Chapter 20: A Justice Providers Tale (SOTU)

=A Justice Provider's Tale=

I am on my way to Gullster’s Paradise. Never heard of it? Well, Citizen me neither until five standard says ago that is. That’s when a Triple-Strong bar keep, in a less than clean and overpriced Tox-Serv right by the landing field of Thirty-Three spaceport on planet U-56730-III , told me that there wasn’t much of anything further out, other than Belgrath and Gullster’s Paradise before Union space became Shiss- space.

Belgrath so he told me was a community of Petri-Excluders, closed to outsiders. A rabid sect of crazy stone worshippers ; I kid you not; were adamant to be left alone and were shooting at everyone and anything that tried to stay on their world.

I doubted he went that way after getting the same information from the same bar-keep most likely. Since that Tox Serv, although less than even average clean was the only such establishment at the E class space port on U-56730-III. It would not have surprised me if men and beings of all kinds have looked in the ever and everywhere present bars, taverns and watering holes for information, since times begun.

Trails lead where the trails lead. I never was too picky in that regard and frankly I prefer them to head towards a little known, out of the ways, back water fringe world that was somewhere at the edge of unknown and Shiss space. Now why would I prefer trailing my prey to one of those. Instead, lets say a nice crowded ‘old neighborhood’ core world with every convenience you can imagine? You need to smarten up, Citizen if you wanna succeed in this business. Runners that hide among the faceless masses in plain sight are much harder to track down, than a scared shit-less ‘corporate rubberneck’ who first decided to skim a little profit of the top or sell something he didn’t exactly own and when it was found out and decided to run. He heads out into the fringes thinking no one will ever find him in the boondocks far outside the busy core of our Shiny Union. Oh wait, that is where you would go if you decided to run, is hat what you’re thinking? That whatever you did wasn’t worth rotting on a prison colony; having your mind doctored by psycho surgeons or perhaps face those nice hooded goons of the Justice Departments with a very permanent solution to all your troubles this side of life? I stopped the recording for a moment to check on the Navi readout. It wouldn’t be the first time that this EN AutoNav Starfinder got me completely lost. That second hand ′Expensive-New-Rubbish-Overpriced-Equipment′ wasn’t exactly my first choice. Spelling out ENROE the manufacturing companies name in that, all over the Union known fashion was only funny if you had the credits to spend on something really nice. Like a really great working but totally overpriced piece of SII equipment. Everything seemed alright however, the Starfinder had me on course so it seemed and fed the helm control with the correct data. The small little red triangle representing me, or more precisely my ship on a neat path of green dots ahead of it and red dots behind of it progressed neatly and slowly inside the three dimensional projection of a space cubicle of hundred light years to the square. That dot illuminated path originated from a star system designated U-56730. After scrolling through two more representations of space map cubicles it ended at a system marked Gullster’s Star. One of that stars planetary companions was a dirt ball named, you guessed it Gullster’s Paradise. The reference stars I had marked just in case the ‘Star-Finder’ would act up again and find anything but the destination I wanted it to find, were still there. Loosing the Auto Nav or being misdirected by it, without catching it in time was a royal screw up after all. Especially if you found out too late and you ended up somewhere in designated Nul space, hoping the purple brutes didn’t notice you while trying to slip back with next to empty tanks. That wasn’t a laughing matter, that really happened and not all too long ago. I did made it back with a few micro grams of piss in my tanks, trail cold and out of a good bounty. Thinking about it still got me pissed in a major way. Ah, but all seemed good indeed, so I resumed my recording. Where was I? Ah yes, you were asking... ,or actually I was thinking you might ask this at this point of my narrative: Why not hiding somewhere out in the fringes? I reclined a little further wished for a slug of something, preferably intoxicating strong. Think about it, the further out you go the less the travel options. Someone is bound to see and remember you. Even if you are one of those lucky ones with your own space ship, you need fuel and all sort of things. Again the further out you go the less abundant the choices and destinations to get them. The easier it is for someone like me to pick up your trail. Oh wait a minute, its not the fringes you’d run and hide, you consider to leave Union Space altogether, and head for Sin 4 perhaps, Union Credits are good there after all, right? Sure you might make it, especially if you smart and rich enough to make the trip on board of one of the more reputable companies. There are a few that do offer to get people there, but trust me if you travel there trying to escape Union law and you are a not a real hard case, you be captured and sold as slave if your lucky, ending up in a Togar butcher shop as part of the wares if not. Piloting your ship across into Freespace; unless you have a crew of fighting spacers with you and a well armed fast ship; forget it. If you make it unmolested to one of the independent worlds of Freespace you won’t be able to hold on to your ship for long and the end result will be the same, you being sold as slave or for food. I noticed that one of the marked reference stars had disappeared and was now a good parsec removed, from where it should have been at this point of my journey. With a silent curse, I dare not to repeat. I promised myself this was the last time that damn thing let me astray. The first thing I would do after this hunt was over and the cat in the bag, buy myself a brand new SII Cosmos Auto Nav XI.

Damn those Schwartz Industries cut throats and the 19,588 credits the cursed thing was priced at the last time I checked browsing Silver-Hawks Emporium and double curse that rotten piece of Enroe junk. I mused the thought for a moment, maybe there was a good used one for sale.

I cut the ISAH engines and dropped out of Quasi space. I was close to nothing really and that was of course a good thing. Encounters in deep space, far away from any destination system were very unlikely. But if they happened because you popped up on someone’s scanner, they weren’t usually the encounters you wanted to happen.

While I still drifted with some inherent momentum into the general direction of Gullster’s Star, at current speed not even one of those legendary Narth would live long enough to make it alive.

No trans-light enabled ship with a valid Union registration was allowed to leave the boundaries of a star system behind without at least three means of navigation.

The first and obvious one was usually the Computronic assisted Auto Nav option. Basically, Pift the Dudu could find his way in this manner. Tell the thing your destination and if was registered in the Astrographical societies official catalog; given you had the required fuel and range you would end up where you wanted to be, except if you had to deal with second hand, third grade equipment that is. Like me!

With a clouded gaze I scolded the EN AutoNav Starfinder.

Now the second option was the one I was about to use, by dialing into GalNet channel four-four-four and retrieve the ‘directional ping broad casts’ of Pluribus Unum, Zee Point Station and Zee Minus Station. The Navigator could then be re calibrated and off I went to my destination.

Since I did have enough fuel, was well within range, had reasonably well maintained engines that should be no problem.

While I am explaining things anyway I might as well mention the third option: Navigating by manual calculation.

Now technically there was nothing to it, as a matter of fact it was one of the tests you had to complete successfully before they handed you the Trans light ship master licence. Without one you weren’t authorized to operate a ship that could slip into Quasi and thus go faster than light. Out here in the fringes it didn’t matter much other than you getting lost for good, but in the so called consecutive space claimed by the United Stars of the Galaxies aka the Union, it was. Union police hailing you for your licence code and you are not able to transmit the genuine kind is asking for a lot of trouble. Getting one isn’t all that hard, I did it after all and took me only two tries.

The navigators aboard all Spatial Navy ships so I heard, did it all the time and every time. Some I heard were even able to do some of the calculations right in their heads relying on their ultra reliable super tech Computronic Nav assist, only for back up. In order to navigate that way, you needed a reliable star map, a precise chronometer adjusted and calibrated for Union Standard Time, then yo needed to find at least three of the known quasars. Identify them by their pulse rate, know the real time at your position and the real time at the destination of arrival, feed the quasar positions into the calculator and... ah well you get the picture. Unless you are a genius or been to the Naval Academy, it takes forever.

Luckily the re-calibration had put that Enroe junk back on track and me back on the correct course; sparing me this exercise.

Before I go on, I think I better tell you who I am and why am telling you all this.

The name is Angel Thiermo Marifou. I am human, well somewhat human that is. I really did finish Union school, despite the impression I might have given you so far. No I never claimed to be the smartest or the best, but I claim to be good average in almost everything. I’m about 6′ 11 and keep myself in good shape. To give me an edge over the average prey and a fighting chance over the not so average, I opted for some mostly legal cyber stuff. Nothing fancy, nothing that shows and yells Cyber freak the second you see me.

In my business you need to strike a balance between looking no nonsense when you got your prey in front of you and not stick out from the crowd like an advertisement pig for Arthur’s Swine and Dine with a project-a-sign over your head. While there are plenty citizens that are much bigger and taller than me, a human male wearing mostly black rhino armor leather and of my size and frame still doesn’t blend in as easily as the average guy.

I really did go to Union School and even served my twenty two month as a ground pounder in the Union Army to earn my full citizenship. Yeah I am indeed an honest to good Union citizen, couldn’t do what I do if I wasn’t by the way.

Law abiding? Of course! Well mostly and depending who’s asking. That’s why I am speaking to you or more precisely I am recording all this for legal purposes as I actually have no idea who you might be if this is recording is ever listened to by anyone after all.

T’was Brux Mostry,a Big Maggi-Sauron and sort of my mentor when I started doing this. Anyway it was him who told me to start keeping a journal.

I am not even ashamed of the mist in my eyes when I think about Brux. If I ever cared for anyone or anything really. I mean I respected my grand parents and all, but not like I respected Brux. Ah, anyway about the recording, at first I wasn’t to keen leaving a record.

While I was mostly truthful and indeed I am a lawful and law abiding citizen as I mentioned, sometimes some or the other law might get into the way of things and I rather not have any actual evidence of me not doing what Union Police wanted or most likely not wanted me to do. I am sure you understand.

Brux is as smart as they come and I learned a thing or two from that Saurian and when he argued that such a journal could be kept secure and that it also might come in handy one day if I had to prove that I was on the right side of law. Doing what I do is often at the very edge of what you might call lawful behavior. Besides I follow my prey anywhere the trail leads and that usually includes places that have local laws on top of Union laws. No one could possibly know them all, so having a record of your actions could be a life saver.

Brux also was of the opinion that it might come in handy as a training manual if I ever decided to get a partner, branch out or retire and turn the business over to an eager beaver wanting to succeed without making all the many mistakes I made.

Fat chance I ever get a partner and I am not one of the big agencies with dozens or even hundreds running around for them. Retiring has an attractive ring and if a real fat contract or three slip my way I might even considering it. For a while at least before I pack it all up and head out again. I doubt there is enough time left in the universe to tell you about all the mistakes I made so far. I am pretty sure, I came out on top usually by sheer luck and by the seams of my pants. I just hope my luck isn’t running out anytime soon or I hopefully learned enough to keep myself making the big ones, especially the ones that get you killed.

And not that I have any idea what a beaver supposed to be, but since the word eager was attached I had an idea what it meant. Who knows maybe I will run into someone who could benefit from what I have learned.

Alright, back to that introduction. As I said I am Angel Thiermo Marifou. I am usually and by those who know me called ATM, you say it like this: Aaa Te Em and ever since I left home.

The name Angel I like to be used only by the female companion variety. Most often however I never get to the name introduction part, and I am simply called a pain in the you know where by those who wanted to see anyone but me.

As I said I am an Union Citizen and I am saying that again just to be sure you get that. I was born the natural way, you know where a woman actually carries the child and gives birth.

I never met my mother, meeting her with a mind old enough to really remember that is. Occasionally I think I did dream of her holding me or something. Usually happy and soft dreams.

Of course I know you need someone else’s genetic material to get a woman to bring children that natural way to life.

I heard of Union life forms that could do without that, but there were few and none were of the carbon based variety. Technically you can of course use your own genetic material, and ignore the super serious Gene clone laws, but the results are less than pretty as a rule.

In my case it was a male and human tradition calls that individual, father. My father Thiermo Marifou left me his names but I had no recollection of him at all, not even a fuzzy and vague one like I did of mother.

Both my parents died in a big explosion during a terrorist attack. I was found, covered with blood, most likely theirs by a med bot, sometime after the attack. I was eight month old when that happened and had been raised by my grandparents on Gore II, without question the most unusual place to be born. This isn’t just my opinion by the way. Gore II, you must have heard of it, is on the list of the ten most unusual destinations in the known universe and ranks right at the number one spot. Look it up on GalNet, or if you can go visit, it is overrun by tourists from all over the Galaxy but worth your while.

But just in case you’re from the far side of Andromeda and came to the M-0 for the first time and never heard of the place. Gore II was a living planet. Not like a garden world, but a real planet sized organism.

The almost 6,100 meters radius ball shaped object, an ugly dark brown crusted thing, floating around in the second orbit of a normal GIIIa type sun had been known to the Saresii of the First Age of Knowledge, or for about a million years at least or more.

While no one is certain about anything when it comes to Gore II, most researchers and scholars believe it was already dead or dying even back then.

It is dead or by some of the thinkers definitions still dying right now. No one knows how it came to be, how it ended up in the second orbit around Gore. No one knows what it consumed when it was alive or what caused it to die. Some speculate that the Narth know, because some believe the Narth know simply everything.

It seems sort of funny to me. The planet or that planet sized thing had been known to half the space faring societies this side of the Galactic bulge and from what I heard for many thousands if not millions of years, long before the Union existed or Earthers ever ascended. Yet as far as I knew, none of them really went near it or explored it more than maybe looking at it from a good distance.

Then Earth ascended and the nosiest, most curious race of sentient primates stepped upon the galactic stage.

It didn’t take long in terms of Galactic developments and the monkey boys from Earth discovered Gore II. Of all organizations, groups or what not, it was a Schwartz Industries corporate explorer or something like that, landing on it first in 2944 Old Terran time, and because it was SII, they never left and simply claimed it.

Union science came in and examined the thing. Nothing like it had ever been found and no one came across anything similar since. As a matter of fact no one has been able to explain pretty much anything about it, thus it was and still is one of the biggest draws to scientists there ever was.

And because Union law prohibited, even back then, anyone from exploiting a sentient life form, or from taking possession of a place occupied by native sentient life. Gore II had the potential of being either or even both.

However after almost one hundred years of research that did not yield any evidence that the thing was alive, had a brain or was sentient, and a big court battle that developed into a day long hearing at the Assembly. Featuring the first ever public appearance of the Saresii reprsentative testifying that the planet sized creature was dead for a long time, Union science cleared the world and SII took possession. It established a large science research facility inside the so called Heart chamber, deep inside. Below the five mile crust of hardened carbon tissue, were layers of soft tissue,a planet spanning tunnel system filled with a blood like substance just like the vascular system of a mammal, bluish globes identified as potential neural nodes and many organic features.

The researchers and explorers also discovered small parasitic or perhaps symbiotic life forms. None were sentient,but a few quite dangerous to especially unprotected life.

I will tell you more about Gore II some other time, but one thing I still need to mention. There are people within the Union, who believe that Gore is only sleeping and that it is a God. A Cosmic super entity to be exact. Even though the Narth had verified the Saresii verdict in a second court and Assembly hearing in 4002 OTT. Despite this there are still a few churches and sects praying to Gore and out of these churches a radical movement developed, a group calling itself the ‘Defenders of Gore’. A group strongly opposed to the presence of SII, of Union scientists, colonists and tourists. These Defenders of Gore recruit their members almost exclusively out of the ranks of Non Citizens and Gal Drifts and turns them into fanatical believers that do anything to advance their cause, including acts of brutal violence and outright terrorism.

Both my parents died in the big Heart chamber bombing of 4992 OTT. I was three years old that year and became an orphan. I am almost exactly forty years old now in case you can’t do the math as it is 5029 Old Terran Time. Yeah I know what you are thinking, I don’t get that Terran time thing either. To me a day has 20 hours and an hour hundred minutes. A month has 40 days and the year 400. The guys at the Assembly tried to get away of the many different time keeping norms, including the Earth centric way of keeping it and introduced New Union Time and technically everyone is supposed to use it and call the year 3444 NUT, but I think it will take another hundred years or so for it to really catch on. Almost everyone is still using that blasted OTT. Ah, what the heck it makes no real difference to me anyway. Time runs the same and I am not getting paid by the hour anyway.

All that time talk got me off track. Well, after serving my twenty two month in the Union Army, I started hunting Gore Defenders and eventually became a licensed business card carrying bounty hunter. Making sure those who decided to become fugitives of the law and those declared guilty in abstinence will not escape their due punishment. That I am getting paid for it, is only to cover the expenses and eek out a living.

--“”--

Finally made it. The place was called Gullster’s Paradise and looked pretty much like any other GWC 5D from space. Oh right you might not be a spacer or haven’t traveled all that much. GWC stands for Garden World Class. The D denotes a dry, arid world and the number could range from one to seven, denoting just how dry the world is.

A GWC 5D is pretty dry alright and finding open water on it surface would be very unlikely. Perhaps with the exception of puddles of brackish soup perhaps, loaded to the max with dissolved minerals and about as consumable as boiling sulfuric acid.

I had just landed on, what the Complete Astrographic Catalog of 5025 OTT listed as Space Port F type.

It was clear, at least to me, that whatever genius came up with that designation had no idea what a space port F type actually looked like.

There was nothing portly about it. It was just a big empty space of dust and hard packed dirt. I was certain whoever decided to report this place as the space port of Gullster’s Paradise didn’t even use some sort of earth mover or dozer to level it or move the larger boulders out of the way, but hey the fellow must have had a considerable sense of humor or a very imaginative mind. Apparently, it wasn’t a Type X, which of course meant no landing facilities were present whatsoever and no form of artificial added improvements existed.

In other words, you simply landed where ever it was level enough to put down whatever space ship you had.

Gullster’s paradise had service buildings. At least that’s what I assumed the two buildings of sorts were, that I could make out in the glimmering distance across the sun baked flat field of Gullster’s Paradise Space Port.

My eighty one foot, DeNoir Comet chaser TL450, lovingly nicknamed ‘Angel’s Wings’ had certainly seen better days I had to admit, but compared to the two other space craft sitting on their struts not too far distant, it was a shiny new looking, first rate product of Union engineering.

To the left at about 200 meters distance, a Jooltar Dinghy. About seventy feet of dinged and crudely repaired, elongated cone shaped Duro-metal. With two Karthanian Nuran enticers bolted to it as if by after thought.

’Yeah the tech books and general knowledge will tell you they do exactly the same thing as an ISAH pod. Kicking a space craft past the Dim threshold and into Quasi space, but any one actually flying a space craft knowing about them will tell you, the difference is the same as night and day. Those Karthanian enticers weren’t particular bad and considered products of a TL 7 society, but they required three times the energy, had half the range, a third of the speed and needed natural sourced Kalimun crystals.

The Dinghy looked like the work horse of a scavenger. Seeing Jooltar technology so far from Jooltar space was unusual, but seeing it had a Union registry number stenciled to the side was almost unbelievable. Someone telling me, I’d call him a liar.

To my right and at about 200 meters distance, near a rugged little outcropping of tall desert colored rocks, a D60 shuttle. Usually Dee Sixties were shiny examples of well kept Union hardware and used in thousand different configurations usually within star systems. Sometimes in Long range configuration hopping between systems that weren’t too far apart and deep within Union core space. The term shuttle had many meanings, but in terms of Union spacecraft, it usually meant anything smaller than a space ship intended to ferry passengers and goods between short distances and usually within the confines of a star system. Even long range shuttles with the means of going trans light never really went beyond the next star system or so.

Here is a little bit of trivia, my I have yet to meet friend, the D stands for Discovery. I think you might not even finds that tit bit of information on GalNet. A guy I know, used to be in the Union navy and I swear honest to Mickey, he had actually served on the most famous ship of them all, the Devastator as a shuttle pilot.

I put the engines of my Angel’s Wing on standby. Landing at places like this, I like to be able to jump back into space real fast and thumbed the recorder back on.

That flying continent, has an entire fleet of shuttles of course. From the smallest D10 to the largest D100 models. Anyway this guy tells me he shuttled the big man, I kid you not, the Eternal Warrior, Admiral Stahl himself.

While I was putting on my Rhino leather jacket, I knew how that sounded. No one would ever believe that. Well screw you, I know the guy alright? He really served on the Devi. He had a pilot jacket, with the Devastator logo and all. Real Spatial navy,not a fibber. If you knew anything about our navy you’d know they would never dare to fib about the Devi or mention the big man with Marines in the same bar.

I didn’t have to get angry. There wasn’t even anyone I had in mind giving that recording to, eventually, Everyone I knew would of course now how serious Marines took anything even remotely relating to their declared God. I checked my personal gear and remembered I wanted to tell whoever listened to my recordings, why Union shuttles had the ‘D’ designation. The Eternal Warrior told him that the D stood originally for Discovery. Long before Earth ascended, there were only a few shuttles and one of them was called Discovery. It was the only one that survived the times and ended up in some museum or something. When the first real shuttle craft were manufactured by Schwartz I think, they named their first commercially available model Discovery 20. It somehow and over time shortened to D and the length. So no matter who makes the shuttle, it is always called D, something. I bet you didn’t know that.

I put on the face mask, made sure the filters and the emergency air supply were okay and then lowered the ramp and stomped out into the brutal heat, that almost knocked me of my feet, despite me expecting it. I took a moment to acclimate while I kept looking towards that D60 over there.

Most likely it had been bought from a scrap dealer or perhaps had been stolen from a bone yard. It was a Mitshu-Ford Roomy-Sixty. A model that hadn’t been sold for over two hundred years if I wasn’t mistaken. It featured two ISAH pods alright, but they had been custom added. The Roomy-Sixty sitting over there wasn’t the manufacturers long range version. There was no registration stenciled to its sides either.

To me it was a beautiful sight, because I knew it belonged to Sodiban Renow, the Andorian I was eager to meet and the reason that brought me to this overheated dust ball in the first place.

The first thing you need to invest is in good personal gear, friend. This is a mighty big galaxy with lots of friendly, but even more quite unfriendly people of all shapes and sizes. There are many that are stronger, faster, bigger and a whole lot smarter than you. This is unfortunate, I know but a fact of life. No matter who you are there is bound to be someone bigger and better in everything you do. Once you decide to do this sort of thing, make sure you know who you after. Do your homework and learn as much as you can about your target.

Finally meeting up with a tiny small framed Arilou, you been after for several months. You already spending the bounty in your head that is and you think you can handle the little son of a bitch with one hand tied to your back, not knowing that this little shit is a Psionic user and a good one, telekinetic talent to boot. That he didn’t break your neck with his mind powers after he spotted you was only thanks to a stroke of luck, because a competitor saw him too and attracted his attention by shooting at that green skinned runner. Next time you hunt someone with psionic talents make sure you know what to do or decide to have someone else take the ’tract.

While I was certain the Andorian didn’t have a HPI over two hundred, the threshold level where psionic abilities might develop in an individual, he still was a four meter tall humanoid who could run a whole lot faster and was naturally at least twice as strong as a standard, non enhanced human.

I lowered the cargo compartment lift gate and unloaded my Silverhawk-Monoflash. A small open skimmer with powerful Artigrav lifters and a truly insane directional ′all-environment′ turbine.

I never wanted to find out just how fast the thing could go, I wasn’t the suicidal maniac kind.

The S-M provided me with transportation first and foremost as I had no inclination to do much walking in this scorching heat and the way things looked around here, I didn’t expect taxi flyer service or convenient slide belts.

For your information, friend. It also pays to check whatever information you could get about the environment your prey has decided for his hiding spot. Bummer Is, I didn’t always follow my own advice. I didn’t check GalNet or ′Foster’s Fringe World Almanac′ on information regarding Gullster’s Paradise. I had relied once again on local information if you could call the colorful description of a bar keep at U-56730-II at a Tox-Serv 344 light years distant local information. My mistake.

Sadly after seventeen, hold on...no nineteen years of doing this I am making them. mistakes that is. Hey, I never said I was the best in the business or the most successful. To myself I added a ‘Nope sadly not.’ Then I swung into the seat of the S-M and opened the acceleration control to only five percent, and was basically already where I wanted to go. Arriving ahead of a rolling dust cloud that moments later engulfed everything with a blinding billowing talcum fine powdery substance.

Neither the black, just recently washed and decently clean Silverhawk nor my mostly black outfit weren’t black anymore. I was certain I was now perfectly camouflaged to blend into the rest of the dusty yellowish landscape. Well I better not put that into the narrative, I was thinking to myself while I was glad I was wearing my face mask. The air of this charming world was a little on the thin side in terms of oxygen and way to hot for comfort. Even though a standard NiOx breather like myself could have survived. At least for a short while, there wasn’t a single molecule of H20 in that atmosphere. GWC 5D, yeah right. This was more like a GWC 6D and in my opinion there was nothing even remotely ′garden′ about this place either.

The building, if you could call the tent like something a building and the red spherical metal thing with it’s door way off the ground and accessible via stack of crates forming a ten step staircase of sorts, emerged out of the settling dust cloud. Surprisingly, none of the clingy dust stuck to the metallic sphere. But then there needed to be moisture, even a little bit to make it stick, I guessed.

The tent was made of heavy white, semi translucent Dura-plast packing tarps glued or stitched together and draped over something large more or less rectangular. A sign, made out of a long piece of the same plastic material and stretched between two metal poles told me that this was ‘Gullster’s Paradise Space Port Main terminal’. A sign of similar design identified the about twenty meter diameter steel ball as ‘Gullster’s Paradise Space Port Administration’.

What struck me odd were the fifty or so colored lights that had been placed around the third plastic sign. ‘Gullster’s Saloon and Restaurant’ right beneath the main terminal designation.

The ‘terminal’ I guessed was about forty meters long and maybe five or six meters tall.

To enter it one had, to step through the weighted curtain that was right underneath the inviting sign. I was fairly sure it wasn’t the lights that enticed me to seek out my business inside.

There was the prevailing wind that was blowing in my direction and the reason for my recent dust bath, the constant rustle of plastic tarping but no other sounds that would suggest this place to be occupied. I didn’t hear any voices or music coming from inside.

Remember what I said about equipment and other beings being faster, bigger and stronger? The very first thing you need to get is the highest classification of weapons permit you can get and then buy yourself an equalizer. Yep, we humans aren’t very good in anything except making weapons and going to war. No matter who or what you hunt there is bound to be a weapon that will do the trick in equalizing some of the otherwise quite unfair advantages, let’s say a Pertharian has over you, unless you are a Pertharian, then of course you are more or less the weapon you need. I carry a variety of weapons and at all the time. I know where they are on my body and can handle them.

I didn’t want to walk through the curtain door with a drawn weapon, but I brushed over the weapon access selector of my right glove and held my thumb on the auto draw release of my SII TKU Mark 5. I never made short cuts when it came to my arms and kept them in the best working condition possible.

As my main side arm I carried a TKU. The Thermo Kinetic based weapon systems of SII were with little improvements and minor design changes around since the Y’All invasion almost fifteen hundred years ago.

There have been many newer developments in terms of personal weapon systems over this long time span, but to this day nothing ever equaled the reliability and sheer killing power of the TKUs. Out of the over four thousand five hundred Union member species. Less than twenty could survive a TKU blast and it was very unlikely that I would ever hunt a Camogi Cluster or tried to go after a Bandrupo. I imagined nothing in terms of standard weapons could harm a Narth and the blast of a TKU would probably only feed a Non Corp with energy or go right through one. There were a few more I could not think of right now, but none of them were likely to become runners. The rest would need serious shields and battle grade armor suits. The weapon released a bolt of superheated plasma, at near light speed and hit whatever target I aimed at with a few tons of kinetic energy and the temperatures found inside a star.

I know a missile weapon is usually the preferred hardware of a Hunter with programmable, intelligent ammunition, and I do have one along as well, but trust me, there aren’t many beings that don’t know about the power of a TKU. Looking down the quarter inch discharge bore hole with an active discharge field takes the fight out of many before there is a need to pull the trigger. And yes I wish I could buy myself a Mark six or even a Mark eight, which is the standard sidearm of the Spatial navy and our Union Army, but civilians and sadly even ex soldiers have a hard time getting these legally and with the necessary carry permit.

Now, I did hear about the legendary TKU 12. Who hasn’t? But if it ever really existed, there was no way in hell anyone would be permitted to carry it, with exception of Admiral Stahl perhaps. Besides I wasn’t hunting Bandrupo.

I brushed the plastic curtain aside and stepped in.

No wonder it was so quiet, there was no one. The place consisted of a single room, with a compact all in one Frontier bar 5000 on one end. Half a dozen tables of various sizes and simple plastic cubes to sit on. The ground was not even covered with anything and was the same yellowish dirt and rock as outside. Only difference it was mostly dust free.

Right across the entrance flap, a rugged encapsulated all environment GalNet terminal, two privacy cells and a Tabil Tosser game. Then came a long plank, resting on two barrels serving as a serving counter. The words Union Post Office on a neat pre lit modern sign above it. There was a green metal box for physical mail, plastic rack with Union Voter forms, Science Corps personal research requests, OOCA information, recruitment information for the Armed Services and a few other forms and pamphlets that made it clear that this desolate and remote place was still a Union world.

There were advertisement posters taped or glued to the thin plastic walls:. Speedsty the cartoon character spaceship of DeNoir NuGas, one for Yellow Ribbon Ship services, three for different brands of beer and a wanted poster of one of the most famous pirates of them all. Mysterious Black Velvet, active somewhere in Freespace.

I was not sure if these images hadn’t been doctored or completely fabricated. No pirate could look that sexy in skin tight leather. Nice to look at I had to admit though. For a moment I was dreaming what I would do with the reward of Twenty million credits for her capture. Not that I had any intention to pitch my Angel’s Wings against a full sized and reportedly well armed Karthanian ship, with Nul froth casters to boot.The poster did not hold my attention for all that long. I had business here and the beer advertisement, especially considering the dry dust ball made me thirsty for an ice cold Miller. Since I supposed to give advise to a potential future hunter, my friend stay away from Tox while on the job. I have one iron rule, not a drop of Tox of anything until the job is done. If I ever would have something like a partner, I’d shoot you dead on the spot for being intoxicated. Nope friend, you need all your senses and then some to make it in this business.

Well standing around didn’t do much and even after waiting for about fifteen more minutes, I was fairly sure no one noticed me landing.

Before I headed out, I decided to spend the outrageous price of eight credits for a cold Fizz-Cola and an auto prepared burger from the operational Serv-matic which represented the ‘restaurant’ of this fancy space port terminal. Eight credits was pricey but considered the distance the ingredients had to travel it wasn’t overly so.

While I had a Serv-matic aboard the ‘Angel’s Wings’ it was even a bigger heap of useless tech parts than my Auto-Nav. Not surprisingly so as it came from the same Corporation, just a different Division. However for the price a good used SII Auto-Chef, I might as easily hire me a real chef for a year or so. Not that there would have been much room for one.

I took off the mask and immediately smelled the sharp stench. Only one thing I knew smelled that way, the shit of those four armed, evil to the core Shiss lizards.

Considering that their declared territory officially begun less than 100 light years to the Galactic south from here, the possibility they raided this place was not a slim one.

I couldn’t really make out the source, but I expected it to be close. One of those extremely dangerous tall, strong and vicious lizards had crapped somewhere and perhaps was still around.

Neither Fizz Cola nor a burger were on my mind now. I hastily replaced the face mask and this time I released the Auto Draw. The TKU jumped into the receptor glove worn on my right hand. Into the audio pick up of my mask I said. “Angel, button up, weapons on standby. That told my ships AI to raise shields and slave the ships weapons to my remote control.

While there was no open war between the Shiss and the Union, relations where anything but friendly. There were raiders that had no open connection to the Shiss government. At least that was the standard excuse of the Shiss for any incident.

I had no intentions to get into a pissing match with a cruiser full of angry Shiss who were eager to tear a human apart just for fun.

Along with my weapon at the ready, my combat HUD had come on and mirrored its data onto the inside of my visor. Told you, friend. Don’t try to save a few creds on personal gear, you won’t die on a soggy burger that your EN-CuliExpert accidentally combined with the fixings of an apple pie and a cola, after a while you might actually get to like some of the rather unusual combinations, but you will end up as glittering shimmer of dissipating atomic ashes in a situation like that. Shiss weapons are designed with Nul in mind and have no problem roasting you to charred bits. Not that going against an unarmed one is a much safer alternative.

The motion sensor and temperature difference visualizer made me aware of a human sized target right behind the weighted plastic flap of the entry way. I knelt behind one of the tables. Nothing in terms of cover of course, but helping me to resent a smaller target, simultaneously I aimed the weapon as a muscular, fit looking man stepped in, wearing the maroon colored pants of an Explorer corps uniform. He had- worn but decent looking Terran All Terrain boots on his feet. I wore the same type of boots on my feet. As I said cutting corners on personal gear is asking for trouble you don’t need. There was no better footwear in the Universe. I heard even Kermac loved to wear them.

Above the pants waist he wore only a not exactly clean looking, at one point probably white T shirt. Broad suspenders held the pants and a wide equipments belt with an assortment of tools, and an ancient Bofors III. Much better known all over as the venerable Bo-Zap Three, a directed Energy weapon with variable beam focus and a decent stored energy capacity. The man appeared human and thanks to the very deep tan, the wide brimmed hat and a mouth and nose covering breath mask, he could have been member of just about any of the many human sub species or descendant of an old colony community. Perhaps not all of them. I was certain he wasn’t Stellaris, too dark for a Vrill or Falkenhorster. He was certainly not Thauran, as these blue skinned bastards didn’t fare well exposed to too much sun and did not tan but more or less just burn.

The man also wore a pair of dust goggles. He had stopped moving as he stared at the weapon I held leveled and aimed at him.“You shoot me, mister and you are in a world of trouble.”

“Depends what you call trouble. Smelling Shiss caca, smells like trouble to me and you don’t look like you poop lizard crap.”

“Nope, but you don’t want to be to close around and smell what I produce either.” He pointed towards the Union post office alcove. “Happens, I am the Post master around here. Shooting me, even as distant from Pluribus as we are, will have Postal police on your tail. That GalNet terminal isn’t fake.”

He had a point, that was indeed trouble of the most serious kind, but I wasn’t just yet prepared to put the gun away.“Never figured it was, but that still doesn’t explain the smell.”

“The pile of crap behind the other side of the tent wall however should. I was about to bury it when some genius decided to create a dust storm. Looking at you however I think the word genius might over reaching things.”

“You realize I have a TKU drained on you. Insulting me is either insane, crazy or you have nerves of Titanium and guts of Ultronit.” I did however lower the gun and slowly replaced it in the holster, keeping my thumb on the Auto draw release however.

“Living here on Gullster’s is sort of insane to be honest.” He said and took off his dust mask.“And I might have turned nuts without knowing, but as I said I am the designated Post Master of a little shitty office at the edge of nothing and the Shiss. But the Post Master I am and shooting me would be the dumbest thing you did ever, even dumber than raising a dust storm.”

“So we have established that I am not the smartest, I can live with that. I am still sort of curious why there is Shiss dung behind your, uhm...space port terminal. But I can live without ever solving that mystery. However If you know the whereabouts of a tall Andorian, goes by Sodiban Renow and flies around with that customized D60 out there; I’d be very grateful and even send something using your post office.”

“There isn’t a war going on between us and the Shiss you know and this place is closer to Shistaa than to Pluribus by magnitudes. Them lizard’s come here to use the XChange selling crap and using the credits they earn to buy non restricted Union stuff. It’s not against the law or anything.”

The man walked behind the bar, took of his hat and tool belt and tied an apron around his waist.“Bar and restaurant now open, stranger.”

I sat down at one of the tables. “A Fizz Cola then and that Gullster Special Burger I’ve seen on the menu. So any idea where I could find an Andorian around here?”

“As a bar keep and restaurant owner. I don’t like to share such information just with anyone. You could be a bad person on top of being a very dusty one and that poor Andorian is hiding from you for good reason.”

“He’s hiding and running for a good reason alright and I am a bad person most of the time.”

The man placed a cold plastic can of soda and a plate with a decent looking burger on the counter of his bar. “No one has yet applied for the wait position, so it’s self service Mister.” I got up walked the few meters to the bar taking the things back to my table. The soda was very welcome as it wasn’t exactly cool inside the tent. The burger was actually quite good for an auto prepped one. Better than what my screwed up Serv-matic fabricated for certain.

He came to the table held out a portable cred reader and I swiped eight credits and a tip of 5 in it.

Without a single word, he went behind the bar untied his apron and retrieved a green jacket and slipped in it.He pointed at a metal disc shaped disc that was pinned to it above the left breast pocket.“As the duly appointed sheriff of Gullster’s however I am very interested why you after said Andorian and if the reason is legit, I tell you where you can find him.”

I activated my bounty hunter licence and he studied the projected holo for a second or two. “I could run that licence you know, that GalNet terminal is working fine, but I buy it. I also know your friend Sodiban Renow is a runner. Poor guy actually, decent fellow for most of his life. Union Citizen and all that and then he and his brother of all people fall in love with the same woman.”

The sheriff that had yet to give me his name sighed. “Crime of passion, that sort of crime will never eliminated from society, I imagine.”

“Probably not, but all he had to do was go to a Court clerk, get a lawyer and all that. Instead of cleaning out his brothers credits, disregarding three summons of the Union court and disregarding a bench warrant. Not to mention selling a load of Boron on the XChange for himself, five thousand tons of it.”

“He didn’t mention that.”

“He was employed by Sunders and Brown Mineral and Ore Dealers Inc. The Boron was destined for a commercial customer of theirs. Sodiban Renow re directed the freighter, sold the stuff for cash credits instead of having it delivered to said customer and used the profits to run. Tried to buy himself a new CITI and all that. He pretty much decided to become a genuine outlaw after that. Doing all kinds of bad things. ”

The man with the dark tan and the multiple titles and jobs said.“He tried that here as well. There is a CITI machine in the school principal’s office.”

“So I gather you are the principal as well and this,” I gestured around me.“is the school?”

“No, Silly hunter. There is an actual town here and believe it or not we do have a genuine Union school. It’s a remote one with only an Avatar teacher and seven students at the time, but its a real Union school. Ms. Perkins, who runs the XChange is also the principal.”

“Okay, then where is Sodiban Renow? ”

“In jail. Or that’s what we call the freight container now, as I put him inside since we never needed an actual jail before.”

“But you needed a Sheriff?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, Sheriff. Can I get your prisoner then?” “Yes in principle you can, but I already called this regions Ranger and he might show up in a few weeks or so. What about the bounty?”

I sighed.“Ah now I get it. You want a share!”

His eyes widened.“A share? So you mean I would, I mean the Community would get a share. I was afraid we would have to pay the bounty and then somehow claim it from somewhere.”

“You aren’t Sheriff for long, right?”

“Nope, I am the Post Master. We only needed a Sheriff since Sodiban Renow tried to break in the School’s office and use the Union CITI machine.”

“They can’t be used without going online and a duly authorized operator present.”

“He didn’t know that, so it seems.”

“No, Sheriff. Gullster owes nothing. As a matter of fact as the elected Sheriff you can confiscate the D20 as it is a FTL capable space craft and was operated without licence or Union registry. It is a piece of crap but still worth fifty or sixty thou even out here.”

He widened his eyes. “Fifty thousand credits?”

“Yeah.”

“The bar and restaurant is closed. The entire terminal is closed.“You finish your burger, if you want get another one. I am getting you the prisoner, wait right here.That’s an order by the way. Sheriff’s prerogative and all.”

“It is no trouble I can pick him up.”

“Nope, you are bound to cover the entire colony with more dust. Or start shooting and doing ‘bad people things’.This is a quiet place and we like it that way. Stay here, Sheriff’s order!”

He put goggles and hat back on then his dust mask and without much further ado he left.

I was slowly chewing. This turned out to be the easiest hunt ever. If it was all true. I couldn’t help it. There was something strange about it all that didn’t add up.

But he was the Post master and apparently the Sheriff too. Going against his order to wait here could be against some local law.

Local laws mean little, especially if they were minor infractions, like that, you say?

Then you know little about our shinny union my friend. The space port no matter how primitive and ridiculous it appeared was a registered port on a registered Union colony. Meaning the port was Federal ground, you follow me so far?

Good!

The guy, most likely also the space port administrator gave me a direct order to stay. Disregarding it was a federal offense, however minor he could report this to the local regional Union court. Get the idea?

I will however not remain forever,, and make sure that neither of these relics out there suddenly leave.

I checked them with more then just my eyes you see, both crafts are cold. Their power plants and engines are not even on sleep mode. They are off. Takes at least ten minutes to get even a small shuttle like this up and running.

It didn’t even take as long as I expected, the guy came back. He had been gone for maybe twenty minutes at most. Brushing the plastic curtain aside he thumbed over his shoulder. Got your friend outside. Say you get paid for your troubles regardless of his condition, right?

Depend on the bounty conditions.

Well he tried to do a number on me and so I shot him. He’s dead.

I wondered about that, did that ‘law-enforcement’ officer shoot the guy because he wanted to make sure he could keep and sell the shuttle? Which was in my estimation a very likely reason.

“What sort of number did he try to do?”

“I guess telling him you were here to pick him up was the wrong thing to do. He didn’t want to go. He’s tall and strong and... well I am the sheriff and he resisted and fought me, end of story.” I got up and brushed past him into the open. There on a simple open bed cargo bed floater, sat the unnaturally folded body of a tall Andorian. There was a ghastly hole right in Sodiban Renow’s forehead, the light of the sun was shining through and the weapon was, considering the charred holes something similar to my TKU, there was plenty of blood all over the face and the body.

I couldn’t think of a reason for those injuries and the blood other than Sodiban had been tortured and perhaps was dead before something punched a hole through his cranium. Well in his case it was dead or alive and the killing was done by the local authorities, no matter how questionable those authorities were.

“Well, I said,“Looks like I got my man and you got yourself a Roomy-Sixty.” “What?”

“That D60 out there is a Galacton Small Crafts and an old Roomy-Sixty model. You going to give me a copy of the incident where you had to shoot the Andorian?”

“Sure. I guess I have to have one for the ranger as well, when he comes, right?”

“I would imagine so.”

The Sheriff ,I learned a little later while I had another cola, went by the name Shin Tsuro, because he had returned and handed me an official report with his name on a CITI verified document. He was indeed the post master as he had used the Post office GalNet station to verify his and my identity.

After I had the Andorian wrapped tight in the same plastic material as the tent building I said to the guy.“Well I be on my way now. Out of curiosity what is it you and I mean the colonists do out here for a living?”

“We scoop the mineral puddles, fill it in bottle and sell them on the XChange. Takkians love that stuff.”

I nodded.“Figures, whenever I thought thee is something utterly useless,there is someone in that Union of ours willing to pay for it.”

“Yeah. Say you get around a lot. I imagine. Did you hear a rumor about the Nul perhaps making peace with the Union?” I silently apologized to the dead Andorian, as I used some additional memory tape to secure his wrapped body to the Cargo rack of the Silverhawk-Monoflash. The darn guy was just so tall and thus considerably longer than the cargo rack.

“Now that would be major news all over the place and I am sure your GalNet terminal works as good as mine.”

I shook my head.“And I don’t listen to all them conspiracy and rumor stuff they have above the 5000 channels. It all always turns out to be exactly that, rumors and crap.”

“Yeah you are probably right. So you think there won’t be peace between the Union and the Nul?”

“Wouldn’t that be bad news for those green scaled behind-your-tent poopers? They fight with the Nul for longer than there is a Union, from what I understand .However I doubt it will ever happen. Them purple bastards don’t even have something like diplomatic relations with us.”

I was satisfied with the result of my taping job and added.“Those purple brutes like to pull the Tigers tail and one of these days they pull to hard and the Assembly lets Stahl do the complaining. They are tough, Mr. Tsuro, those Nul and I bet its not going to be a walk in the park, but when Stahl is done,there won’t be many Nul left to worry about anything.”

The Sheriff-Postmaster-Barkeeper agreed with a nod of his own.“Yeah, that Stahl. He is something. But I bet he doesn’t exist. He’s just some sort of propaganda to keep the Nul, the Kermac and of course the Shiss at bay. I don’t even believe that Devastator really exists. ”

“That’s what they all like to think until he shows up. Well Mr. Tsuro I am on my way for sure now.”

I let him be and went on my way.