibly be going fast enough to be an escape vehicle and the O'Tornell patrols are pretty good for a 'back-water' planet along the shipping lines." He spoke matter-of-fact. Letting his captors know he wasn't a wet-behind-the-ears planet bound land-lubber might work in his favor.

Nick's weapon had shifted to a casual position a while ago, now it snapped back to careful aim at Fred's chest. "You figured that out all by your self? Here I thought some hot-shot dock worker." Nick eyed him disinterestedly. Didn't look like Fred was going to have much luck with Nick.

"I don't suppose you'll let me use the head, would ..."

The overhead comm system interrupted. "All hands, prepare for overlap maneuvers in ten seconds." came the voice of 'Boss'.

Gesturing with his weapon, Nick gestured the flight bench at the other side of the hatch. "Alright, get over there and you'll be able to hang on better. This could get bumpy. Be quick now."

Quickly, Fred got on the flight bench and strapped himself in, thankful this cargo ship had artificial gravity. Just in time. As Fred secured his safety strap, the hold seemed to suddenly stand on end and the engine vibration suddenly thrummed with heavy vibration. Bracing himself to keep from bouncing his already sore head against the hull, he felt the cargo ship pull several turns and banks obviously under heavy thrust and well into the upper reaches of design limits for just about any cargo ship. This ship had been surely been modified. Nick appeared to be wishing he could sleep, obviously this was nothing new to him.

The comm again crackled to life. "Overlap maneuvers complete in 5 seconds. Destination in 15 minutes. Make sure we didn't lose anything or anyone."

Nick chuckled. "You still here? Not sure what the Boss is thinking but it seems he has something special in mind for you."

Ignoring Nick, Fred settled in to wait. There was nothing else to do. After what seemed an eternity, the engines suddenly dropped to a soft buzz and the artificial gravity shifted slightly giving a momentary floating feeling. Glancing at Nick who seemed to be trying to sleep, Fred noticed the weapon had vanished. Carefully easing himself nearer the open hatch, Fred tried to peer down the passage but didn't see anything. The passage curved the other way. Turning his gaze back to Nick, Fred started. The cold tip of Nick's weapon was just inches from his head with Nick completely alert and intently watching Fred. Appearing to try to sleep was just a ruse and Fred had fallen for it.

"Something interests you?" Nick sneered.

Frustrated, Fred tried hard to keep his growing anger in check. "Apparently, nothing at the moment." Sitting up on the flight bench, Fred leaned back and relaxed.

"Very good." Nick leaned back on his flight bench and lowered the weapon but didn't put it away.

A few moments later the engines softened to a gentle hum and a new vibration briefly shook the cargo ship. Fred guessed it was probably mooring beams, used to guide ships into a landing bay. Soon nearly all sensation of vibration stopped followed by a light bump felt through the deck plates, then the engines completely shut down.

"Well, we're here." remarked Nick, already standing up from the flight bench. Aiming his weapon at Fred, he gestured for Fred to stand up, which Fred did carefully. Whatever these people had in mind for Fred, he would know soon.

"Nick?" The voice of 'Boss' sounded at the hatchway. Fred turned to the hatchway and looked into piercing grey eyes, shadowed by dark bushy eyebrows. 'Boss' was as tall as Fred and very slender but seemed to radiate a hidden strength and force. Light sandy hair carefully pulled back and tied in a single tail behind his head in the fashion of ancient oriental disciplines, 'Boss' stood in the hatchway carefully sizing up Fred. This 'Boss' was obviously in charge and knew it.

"Nick?" 'Boss' repeated, "How is our guest? Did he give you any trouble?"

"No trouble at all." Nick replied, sounded subdued.

"Good. Let's go. I'm hungry." Turning on his heel, 'Boss' went back down the passage.

Nick smiled at Fred and gestured with his weapon for Fred to proceed down the passage. The hatch was merely a doorway at the end of a hall. Three hatches opened to the hall like the hatch Fred had just stepped through. Across from the center hatch a larger passage revealed accommodations for crew and gear used on the cargo vessel. That passage opened to a room with sleeping bunks, lockers, and a washroom. The other side of the passage opened to what looked like a multipurpose room used for meals, recreation, and whatever was needed for the crew while traveling long distances. Spread across one of the tables was several star charts. At the end of the passage an open hatch revealed the primary control on the cargo ship, the pilot's seat and the co-pilot's and the controls of a standard 3-bay Monrovid cargo ship. Fred subconsciously stopped to gaze at the cockpit. What caught his eye was a bundle of gear sitting between the pilot and copilot seats that obviously didn't match the gear of this model of ship. A sudden prod in his back.

"Hey, no sight seeing!" Nick growled. "To your left."

Fred turned and stepped through the open airlock to the outside of the cargo ship. Blinking from sudden brightness, Fred looked around. The landing bay was pretty large. On his left, spanning the entire width and height of the bay, a space force field hummed and crackled with energy, keeping the bay pressurized from the cold vacuum of space. In front of Fred and parked parallel to the ship they had arrived in, two more 3-bay Monrovid cargo ships were being serviced and looked like they were being unloaded. A common design, the Monrovid ships are well favored with their overhead engine design allowing easy loading and unloading. Ahead of the cargo ships were two imposing light battle cruisers, both appearing to fairly bristle with weapon points. Further back behind them sat a single ship easily the size of both of the cruisers. The cruisers and the big ship filled most of the landing bay with very little space between the tops of their hulls and the roof of the bay. Fred had never seen any thing like the big ship, but had read about ships like the light battle cruisers in the reports of the battles with the Quinzin Triad, an alien race that thrived on raiding remote outposts by vastly over powering their victims and then fleeing away before stronger help arrived.

"Come on! This ain't no tour!" Nick's voice growled behind him and the weapon jabbed Fred in the ribs. "Past these cargo ships and through the air lock."

Trudging forward, they walked to the airlock and stepped inside. Walking past a variety of space environment suits and numerous tools, they stepping into a well lit hallway. On the right or door opened to the bay control room from which 'Boss' was stepping through.

"Ah! Still with us. Good." He smiled. "Nick, Put a tracker on him and take him to Jeneve. She'll want to patch up that knot on his head. Then take him to the 'guest' quarters. Give him the nice one but make sure to post guards. We don't want him wandering off." Glancing back out to the landing bay, he continued, "I'll tend to him a bit later." Then he turned towards the bay.

"Hey, Excuse me!" Fred blurted.

Stopping, then slowly turning to face Fred, he said, "Yes? Some thing on your mind?"

"Yes, my freedom." Fred retorted. "I don't know why you've taken me, where you're taking me, or even who you people are. I don't know what you want and I'm pretty sure it isn't legal. Now why don't you quit trying to play games with me, be straight with me and tell me what is going on."

Giving Fred a contemplative look, his grey eyes pierced into Fred a moment, then he shrugged. "Ah, why not?" Pausing for just a moment, his grey eyes revealing nothing he continued. "You are on the Black Ruby, ever heard of it?"

"The Black Ruby? The... Black... Ruby?" Fred stammered. "Sure, I've heard about it, but the rumor is that it's just another wild story from out on the Rims."

"Why would it be a wild story?" 'Boss' said, his eyes darkening.

Uncertain, Fred continued, "I mean no offense, it's just that this couldn't be the Black Ruby, it's somewhere out in the Rims, and supposedly it can hide in plain view from even the best of the Grindill ships."

"That's true, and it was in the Rims until just a couple days ago." He replied, the piercing grey eyes burrowing into Fred.

"Then... if this is the Black Ruby... then you must be..." Fred stopped, his blood running cold.

"Yes, go on."

"Then you'd be ... Jarman Steed. The Rim pirate."

Chapter 1 Part 3

When the Grindill invaded the regions of Man's known space, the Grindill first assaulted the Galactic Order's Fleet, taking them by surprise with a devastating blow. When a remnant of the Galactic Order's Fleet escaped to regroup, the Grindill sent a large force to pursue the fleeing Galactic Order ships, while the bulk of the Grindill armada separated and dispersed in many very small groups. The small groups of Grindill ships each went directly to strategic Galactic Order outposts. Most of the outposts had been left largely unprotected with only minimal Galactic Order support while the bulk of the Galactic Order had vainly attempted to battle the Grindill armada. The outposts quickly fell, leaving the remaining Galactic Order holdings without any support or protection.

With the complete collapse of the Galactic Order, all of the known space of Man fell into economic ruin and disarray. Whole systems and star clusters suddenly had no contact with the rest of known space. Some banded together with other nearby systems, some formed alliances with others. Others isolated themselves in an attempt to protect themselves from the marauding bands that raided the helpless and poorly defended. Some ceased to exist, abandoned or destroyed in the chaos that resulted in the collapse of the Galactic Order. The Grindill, to their credit, attempted to organize a government of Man's known space but the Grindill quickly found themselves totally unable to govern any more than a sizable portion of the millions of systems that constituted the known space of Man, leaving vast reaches of space without any governing force of any kind. What the Grindill did manage to govern, they governed with fear, cruelty and force. Where the Grindill did not reign, anarchy and chaos continued, the strong survived by force either by defending themselves or by taking from other's governing presence. From the ashes of the Galactic Order rose a notorious band of pirates. There were many groups who turned to piracy in those days with the absence of any reasonable law and order, preying on the misfortune of others. With the galactic economy of Man in ruins, and the constant threat of piracy to content with, much of the of what the race of Man had accomplished was lost. Often only the strong survived and of the strong, many chose to cooperate with the Grindill, if only to survive. In these perilous times, a particularly notorious band of pirates arose. However, the "Rim Pirates" had a 'code of honor' most unusual for pirates. The Rim Pirates only targeted those who collaborated with the Grindill or those who built their success at the expense of the poor or helpless. Elusive and mysterious, the Rim Pirates successfully escaped the grasp of the Grindill at nearly every turn and those Rim Pirates that fell into the hands of the Grindill always destroyed themselves rather than risk the other Rim Pirates. Naturally, they became the stuff of legend and story, loved and honored on some worlds, hated and despised on others, always being hunted by the Grindill. Rarely actually seen, always striking with complete surprise, always quickly disappearing, the Rim Pirates made themselves a thorn in the Grindill's side.

As the years wore by, the Rim Pirates kept up their game of cat and mouse with the Grindill. The Grindill eventually tired of trying to capture or destroy the Rim Pirates, and chose to target the very people the Rim Pirates tried to help. The Grindill made their intentions clear when the Rim Pirates raided a large food shipment headed for a Grindill base and delivered the food to three nearby planets inhabited by impoverished human refugees. The Grindill encountered one of the Rim Pirate transports as it was leaving the vicinity, but ignored the transport. Instead of pursuing the fleeing Rim Pirates, the Grindill turned their weapons on the three planets (known as the Troyian system) and laid down relentless assault fire from orbit for a duration of seven solar days. The few refugees that were still alive, lived only a few days after the Grindill left, just long enough to tell the tale. After that, the Rim Pirates seemed to vanish, later to return to again trouble the Grindills, using hit and run tactics, never leaving a trail to any beneficiaries of their efforts. Three hundred years after the fall of the Galactic Order, the Rim Pirates are still rumored, some believe the rumors, some don't. Others think rumors of Rim Pirates are only masquerading thieves.

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"You're Jarman Steed!" Fred said, his mind racing with questions. "This is the Rim Pirates. What were you doing at my warehouse? Is the company doing business with the Grindill? Why did you attack us? Why did you take me? Isn't this place a bit out of your usual area? What were you after? Wha-"

"Whoa! Hold up there! One question at a time!" Jarman laughed, "Yes, I'm Jarman Steed, we are the 'Rim Pirates' as you called us, and you are aboard the Black Ruby." Jarman paused and looked directly into Fred's eyes. "Now you know who we are. We already know who you are. You're Fred Joseph, a supervisor of Warehouse 42 for the Core Supplies Company. Even though Core Supplies does some 'routine' business with the Grindill, you personally have no affiliation with the Grindill. You don't have any family, at least none living and you live alone. You keep mostly to yourself, but you do have a few friends. You are rarely late for work, and you have an outstanding work history. You were offered promotions three times but you turned them down each time and never explained why. Did I miss anything?"

"Ah," Fred stammered, slightly embarrassed. "You know an awful lot about me. Why?"

Jarman shrugged, "Always plan your jobs well."

"So-, so why are you here?" Fred asked. "Why were you doing at the warehouse, and what was in that crate you were poking around with?"

Jarman sized up Fred, contemplating. "Tell you what. You save your questions for about... an hour, and then you can ask me again. Meanwhile, Nick is taking you to Jeneve. Jeneve is going to put a 'tracker' on you. Then Nick will take you to your quarters where you can clean up and maybe get a bite to eat." Turning to Nick he continued. "Nick, get him to 'Conference 1' in an hour." Jarman turned back to Fred and paused, watching Fred closely. "Will that be acceptable for now?"

Fred bit his lip, wanting desperately to ask a hundred questions. He was now in the hands of the Rim Pirates and the notorious Jarman Steed, known throughout space for their exploits against the Grindill and daring acts of piracy. "Well, OK." then he added "I'll be expecting some good answers."

Jarman chuckled. "You going to start giving me orders? Bringing you here was my order. Wait that one hour."

"Understood." Fred nodded.

"Good." Jarman turned to Nick. "Nick, quit lazing around and get him to Jeneve. Keep and eye on him."

"Gotcha Boss." Nick said. "Come on, let's go." Prodding Fred's back, Nick directed Fred down a side passage. Glancing back Fred saw Jarman turn towards the bay control room while a technician waved a datapad at Jarman.

After just a few strides down the passage, they turned down another passage and stepped into a large, well lit room. The well stocked Infirmary featured Along the left side several diagnostic beds lined the wall with diagnostic and medical equipment neatly ready in abundance. Just inside the door on the same side a large desk teeming with medical monitors greeted them. A large dark woman with a warm smile greeted them from behind the desk and gestured towards one of the empty beds.

Appraising Fred from head to toe, she spoke to Nick "Who brings you to me this time, Nick?" Humor danced delightfully in her dark eyes.

"Jeneve, Boss wants you to check him and put a tracker on him." Nick replied, not wanting to be baited. "Brought him along with us from the job to O'Tornell."

"He looks alright to me, just a little bump on the head, but we'll take a look just for sure." Gesturing to one of the diagnostic beds, she waved Fred to lay down. "I heard that job didn't go as planned. Is this tall one the reason?" Activating the bed's diagnostics she set to work.

"Everything went exactly as planned up until the distraction." Nick grumbled. "The fool trader was supposed to just cause a distraction. Instead, he nearly blew half the warehouse to bits. This galoot and some hired kid was nearly snuffed." Nick paused, obviously considering what to say next. "Then they tried to sneak up on us. Boss said to take them with us."

"A prisoner? Why?" Jeneve asked, concern furrowed her brow. "You said there was a kid, too?" Jeneve studied the readout from a diagnostic wand she was waving over injury on Fred's head.

"Still in holding. Boss hasn't said what to do with him."

"Well, if he's gonna stay as well, he'll have to see me sooner or later." Jeneve closed the cover of the diagnostic wand with a snap and flicked off the Diagnostic bed and spoke to Fred. "You'll be fine, I'll give you a little something you're going to need. A little concoction in case you bump into one of the nasty bugs we sometimes come across. This universe is not exactly the tidiest place. You can sit up now." She walked over to a nearby cabinet and started prepping an injection. "After that, I'll give you the tracker."

"What's the tracker like?" Fred asked.

Without turning towards Fred, she continued prepping the injection. "The tracker is just a little crystal chip we insert just under the right pectoral muscle, enter just under the armpit. After a day you won't even notice it. It lets us track you should you get into trouble or try to run away. We use it on everyone."

Fred frowned. Interesting, he thought. Already he knew the Pirates had planned the events at the warehouse and that it hadn't gone as the Pirates had planned. He also knew the Pirates could find each other easily using a method probably unknown to the Grindill. Now Fred would be able to be found just as easily.

Jeneve walked back over to Fred and in a quick practiced motion administered the painless sub dermal injection. Smiling, she commented "There, that wasn't so bad now was it? Just wait until a few hours from now when it kicks in." Chuckling she continued, "Just holler if it gets too much for you. Nick will make sure you know how to reach me. Right, Nick?" She gave Nick a stern warning glance. Apparently Nick hadn't always done that.

"Ah, Jeneve, you take all the fun out of it." Nick rolled his eyes playfully. "That feller would have been alright if he'd just stayed in his bunk."

"But he didn't and if he'd gone a couple feet closer to that dynamo we would have been picking him up with a spoon." She replied disapprovingly.

"You gotta admit, it was pretty funny." He playfully returned.

"Ok, ya got me on that one. Just don't try it again, especially with this one." Glancing at Fred appraisingly, "He looks strong enough to tear your ears off with his bear hands, if you didn't have that ion pistol."

Nick frowned, not liking the implication. "Huh, maybe. Look, ya done with him yet?"

"Just hold your shonahs a moment. I'm almost done." In her hands she was loading a small black pellet about the size of Fred's little finger's nail into what looked like a modifier power riveter. "We don't want this going clean through his body, do we?" Tugging at Fred's shirt, she exposed Fred's right chest side and carefully aimed the riveter at the soft just under his armpit. "Easy now, there."

With a faint hiss and pop, the riveter discharged and Fred felt a sudden thud that made his muscles spasm for a moment.

"Ok you two." Jeneve smiled. "It was nice to meet you, now both of you run along now. Call me if Nick tries something stupid."

With that, Nick gestured with his ion pistol towards the door. "Turn right down the hall. Next stop, your quarters here at the 'Black Ruby Ritz."

The quarters Nick put Fred in was a lot bigger than Fred had expected. It was small of course, since it was designed for just one occupant, but it sported a desk with a terminal and comm station, a comfortable sitting chair, small personal food locker, gear closet/rack, washroom, simple toiletries, and room for some personal effects. The terminal didn't function, as Fred expected. Prisoners should not be allowed to access the ship systems. There were three pairs of grey auto-adjust coveralls. Pretty standard accommodations for bottom of the pecking order ship crewmen.

After taking a casual look around the room, discreetly looking for hidden monitoring devices, Fred made use of the washroom, then changed into one of the ugly grey coveralls. Finding the discreetly hidden activation button, Fred grimaced as the coveralls automatically adjusted to a size too small then relaxed to fit Fred comfortably. Flexing his muscles and expanding his chest and gut, Fred touched the activation button once more and the coveralls adjust too small again, but this time relaxed to a size Fred could be more comfortable with. Glancing at the time displayed on the desk comm station, he still had a little bit before Nick was due back to take him back to Jarman.

Laying down on the standard too firm bed, Fred relaxed and let his mind concentrate on what he'd seen and how he might get out of this predicament. Jarman Steed and the Rim Pirates were indeed famous, but most of what Fred had heard was rumors. Some good, some really bad. Once, many years ago, the Rim Pirates had been known as crusaders against the Grindill but in recent years not much had been heard and some had speculated that the Grindill had finally got them. Others figured the Rim Pirates had finally turned to just being pirates. From what Fred had seen, the Black Ruby was very big and the Rim Pirates seemed to be very comfortable. Something just didn't seem right about that to Fred. Why had they been in his warehouse? What had they been after? Why didn't they leave Fred and the clerk there? Fred cursed himself for not having gotten the clerk's name. He had worked with that clerk an number of times and the clerk had done well when they'd nearly been blown up at the warehouse.

Bong! That had to be the doorbell. Time to try to get some answers.

Chapter 1, Part 4

Touching the door open pad, the cabin door slid softly aside revealing three persons in the corridor looking back at Fred. Nick's deadly little ion pistol rested comfortably in Nick's grip, steadily aimed in the direction of Fred's midsection. Standing quietly behind Nick were two rather large men in dark jump suits. Obviously, their purpose was not for Fred's comfort.

Grinning wickedly, Nick idly commented, "All settled in?"

"Lousy view." Fred frowned. "You should wash the windows better."

Nick's grin disappeared while one of the men behind him snickered softly. "You're going this way." He said, gesturing with the ion pistol.

Starting down the corridor, Fred took his time. "Do I need to find where we're going, or are you going to show the way?"

"Go to the end, turn right. On the left will be some large windows. Just after them, second door on your right." Nick mumbled.

The corridor was fairly long with doors evenly spaced apart with a variety of names on the door plaques. Small plaques adorned the center of each door boldly emblazoned with names and what were probably nicknames or call signs favored by the door's owner. Obviously these were some of the crew quarters. At the end of the corridor, it connected with a wider corridor that stretched some distance in both directions. Fred noted it was probably one of the primary corridors in the bowels of the Black Ruby. That might be useful later. Turning right at Nick's prodding, Fred continued. Ahead a short distance the corridor widened further on the left to accommodate what appeared to be a kind of viewing area. Large windows of hardened pressure glass with regular spaced heavy support frames lined the viewing area. Angled out at the top, obviously the view was from above whatever took place below. A few padded seats and chairs added comfort to the viewing area with two raised seats placed at the prime view. Terminals, control panels, and communication gear adorned the framework at the two raised chairs. Fred's curiosity piqued, he casually let his walk drift closer as they approached. Nick instantly prodded Fred to stay on the right of the corridor, squashing Fred's hopes of examining the view out the windows. Past the viewing area, they arrived at two doors marked "Conference 2" and "Conference 1" and proceeded through the open door of Conference 1.

Conference 1 was packed to nearly standing room only. Possibly 50 persons were crowded in the dark wood paneled room. In the center, a large rectangular table stretched most of the length of the room. At the far end of the table, obviously the commanding seat sat Jarman Steed. Adorning the mahogany colored table, embedded terminals and data interfaces gleaming with activity were positioned evenly around the entire table. Stacks of papers, charts, and data pads littered nearly the entire table. Perhaps twenty persons sat nearly elbow to elbow around the table, several of them sharing the same terminal. Behind the people surrounding the table, in chairs packed closely together, crowed people in lab coats, work jumpers, flight suits, and even a pair still in environment suits. Positioned at the precise center of the table sat a complicated block of electronics. Wires and data fiber lines dangled in all directions from it. A couple of the table terminals appeared to be attached to some of the lines and a variety of interface tools were scattered around it. Obviously the object was of great importance. At the end of the table, nearest the entrance, with no data terminal, sat a solitary empty chair. Feeling Nick's prodding against his back, Fred sat down in the solitary chair. At that moment, all activity in the room seemed to cease as all eyes swiveled to study the man in the solitary chair. Fred could only gaze at the object in the middle. Appearing very old, the object seemed to be of both out-dated design and of unknown design. A soft glow and faint hum revealed an active internal power source while much of it appeared to be inert. That wasn't what had Fred's attention. Emblazoned on a smooth panel, in bold letters "G.O.S.S. Orion" could be read. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

"Welcome, Fred." Jarman's voice suddenly boomed across the silence, shocking Fred's attention away from the mysterious object. "We've been waiting for you." Gesturing expansively, Jarman indicated the others in the room, "These people are the crew of the 'Black Ruby' and are the leaders of what you call the 'Rim Pirates'. I'd introduce them individually, but that would take too long." Waving his hand to indicate Fred, he addressed the crew, "Gentlemen, our 'guest', Fred Joseph. Newly arrived from O'Tornell." A rumble of half mumbled greetings from the crew members new Fred, and whispered comments among the crew scattered like a wave of water on the shore, and then silence again reigned.

"Fred," Jarman's eyes seemed to pierce across the table and bore into Fred and his hand gestured to the object on the table, "We would like to know how it is that this piece of hardware came to be in your Warehouse. What do you know about it? How was it listed in the Warehouse manifest? Who was shipping it and what was it's destination?"

Fred swallowed as the eyes of nearly everyone in the room seemed bore into him. The silence had become deathly still as even the walls seemed to have leaned in closer to hear the answers to those questions.

"I don't think I can answer all that." Fred croaked out. Pointing at the object, Fred asked, "I assume this was in that crate you had opened just before you put out my lights?"

"That's correct." Jarman replied impatiently.

"As I recall, that was a Customs sealed crate. It was in storage waiting to be picked up." Fred hesitated, "That's about all I know."

All eyes swiveled to Jarman, and Jarman considered his next question.

Jarman frowned. "Fred, I think you know more than you're saying." Picking up a data padd from the table, Jarman tossed it to Fred, "Try again."

Fred caught the data padd easily, touched the activation key and studied the display. A standard data padd display with the usual controls across the top and left side, it sported a set of iconic selections Fred was not familier with across the bottom. Three files were prominently listed "Core Supplies Warehouse 42 Security Log 22450428", "Core Supplies Warehouse 42 Customs Records 22450428", and "Fred Joseph Data File J34G65". The room was eerily silent as Fred quickly scanned the contents of the files. When he finally looked up from the data padd, all eyes were on him.

"Your data is inaccurate." Fred stated flatly, then continued. "The data file on me only begins just a month before I was employed at the O'Tornell Warehouse. Not a very thourough data file."

A man sitting about half-way between Fred and Jarman quickly exchanged glances with Jarman and seemed about to object but Jarman waved at him to wait.

Jarman's frown deepened with frustration. "Any thing else 'inaccurate'?" The silence in the room seemed to deepen.

Fred decided he now knew what it was like for a microbe under a telescope. "Yes, there is. This Customs data is not the Customs data the warehouse had. This file indicates the contents of the container was identified and verified. That Core Supplies Warehouse on O'Tornell is not a Customs depot. We would never have that data. That container was a Customs sealed container. Only the sending and receiving Customs depots would ever have that data."

Jarman hesitated just a moment. "Fred, as a Warehouse Shift Supervisor, you know as well as anyone that falsified Customs data is not uncommon."

"True." Fred replied.

Jarman continued, "However, that data is directly from the Core Supplies' O'Tornell Warehouse records." he glanced down at padd. "The security log clearly shows that during our visit you authorized a hi-res scan of cargo crates that had not been cleared or accepted." Jarman looked directly at Fred. "Without authorization, that is a violation of law. Warehouse Shift Supervisors are not allowed to have that clearance. You shouldn't have had that level of clearance, yet your handprint authorized that." He glanced at another padd, "Those crates exploded and you initiated the emergency lock-down. As you know, The emergency lock-down triggers the doors to seal, allowing only emergency and fire control personel or official investigators to enter or leave. Next, your handprint authorized a hir-res scan of the entire warehouse, which requires an even higher authorization than the earlier scan, but you personally authorized it." Jarman stared at Fred. "How was that possible?"

"I guess they really trust me." Fred stated dryly, staring back at Jarman.

Jarman chuckled, a soft deadly chuckle. "You wish. The fact is, such high level scans are reserved for S.I. Agents and the G.A., never to company employees."

-- Footnote: S.I. Agents are operatives of Shipping Investigations which oversees, regulates, and polices the shipping and warehouse organizations. The S. I. is mostly Humans, but is under the direction of the Grindill Authority (G.A.). --

Jarman continued, looking directly at Fred, "Fred, the data file only goes back that far because you don't seem to exist any further back." Fred's stomach seemed to leap into his throught as Jarman continued. "Your past history as detailed by the Warehouse records are all dead ends, no further data. The Warehouse records indicate you exist and gives some fairly standard company records on your background and history, but none of it can be verified with the locations referenced in the Warehouse data. Apparently, you only exist in the Core Supplies Warehouse records. Can you explain that?"

Fred hesitated, this wasn't the way this was supposed to go. "I, uh, don't have a good answer for that. Are you sure about your data?"

Jarman didn't answer, but nodded to someone behind Fred. Two deadly clicks, the activation of ion pistols seemed to echo in the silence of the room. As the ion pistols faintly whined with newly activated power, Fred felt tiny beads of sweat form on his forehead. One wrong move, and he'd never know it. Despite so many people in the room, Fred was sure he could hear a pin drop.

"Who is it that you're really working for?" Jarman asked.

Fred glanced around the room. He'd better make this pretty convincing. "Look, ah, I really do work for Core Supplies Warehouses. They had gotten word that something might happen, they didn't know what. I can only assume they thought someone like you might be coming. The S.I. gave me clearance for the security scans to help when needed." Fred locked his gaze on Jarman. "It was sure handy when you came." Fred paused. "They made sure that wasn't in the records."

Jarman thought for a moment, then spoke. "What about your missing past history? Was that part of the plan?"

Fred replied, "I don't know what is with that. Core Supplies applications include a detailed past history with point of origin. That data should reference BackDrop in the Jova system." Fred hesitated, "That's where I grew up. Did you check there?"

Jarman nodded at the man near the middle of the table, the same man who had been about to interrupt earlier. The man returned the nod and then concentrated on his terminal display.

"Fair enough." Jarman gestured the piece of Orion hardware in the center of the table. "What can you tell me about that?"

"Nothing." Fred replied. "My scans could not penetrate the shielding of the container."

Jarman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that's all for now." The ion pistols clicked off behind Fred and Fred visibly relaxed a little. "These men will escort you back to your room."

Standing up, Fred politely nodded to Jarman, then turned and left the room with the two large guards close behind.

Back in the conference room, as the door closed behind Fred and the two guards, Jarman turned to the man at the middle terminal. "Jones, anything on our guest?"

"Yes, in fact." Jones sounded genuinely surprised. "It looks like he may have told us the truth. BackDrop's records list him and even mention him going to O'Tornell to work for Core Supplies. No idea why that didn't show in the Core Supplies records." Jones hesitated. "However, it doesn't say he isn't lying, either. There could easily be more to his story and the BackDrop records could be planted."

"Alright," Jarman replied. "He might be lying, he might not be. He says he had no knowledge about what was in the container yet the records say he did. Could be altered records. But why? Normally, he wouldn't know what was in there. Knowing would be a violation of Customs. Either he knew but isn't admitting it, or didn't know and someone else has inserted that data for some reason. We knew what would be there because we'd seen it in the shipping records at other stops." Jarman hesitated, "Was this simply bait to lure us? And we got away? He said they knew something was going to happen."

"Boss," A burly man just a couple seats to Jarman's right spoke up. "I don't like it. It seems too set up. This is the first new piece of Orion evidence in generations and it has easily fallen into our hands... and it's a significant item. It smells like a trap to me, and I think I said so before we ran the job."

"I agree." A thin man just behind him volunteered. A lot of others in the room exchanged glances and nodded to each other.

"Guys," Jarman said, "You might be right. The problem is, why didn't the trap spring? Were we that good or just lucky?" Jarman shook his head. "Something is just not right about all this." Rapping his knuckles on the table surface, he made his descision. "OK, here's what we'll do. Keep a close eye on Fred Joseph. If he's a 'plant', he'll need to communicate with someone. Catch that communication. Meanwhile, let's move the Black Ruby further into the asteroids, tuck us in next to a fairly stable big one so that we blend in even more. Sharon can monitor the communications chatter in the region, see if there is anything unusual going on. Let's double our local watchdog patrols, but hold off any other travel so that we don't attract attention." Jarman glanced around the room. All seemed in agreement. "OK, if there are no objections, let's find out more about this old piece of hardware."

Chapter 1, Part 5

As the doors to Conference 1 closed behind him, Fred was worried. Things were not going as planned. First, it hadn't been just any thieves that had raided the warehouse; it had been the Rim Pirates who were widely regarded as the strongest group resisting the Grindill. Second, the item snatched from the warehouse has been a relic of the Orion, quite possibly the most famous ship from the old Galactic Order, rumored to still exist lost somewhere waiting to be found. Someone had to have known it was a Orion artifact in that packing crate and would thus lure the Rim Pirates. Being a prisoner wasn't helping, either. Time to change things.
On his left led the corridor back to his room. To his right the corridor continued for another two rooms before it ended at a junction. Straight ahead led another corridor towards what appeared to be equipment rooms and airlocks. The two large guards flanked Fred a little behind on each side. Starting down the corridor straight ahead, a firm hand settled on his shoulder. Looking surprised, Fred glanced back over his shoulder at the guard. "What? Aren't we headed for my room?"

"Back this way", the guard waved his weapon towards the corridor to the left back towards Fred's room.

"Have it your way." Fred shrugged. "What's down that way, anyway?"

"Air locks and gear. Nothing you need to worry about. Now move it." The guard growled.

"Alright, alright, I'll go." Fred gave his best disarming smile and started down the corridor back towards his room. "Can I ask a few questions along the way? I mean, you guys are "The Rim Pirates", and you're known throughout the galaxy." Fred tried to look apologetic, "Can't blame me for being curious."

The guard regarded Fred cautiously then glanced at the other guard who simply shrugged. "Well, OK." He growled, "But keep moving."

"Certainly." Fred continued, "You know, the Black Ruby seems pretty well equipped. Are all the staterooms as nice as the one I'm in?"

"Pretty much." The guard replied, already bored.

"I thought I saw a one-way force field at the bay, was I right? I understand those are hard to get a hold of and that one seemed pretty big."

"Yeah, it's big." The guard frowned; puzzled by such a trivial questions after the topics of the meeting they had just come from. Up ahead, Fred could see they were approaching the observation area they had passed earlier on the way to the conference room. He'd have to time this just right.

"You know, I tried to get one for the warehouse, but the boss just laughed at me. Told me it was more than the whole warehouse was worth. Though it would have been... Hey! Is that a launch bay?" Fred suddenly craned his neck and stepped towards the observation windows.

"Hey!" Cried the second guard as Fred momentarily blocked his path. Thrown off balance as he tried to avoid colliding with Fred, he reached a hand out to the other guard's shoulder to steady him. Dropping, Fred spun back and swept his leg wide, striking the already off balance guard low and as the guard fell Fred pushed him into the other guard, sending them both crashing to the deck. The first guard's weapon clattered to the deck. Scooping it up, Fred covered the guards.

"Don't move." Fred stated matter of fact. "I've decided I don't want to go back to my room just yet. Hand me that other ion pistol and stand up." Sourly, the second guard handed over his ion pistol which Fred stuffed in his back waistband and both guards stood up. Gesturing with the weapons, Fred continued. "Now head back to that room, I'll be right behind you."

Back in the conference room, Jarman was watching as a technician waved a sensor probe around the artifact. "Anything?" He queried.

"I'm picking up some very low level energy spikes, almost undetectable, almost just like the low level spikes from power source which, as you can see, appears to be working and strong yet almost doesn't register at all." Repositioning the probe around some connections he continued, "Just not registering much at all, almost like ---"

Suddenly, the Conference doors snapped open as the two guards stumbled into the room, Fred pushing them. Fred stopped in the doorway, held his hands up with the two confiscated ion pistols pointed at the ceiling with his hands spread wide. Instantly, over a dozen ion pistols appeared seemingly out of nowhere all pointed straight at Fred's head, each softly emitting a brief but deadly whine. Dropping to the deck, the two humiliated guards flattened, covering their heads. Just as quickly, silence reigned supreme.

Assessing the scene, Jarman demanded, "What's the meaning of this?"

Fred didn't move, but shifted his gaze directly to Jarman. "There are some things you need to know." Fred nodded toward the artifact, "Especially before you get too far with that artifact." Carefully lowering the ion pistols, Fred handed them to a nearby man in mechanic's environment jumper who nervously accepted them. Fred kept his eyes locked on Jarman.

"You couldn't tell us earlier?" Jarman growled, his anger rising.

"Didn't know who you were until you brought me here." Fred replied.

"You knew for an hour before we questioned you." Jarman cut in, eyes flashing with anger.

"Yeah," Fred replied, keeping his eyes locked on Jarman and pointing a finger at the artifact, "But I didn't know anything about that until you brought me to this room." Finally shifting his eyes to the artifact, he continued. "That is from the Orion, the most famous ship from the . The Grindill don't like anyone to have anything from the old Galactic Order, especially the Orion. The Grindill don't like you, either, almost as much. That being the case, only the Grindill would be able to use an Orion artifact as bait to capture you." Pausing, Fred shifted his gaze back to Jarman. "They're also just about the only ones that would even want to capture you." Jarman was beginning to relax, but not much.

"You still could have told us before leaving this room." Said Jarman.

"Who would you believe?" Fred asked, "A guy being questioned as a prisoner? Or a guy who willingly came to you? I am not your enemy. Would an enemy over power your guards just to turn himself over to you?"

"Point taken." Irritated, Jarman waved to his people to put their weapons away. "Now, what is this you haven't told me, that you could have told me before?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, there is a beacon hidden in that artifact." As the words fell of Fred's lips, all sound seemed to stop as importance of what Fred had said was understood. "Poke around too much and you'll trigger it." Two techs almost fell over each other backing away from it. "They're hoping you'll trigger it, revealing where you are." Fred shrugged, "They had said it was a group of thieves. When I found out it was you, I had to find out why humans would be trying to capture the Rim Pirates."

"Who are 'they'?" Jarman demanded. "Who was trying to set us up?"

"The O'Tornell Security Force, I think, but that doesn't make much sense because they don't have any history of being friendly with the Grindill." Fred replied.

"No, they don't." Jarman agreed. "You're not part of the O'Tornell Security Force." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I'm a J.S.S. agent. I've been undercover in the Warehouse position. The O'Tornell Security Force supposedly hired the J.S.S. to help them catch some thieves. The J.S.S. didn't know the thieves would be you, the Rim Pirates, otherwise the job would have been rejected." Fred paused and took a deep breath. "One more thing I hope you've realized…" Fred continued. "You're in serious danger. You can bet the Grindill are very, very near just waiting for you to trigger that beacon."

-- Footnote: J.S.S. (Jovan Special Services, in the Jova Planetary Systems Alliance) agents are highly trained and feared secretive agents often hired for criminal investigations that cross system borders. They consist of all species, but will not support the Grindill in any way. The Grindill usually ignore them preferring to leave the J.S.S. alone because the J.S.S. refuses to get involved in interplanetary politics, preferring to operate as a policing operation. The J.S.S. wouldn’t assist the Grindill even if asked at gunpoint. --

Jarman touched a switch on the table surface panel next to him. "Sharon? What communication chatter is there in this region of space currently?"

"It's been pretty quiet, almost too quiet." Came a slightly tinny but obviously feminine voice. "Reggie says he's picking up a lot of sporadic energy blips, but nothing to associate them with."

"Ships?" Jarman asked.

A brief pause, "Could be."

"Put me on ship wide." Jarman seemed to have forgotten about Fred.

"You're on." Came Sharon's voice.

"This is Jarman." His voice boomed throughout the ship. "We may have fallen into a Grindill trap and Grindill ships may be closing in on us at this moment. Assume defensive stations in ready status with minimal energy output." He paused. "Be prepared for Space Displacement without warning. Look sharp." He clicked off the switch, immediately, people scrambled, cramming through the Conference Room doors trying to get to their posts. Jarman pressed the switch again. When he spoke again his voice no longer echoed through the ship. "Reggie."

A moment pause and a deep male voice came through the tinny speaker. "What course?"

"Maximum Space Displacement we can muster without warning, toward sector 34g, just behind the asteroid cluster if you can."

"That'll be a bit rough. Mac isn't going to like it, but I think we can make it." Reggie replied.

"It'll have to do." Jarman flicked off the switch. By now, the conference room was nearly empty except Fred, Jarman, the two embarrassed Guards resolutely keeping watch of Fred, and for a lone remaining technician examining the artifact. Turning to the technician, Jarman spoke, "Have we triggered anything?"

"Ah, I don't think so." The Technician replied. "At least, I haven't been able to pick up anything different from when it got here and I don't think that was strong enough to be picked up outside of this room." He tapped out a sequence on a data pad laying on the table next to him. A moment later it beeped. He smiled. "However, knowing there is a beacon waiting to be found is helpful. Think I found it, wait … found two."

"Two beacons?" Jarman queried, his surprise evident.

"Yes, two." The technician adjusted a sensor probe, looking like a Doctor about to administer an injection. Waving the sensor probe close along one side, he studied his handheld readout. "One of them is placed so that the first sensor obscured it from detection." Snapping off the sensor probe he looked up at Jarman. "We should be able to remove them without triggering them and without damaging the artifact, but we will have to disassemble a little." He paused. "Might be a bit tricky."

"OK." Jarman said. "Secure the artifact for now, we'll have to look at that later. Good work, Armando."