The previous day had been uneventful. Grim had gone round to the API admin building to see if they might have had any suitable job opening which might have given him access to either the comms network or the generator. With both unemployment and corruption on Avastan being so high, jobs are very hard to come by unless you have friends in high places and so he is told that jobs are not available.

So the party members spend their time at the warehouse. Jie has been doing a great job with the drilling of the new recruits – the shambolic assortment of stevedores who were lucky to place a shot anywhere close to the targets are now able to handle the assault rifles OK, although a section of Imperial Marines would still make pretty light work of them.

William familiarizes himself with the controls of an A2 having not piloted one of them before. The Grisst Falcon being a newish model out of Glisten originally, it’s a very easy ship to fly.

Jie takes a break from training to work out the route. Having already liaised with the navigator of the Fair Rosamund in order to determine where the crybaby is going to be dropped, she works out the fastest route to jump heading in the opposite direction.

Arvor has been listening in on the Port Authority channels, keeping abreast on developments there. Everything seems pretty quiet at the moment, there seems to be no unusual activity at the port. Since the party arrived a week ago, several of the Free and Far Traders that were there when they arrived have departed, to be replaced by more Traders, with a couple of Subsidized Merchants docked now as well. There’s no new Naval Vessels around though to cause them any alarm.

It’s late afternoon when Arvor picks up the messages that he had been patiently waiting for. The crew of the Fair Rosamund were obviously good to their word as he picks up a lot of traffic between the Gazelle and the Port Authority. With great relief, he announces to the others that the Gazelle is leaving orbit, heading to the crybaby’s location.

With it being (hopefully) the party’s last full night on Avastan, they decide to hit the bars for one last night out among the dubious pleasures of the planet.

The party members crawl out of their beds, nursing large hangovers once more and then head back to the warehouse after breakfast.

Max loads up a crate containing the party’s spare gear and puts that together with the crybaby in the sandcaster barrel and loads it all on the pickup to take it for loading onto the Fair Rosamund.

He is back a little after lunch.

“Right, that’s that all taken care of then,” he says.

“By the way, while I was getting the crybaby onboard, I saw that pirate ship taking off. So that’s another problem out of the way.”

Max then sits with his handcomp, and sighs:

“We’ve spent Cr. 101,000 on this mission so far and that’s all of the party funds gone plus 15,190 that was my own cash. I’m skint now so I’m going to be asking for a loan if there’s anything else we need to buy.”

“Is there anything else now that we need to buy, or is that it?”

Although that’s all the major items of expenditure out of the way, William suggests that it might be better to get some additional medical supplies in because of all of the stevedores that will be coming with the group.

William chips in another Cr.15k to the budget while Arvor gives an additional Cr.9k, thus solving the party’s cashflow problems.

Max takes the cash and heads into the centre to purchase some medical supplies. He is back a couple of hours later with three field medical kits and also a couple of steel girders which Taeva had asked for. She then, with the assistance of Arvor, proceeds to spend the rest of the afternoon making simple but effective reinforced front fenders for the pickups so that they should have no trouble in crashing through the barrier to the maintenance yard.

William speaks to the stevedores while they are taking a break from Jie and Grim’s constant drilling, asking if any of them have any medical experience. While none of them are officially trained medics, he identified three of them who have at least some basic first aid skills and gives them each one of the field medical kits to take care of.

They continue training the stevedores until well into the evening and then call it a night when they see that the troops are getting exhausted.

The party return to the warehouse to continue with their activities of the previous day – working the crybaby and training the stevedores.

Just after lunch and they have the crybaby ready for action. They just need to find someone to deliver it now.

They continue drilling the stevedores until 19.00 then decide to call it a day with them. They’re doing pretty well.

As the party member have spent the past couple of evenings in, everyone is up for another good night out and so they head into the bar area. This time they’re not looking for guards though – they’re looking for spacers who might have come from, and be heading back to, Collace.

They finally find what they are looking for after spending three hours in five bars – the crew of Far Trader Fair Rosamund which will be leaving Avastan for Collace in 36 hours, which means they can fire the crybaby on 138. The crew of the Far Trader hate Avastan as much as the rest of the party does and so have no hesitation in agreeing to fire the crybaby before jump as long as the price is right. Max negotiates the price at Cr.6,000 – that’s Cr.1,500 for each crew member, plus they will ship the party’s spare gear back to Collace for the regular price of Cr.500 for the ton.

The party members shake hands with the crew of the Fair Rosamund and spend the rest of the evening getting elegantly wasted with them.

After breakfast, the party members take the trucks to the location that Grim specified for 11am. As promised, Miguel has assembled 16 of the stevedores who all pile into the trucks where Max leads them all in convoy to the location of the warehouse.

The others lead them into the warehouse, but Max heads off again as he has more shopping to do. He leaves Cr.18,0000 to pay the stevedores as a sign of good faith (double for Miguel as he’s the boss).

While Max is gone, the others tell the stevedores that they have one last chance to change their minds. If they want, they can leave now. If not, then they aren’t going to be allowed to leave the building for a week. None of the stevedores leave though – they all want their ticket to Collace.

Arvor and Grim then proceed to tell the stevedores about the mission. Some of the stevedores are a little nervous when they hear the audacity of the plan, but Miguel calms them down – reminding them of the great life that should await them when they get to Collace.

The party members then tell the stevedores that they will spend the next few days under the instruction of Jie and Grim, who will whip them into shape and teach them how to use an assault rifle in case they haven’t had much experience of them.

Max arrives back mid-afternoon, his pickup laden down with goodies. Inside is Cr.1,000 of rations to feed the stevedores for the next few days, plus weapons and flak jackets for them all.

“That’s another Cr.9,000 for the assault rifles plus ammo, Cr. 5,000 for Improved Flak Jackets for each of them plus another grand for these two little items.”

He hands Grim and William a body pistol each.

“Right, better pick up the stuff for the crybaby now.”

He heads off again, but is only gone an hour, returning with the materials that they previously bought for the crybaby. Arvor starts to put it altogether.

The warehouse is a hive of activity for the rest of the day, with the Jie and Grim instructing the stevedores, while Arvor and William carefully put together the material for the crybaby. They continue working at the warehouse until 9pm, by which time the stevedores are pretty exhausted and so they leave them for the night.

The party assemble as usual for breakfast.

For the day, they decide to split into three groups – Max and Grim will spend the day looking for a warehouse, while Arvor and Jie; Taeva and William both start looking around the second hand car dealers for some cheap, but still-usable pickup trucks as one of them can check the mechanics while the other can take them on test drives.

Everyone heads off on their tasks. By mid-afternoon, Max and Grim have found a medium-sized warehouse in a quiet area of town right on the edge of the city. If all the plans go wrong, then at least it would be possible to land the Falcon here for a while to regroup. Max haggles and gets the payment down to Cr5,000 for the first month with no deposit.

They head back into town and call around the others to see how they are getting on with finding some pickups. Between the two groups, they have managed to find four of the pickups and so Max goes around to join them in order to haggle over the price. He ends up getting each of them for Cr.3.000 as they’re all a bit beaten up and are several years old. They’re all mechanically sound though and should do for the one small job that they need them to do.

They drive the pickups back to the hotel.

After two wild nights on the town, the party members decide to have a quiet night in. Later that evening, Grim gives Manuel a call. Manuel gives him the good news – he and 16 of the other stevedores are up for the job. Grim tells him to tell everyone to meet with the party members at 11am the next day a couple of blocks away from the hotel and Miguel says that he is on the case.

The party members take the opportunity of having a quiet night after their recent excesses.

The party members, several of whom are nursing some evil hangovers from the excesses of cheap booze they were drinking the previous night start heading down to breakfast at 09.00.

A bleary eyed Max joins them at 10.00.

“Well at least I managed to get the uvver 30 tons of Nobble Leather off the ship wivvout the bastards comin’ up wiv some reason to grab ’em.”

“But the Noble Leather is the cheap stuff. The bastards are still sat on Cr.280,000 worth of our gear at ’olesale.”

He sighs. “I’m trying to see ‘ow much it would cost to bung ’em to get the goods released, but the bastards want 100 grand for it – they know ’ow much they’d get for it on the market so they ain’t up for any deals.”

“Hmm, so we need to know where it is stored,” Arvor comments. “This could complicate the “escape” from the downport. However, I assume it is in some sort of standard container.”

“I know exactly where the cargo is,” Max replies. “It’s in the warehouse on the northern side of the starport – completely the opposite side from the Falcon in the shipyards, unfortunately. Quite a few guards around there as well because there’s a lot of stuff in those warehouses worth nickin’.”

“How about this,” Arvor suggests. “Not only do we spring the Grisst Falcon, but we also steal the Black Panther! That should go a long way towards evening the odds with the Gazelle.”

“We can still go with the distraction / stalling of the SDB and two teams re-uniting at the downport, and play it by ear as to whether we can seize both vessels. At the very least, we might disable the pirate and do shipping in these lanes a favour. We will have two decent pilots (Capt. O’Neil and William) – and if anything goes wrong with O’Neil, I can fly in a pinch (although I am better at manning the guns).”

“Bloody ’ell,” exclaims Max. “Sounds bloody ambitious to me. The 60 tons of cargo we got in that warehouse will pretty much fill the entire ‘old of the Falcon. Capacity on them is only 61 tons, so it’ll take time to squeeze the load inside.”

“You’d need a fair few stevedores and their kit to load that and you’d be lucky to get it done in under an hour. And by that time the ‘ole planet will be comin’ after us, not just the Gazelle.”

“Anyone on this planet will have more fear/ loyalty to the people they have to deal with day to day rather than with us,” Taeva says. “Spilling the beans to any of them in advance will likely to get us an early bullet in the head.”

Max nods in agreement. “Yes, that’s true – especially if they are pretty high up in the organization and so have a lot to lose.”

“However, we all know what a shithole this place is an’ ‘ow most people ’ere ain’t got two credits to rub together. What about if someone offered them the chance to say goodbye to this shithole once and for all?”

“There are ten staterooms on an A2 and four fridges. If we all doubled up, it means that we could take up to 18 people with us back to Collace on the ship. Promise them each 10 grand or so to get themselves started an’ it looks like a pretty attractive offer. Shit, if it was me in their shoes, then I’d jump at an offer like that if the risks didn’t make it a suicide job.”

The party members continue to discuss options for getting around the SDB. Max comes up with a suggestion:

“What about this,” he says. “Nearly all of you are good with comms. ’Ow about if you knock up a crybaby? Stick a transmitter in a sandcaster barrel together with a battery, a timer and a recording giving a distress signal”

“Then we could bung a merchant ship to fire the barrel just before they jump out – two days from Avastan. The SDB then has to leave orbit for the long trip out there and that will give us plenty of time to do the job an’ get out of here, travellin’ in the opposite direction.”

“Whatcha reckon?”

The others like the sound of the plan and quickly decide that they should go ahead with it. However, it’s just one small element of the plan – there’s a lot more preparation and planning involved for them to have any chance of taking over the ship. They spend a couple more hours planning until, Grim comes up with the first stab at a plan, which Arvor goes on to upgrade.

“It’s a long shot, but it might just work,” Max comments.

“Before we can do too much though, we need cash,” Max adds. “Grisst might be reimbursing our expenses, but we need to bankroll this job first of all. And the problem is that most of our cash is tied up in the aluminum and nobble leather what the thievin’ bastards are keepin’ ‘old of. I need to turn that other 30 tons of nobble leather into cash fast before we can do much else. I’ll see to it now.”

The others continue planning while Max is away. And they are still planning when he returns three hours later, carrying a plastic bag. He is looking philosophical.

“Well I managed to get our money back on it, plus enough to pay for the freight and maybe enough on top to buy a few drinks, but that’s about it,” he says. “Still, on this bloody planet that’s probably as good a deal as we’re likely to get.”

He empties the contents of the bag on the table.

“Including what’s left in the kitty, we’ve got 85 grand to spend while we’re on this planet, so we can’t go too mental, even if Grisst is going to pay us back. So what’s first on the shopping list?”

The consensus is that the materials for the crybaby are most important, followed by locating a warehouse to use as a base for what will hopefully become their mini-army of stevedores.

“Alright then,” Max says. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose. I’m on the case.”

He then stops.

“Errm … but I don’t really know what I need to make a crybaby. One of you electrical, communications geniuses better come with me.”

Arvor and Grim agree to come along with Max on his shopping expedition – Grim to make sure that it has enough power and Arvor to make sure that it works in the first place.

Three hours later, the party members have everything they need in order to make the crybaby. Radios capable of broadcasting from that far away don’t come cheap though and the tools they need for the job comes to Cr.27,000. Already a big chunk of the party’s cash has gone already. While they are at the starship supplies store, they pick up a spare fusion plug in case Grim’s gambit of tricking the maintenance yard into using theirs doesn’t work. That’s another Cr.10,000 gone. Not wanting to take all of this gear back to the hotel, they tell the store to keep it until they need it.

It’s too late today for Max to start looking for premises now and so he decides he will take care of it the next day.

Instead all of the party members get together in order to start looking for some employees. Rather than heading out to the bars opposite API’s barracks and admin building, they head for the area north of the starport, opposite the freight terminal checking out the bars there. After an hour, they manage to find what they were looking for – a grimy bar which seems to be full of dirty looking stevedores.

The party use their usual tactics – a little flirting from Jie followed by a few bottles of Tequila bought by Grim and the stevedores are the party’s new best friends. After half an hour’s general chatting, Grim realizes that Miguel is the foreman who the rest of the stevedores admire and respect. If Grim can get him on the party’s side, then he should have no problem in signing up as many of the stevedores as they want.

“We can’t afford to offer them much upfront,” whispers Max to Grim, “Not if you’re planning on getting 17 of them. We can afford to give them a grand each as a signing on bonus. Maybe a little more just before we start the mission, but we’re spending money like water right now so we need to keep some in reserve.”

Grim nods.

He waits until Miguel goes to the rest room and then, before the foreman gets back to the table, Grim has a quiet word with him in private. It turns out to be quite a long conversation – obviously moving to Collace is quite a major change in lifestyle. Miguel is a little hesitant at first – particularly because Grim can give him little information about the mission and also tells him that there is some danger involved. Grim points out to him though that he has little to lose other than continuing with his miserable life on this miserable planet.

It looks like Grim has won him around. Miguel says that he thinks he can get 16 of the stevedores to agree to the mission. Grim tells him that they all have 24 hours to make up their mind. He takes Miguel’s phone number from him and says that he will give him a call. They the return to the others at the bar and continue to drink with the stevedores until the Tequila is starting to make them feel ill.

They head back to the hotel to sleep it off.

The tedious journey onboard the Sunwise Star ended up taking even longer than expected. It was only a chance conversation with the navigator a couple of days into jump that informed them that, as Avastan is a moon of a large gas giant rather than a planet, there will be another two days of travelling once they are out of jump. This information leads to groans all round, but they realize that there is nothing they can do about the situation. So everyone just knuckles down to carry on with their training during the day while attempting to get through as much of the ship’s supply of alcohol as possible at night.

The party members are having a late night session when the steward mentions that they will be landing in a couple of hours. They ask her to change the lame holovid that they are now watching for the third time for the forward viewscreen image. He rolls his eyes but then changes the channel.

Knowing that the mission here is to make off with a ship, everyone is keen to see what kind of traffic is in the system.

The small planet before them appears mostly white – it’s going to be another cold one by the look of it. There’s just a smallish strip of green, brown and blue around the equator. Fortunately this is where they are heading to.

They break through the atmosphere and can see the lights of Avastan City below them as dawn breaks over it. It’s a similar size to Newland City – around half a million, with some farms dotted around it. The city is located on the western coast of one of Avastan’s larger seas. The starport is to the west of the city, away from the sea. It’s built very close to the city, with the startown area merging straight into the downtown area.

The party members are more interested in the ships that are around though. Worryingly, the first ship they see is a Gazelle-class SDB in orbit over the city.

Getting closer, they see the starport below them. The rambling starport is relatively well lit. It appears as if the shipyards are to the south of the starport. There are around a dozen ships dotted around the starport, of which five are Far Traders. The Grisst Falcon could be any one of them. There are also a couple of Type-S scouts around plus a ship that none of the party members have seen before. A 200-tonner, it is flat and wide, looking a little like an elongated manta ray.

The Sunwise Star lands at an allotted bay at 0600 and the party members collect their baggage. A ground vehicle with comes to dock with the ship and two scruffy looking individuals enter the airlock. The stewards cycle the locks and the two guys enter clutching a bag of respirators.

“You will be needing these, senors and senoritas,” one of them says flashing a smile. “You no can breathe and you will die. Will not be nice welcome to Avastan!”

The two laugh.

“How much?” asks Max.

“To you, amigo, just Cr.500 each.”

“Cr.500,” Max exclaims. “You are ‘avin’ a bleedin’ laugh. They’re only worth a hundred.”

The guy shrugs and laughs. “But without them I don’t think you will get to the terminal.”

“I’d rather where me friggin’ vacc suit than pay you bastards Cr.500 for each of them.”

“OK, muchacho, I make it Cr.400 each.”

Max haggles a little and gets the price down to Cr.250 each for the respirators.

“Fuckin’ ’ell,” he moans as he keys the credits over. “We ain’t even got off the ship yet an’ I already ‘ate this fuckin’ planet.”

The party members don their overpriced respirators and leave the ship. The air is crisp, but the sun is only just creeping over the horizon so it should warm up later. The cold weather gear shouldn’t be necessary.

“I better stay ‘ere an’ sort the cargo out,” Max says. “I don’t trust these pillocks not to mess it up.”

“Or the thievin’ locals to nick it all.”

“So where are the rest of you goin’?”

“The only information that we have is that Captain O’Neill is under house arrest at the Miramar Hotel,” William reminds the others.

“We need to stay somewhere, so we might as well stay there,” he suggests.

No one has any other suggestions and so they head out of the starport. They are immediately accosted by a bunch of swarthy looking individuals.

“You need taxi, senor? I give you good price!”

“No, you come with me, senor.”

The taxi drivers start to jostle with one another. If it gets any worse, then a fist fight is going to break out.

The party members eventually agree to be bundled into a large, beaten up air/people-carrier and the driver sets off at such a speed that the G-forces push them back into their seats.

“Miramar Hotel, please,” William says.

They have been travelling for over half an hour. The city looks quite new, but it seems as if no one has bothered to maintain anything at all here since the day it was built. The cheap buildings are all crumbling; the roads either compacted earth or potholed. There is no sign of anyone on the streets, but it is still early in the morning.

The figures on the meter flashing so fast that it’s difficult to read them when Arvor realizes that they’ve pretty much been going around in circles ever since they left the starport, a fact that he mentions to Jie.

Calmly, Jie gets her laser carbine and points it at the taxi driver’s head.

“Hotel. Now.”

“Si, si, senorita,” the taxi driver says, quaking with fear.

The Miramar hotel turns out to be only 2km from the starport. The driver points to the meter and says that the journey came to Cr.200. Jie offers him a deal – Cr.50 and none of his limbs get surgically removed by her carbine. He reluctantly accepts Jie’s offer.

The Miramar is 10 floors high, the shape of a three-pointed star. Arvor looks around. There’s a grav pickup parked opposite with a couple of bored looking heavies watching them and the entrance to the hotel. They pick up a radio and are calling someone.

The group heads through the simple airlock which keeps oxygen in the hotel. The hotel has seen better days. The lobby is empty apart from two more toughs carrying ACRs. They study the party members carefully as they come in, but don’t make a move.

There is someone behind the counter dozing, a trail of drool down one side of his mouth. Arvor rings the bell, startling him awake.

Six rooms are negotiated. The price is Cr.100 per night – too much for a shithole like this really, but no one can be bothered to start yet another argument over it, especially with the two heavies watching their every move. The receptionist hands everyone keycards and tells them that their rooms are on the third floor.

Everyone heads to their rooms to freshen up. William spends a little time on his handcomp getting a little information that will be of use for the mission.

An hour later and William calls everyone into his room so that they can discuss their options, not wanting the heavies in the bar area to overhear anything.

William tells them all that he has found out about Avastan in general.

He then shows them some satellite images of the starport, although they are not terribly high resolution. Launch pads and runways are in the centre of the starport; passenger terminal is on the east side; freight terminal on the north side; API’s offices and all of the administration on the west side, and the shipyards on the southside.

The shipyards are able to take ships up to 600-tons. The repair yards never seem to have really taken off though as most lines in the region prefer to make them in Collace. So the operators started working the same scam that they worked on Grisst – offering discounted prices and then upping the price so as to seize the ships when payment was not made. In the past they have only pulled this stunt on tramp freighters, knowing that the owner/operators would not have the resources to do anything about it. It seems as if they are upping their game though by taking on a small line like Grisst’s – or else they didn’t do their homework to find out how large a company Grisst Enterprises is.

The Grisst Falcon looks like she should be a nice ship – a totally standard A2 Far Trader which is around 20 years old – still pretty new for a ship. She has been regularly serviced throughout her history and passed all her tests – backing up what Ana Pyriem said about it being impossible that she needed so many replacement parts. She is armed with twin triple-turrets, each loaded with a beam laser/missile rack/sandcaster.

Captain O’Neill seems like he’s an excellent captain. He’s pushing retirement now – well into his sixties, but his resume is good. He’s repelled a few pirate boarding attempts in the past and received a couple of medals for his services to the Naval Auxiliaries during the Fourth Frontier War. He seems like the cantankerous sort who doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

William has found a small advertisement in a recent edition of the Avastan Reporter – that the ship will be auctioned on 140-1106 by API. The ad is such a small one that it looks as if they are deliberately wanting as few people as possible to know about it.

The party members discuss various ideas – they realize that they need a lot more information before planning any action. To cover more ground, they decide to split up – Jie and Grim will buy a bottle of cheap booze on the way and head to the grungiest part of the startown close to the API offices in the hope of chatting with some off duty members of the security division. William will head to the auctioneer’s office posing as an interested buyer. Taeva and Arvor will see if they can find out how to contact Captain O’Neill.

They agree to keep in commo contact and then meet up at 20.00 at a cantina which they saw a couple of blocks away from the hotel.

Under the pretense of going for a stroll, Taeva and Arvor look around the building. The two heavies in the grav/pickup are still parked on the opposite side of the street from the hotel, keeping watch.

They look up at the building. They see that trying to sneak in through a window is going to be practically impossible. Because of the thin atmosphere, all of the buildings in Avastan are sealed so that there is a breathable atmosphere inside. As a result none of the windows open. Although it could be possible to break a window with some force, the leak in oxygen would surely set alarms ringing immediately.

They head back inside and head for Arvor’s room where Arvor puts a call into reception:

“Hi, can I speak with Captain O’Neill, please?”

“No, senor,” the receptionist replies. “Is no possible. No one is to call with Capitano O’Neill.”

He puts the phone down.

He thinks for a moment and then calls Max. Max sounds very flustered.

“Is everything alright?” Arvor asks.

“No it ain’t alright,” Max says angrily. “That facking dickhead of a purser facked up the facking paperwork for some cargo of fruits they were carrying and so the Port Authority has seized the whole cargo – most of which is ours. I’m trying to sort it all out, but it ain’t easy because they’re all a bunch of thievin’ shysters.”

“Ah,” Arvor says. “I was hoping you could rustle up a pizza guy’s uniform and some pizzas.”

“You should be able to ’andle that yourself,” Max replies. “Everythin’s for sale on this planet it seems. Order some pizza and then off ‘ooever comes to deliver it a month’s salary for ‘is uniform. Tell him to tell his bosses that ’e was tumbled on the way. If ’e still don’t want to do it, then tell ’im that you really will tumble ’im for it.”

Arvor puts the plan into action and a pizza delivery boy arrives within the hour. As Max suggested, Arvor offers money for the uniform. The boy is worried that he will get into trouble. But the offer of Cr.300 he decides is worth being shouted at for a while. The pizza boy departs and Arvor gets dressed in the uniform.

Arvor starts searching for some heavies from the top floor working down. He finds what he is looking for quickly, on the 9th floor. There are a couple of goons lounging around outside the door to one of the rooms, dressed in cloth with SMG’s.

“Hey, hombre, you no allowed ’ere. This floor is closed.”

“I have pizza for El Capitano,” Arvor says.

“Is no possible,” the guard says. “He no have phone in there.”

“Mr Jiminez sent it for him. And some for you two also.”

The guards look at one another. They seem to find it odd. They shrug.

They beckon Arvor to come closer and ask for the pizzas. They look over them carefully, checking to see if there are any messages hiding under the pizza, but find nothing.

“OK, senor. We take it in for him. No one allowed inside the room with El Capitano. You can go now.”

Meanwhile, William takes a cab to the address given for the auctioneers. He’s dropped off some 20 minutes later outside a dingy looking office block. He studies the nameplates outside. Most of the offices here belong to lawyers. He goes through the airlock and makes his way to the address of Domingo & Cruz S.A – the company handling the sale.

After waiting in the lobby for half an hour, he is led through to the dingy office of Manuel Domingo. Manuel is not exactly overly welcoming.

“So Senor, you are the gringo who is asking about the Grisst Falcon. Why you wanna buy her? She big lump of turd. Everything is a wrong with her. You use her – you misjump – you end up in middle of star and burn to death like my wife’s chimichanga. Is-a this what you want?”

William humors him, saying that his company only has a small budget and is looking for a fixer-upper. He asks whether it would be possible for his engineer to take a look at exactly how bad she is.

Manuel shrugs and is silent for a moment. He seems to be looking for an excuse to say no. But he can’t find one.

He shrugs again:

“OK, si,” he says. “She sitting in maintenance bay dos.”

He scribbles something down on a piece of paper, signs and stamps it.

“Give this to Head of Maintenance and he will let you and your engineer take a look at her.”

“Have you got any other ships for auction currently?” William asks.

Manuel shakes his head. “No, just this uno. You come back in another month or so and maybe we have another.”

“Is the Grisst Falcon secured in any way?” William asks.

Manuel studies William carefully. He didn’t like that question at all.

“Why you ask that question, senor? What is it to you?”

Meanwhile, Jie and Grim ask the taxi drivers where people go for a good time in the startown. The taxi driver delivers them just 3km away, just a block away from the main admin building of API in the starport.

They’re in the right place – on this street every building is a bar, a tacky looking disco or a bordello. But it’s still morning and so it looks like a ghost town. They head to a cafe to drink some coffee while they wait for the place to start to come to life.

A little after midday and the shutters to a couple of the smaller bars open and the pair of them wander inside. They order a couple of cervezas and wait until there’s a bit of trade. A handful of security types in scuffed navy blue cloth armor come in and take their respirators off.

Jie sits at the bar trying to look slutty. And easily succeeds.

“Hola! Niña! You want come sit with us? Your pimp – he can come too!”

Jie and Grim sit with the guys and make small talk. Grim clicks his fingers and asks the waiter for a bottle of tequila, which the guards willingly help them to drink.

As they get more and more drunk, the pair of them tap the guards for information.

They learn that the CEO of API is Jiminez Garcia, but most people on Avastan call him ‘The Pigeon’.

Why ‘The Pigeon’?" asks Grim.

“Because every three months he fly here, he shit on everything and he fly out again!” the guard says, the others laughing loud.

Jie and Grim learn that the expression ‘while the cat’s away, the mice will play’ most certainly applies to API. It sounds like a complete shambles of an organization. Although it owns well over half of the assets of everything on Avastan, every division of the company seems to be out for what it can get, constantly trying to out do one another to feather their own nests.

The company has entered a vicious cycle. It’s been corrupt since day one and so profits were never as good as they hoped they should be. API tried to cut costs by reducing salaries, which led to greater and greater corruption as everyone tries to make a living.

“He who does not steal from API, he steals from his family,” laughs another of the guards.

Jie and Grim get the idea that pretty much everyone is for sale on Avastan. But whether they stay bought and don’t doublecross their buyers is another matter completely.

A little while later, Grim gets a call. It’s William. There’s a strange click on the line and then Grim answers: “What!” in a very loud voice. William hears salsa music in the background and thinks he detects Jie belting out a tune with an all-male chorus.

“We’re all set to visit the ship so you can check it over. I, ah, take it that you’re, um, engaged right now? I’m a bit worried that the brokers, a law firm called Domingo & Cruz, might change their minds. They didn’t seem too happy to have a potential buyer. I think we should act fast. Are you sober? No, scratch that, can you pretend to be sober?”

“Roger ’dat, Perfesser Dingle Pants. Commencing Operation Sober, er, Soberiety?” Grim chuckles. “Yeah, that’s right. Hey Jie, come say hi! The geek is on the phone…what? No, keep singing then…wait, I’m fergettin’ something…oh, yeah…”

There is the sound of a medicine bottle cap being unsnapped, pills shaken out, a hard swallowing noise follwed by the sound of liquid being gulped. A long pause, then a still slightly slurring voice…

“Roger that Will, good thing I brought some AlcAway pills at the liquor store. They won’t make me sober but they weaken the buzz pretty good. These boys are almost out for the night. Let us say our goodbyes, then I’ll get one of these pills into the lounge singer formerly known as Jie and we’ll meet up with you. Damn, says here on the label that the price of using these things is “an extraordinarily strengthened hangover”…

“Meet me in front of the passenger terminal in thirty minutes,” Will says.

Grim and Jie say farewell to their new friends and leave the bar. Jie heads back to the Miramar to meet up with Taeva and Arvor while Grim gets a separate taxi to meet up with Will. Once they are together, they head to the southern entrance which leads to the maintenance yards.

A couple of hours later and they return to the hotel. They head to Arvor’s room to reveal what they discovered.

William brings up a satellite image of the starport and fill in the blanks as to what buildings are what.

Grim then goes into more detail:

“The south side of the starport has a high fence around it – it looks electrified and there’s razor wire on the top as well. There are guard towers every couple of hundred meters with a couple of guards in each of them, one of which has an LMG. They didn’t seem too alert though.”

“Entry to the maintenance yard is through a gate located between the drydocks and the fuel tanks. There’s a squad of five on guard here, armed with ACRs checking documents of everyone who comes in.”

“The Grisst Falcon is in the second of two pairs of drydocks. There’s plenty of cover around in these things. There were two squads of five guarding the ship – one squad inside the ship and one squad outside, again armed with ACRs.”

“The ship looks spaceworthy. There’s some fuel in the tanks – maybe half full. It’s easily enough to get us to the gas giant, but not enough to make the jump.”

“The only way that they’ve immobilized the ship by the look of it is to take out the fusion plug for the maneuver drive.”

This news is met by looks of confusion from most of the party members.

“They are like spark plugs on a ground car,” he explains. “You need them to jolt the M-Drive into life when you start it.”

“They are glass tubes about 1.5m long and about 30cm wide. They are fragile so need to be kept in padded boxes. The tube and box together weight about 10 kilos.”

“Are they easy to get hold of?” Arvor asks.

“Yes most ships would keep a spare as they burn out after a few years. New ones cost around 10k a-piece.”

“How long to put one in?” asks Taeva.

“Five to ten minutes roughly,” Grim replies.

“The API barracks are on the southside of their office block, maybe 600m from the dry dock” Grim continues. “We didn’t see much sign of activity while we were there. But there are vehicles parked outside – we saw a couple of G-carriers and five semi-armored air/rafts.”

“Any more questions?” he asks.

Max arrives back, looking not at all happy.

“Bastards,” he shouts. “Absolute facking bastards.”

“They won’t release the cargo on the Sunwise Star. The idiot purser on the ship screwed up the paperwork for some consignment of fruit that they had on board – only 10 tons of it – and so they’ve seized the whole cargo – 60 tons of which is ours.”

“The Captain of the Sunwise Star is saying that he can’t pay or won’t pay the fines and so there’s a stalemate going on. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“This bloody planet – should never ’ave come ’ere in the first place.”

The others discuss the options for getting into the starport. Arvor suggests that taking out the generator should be a key part of the plan. Grim explains that it can’t just be taken out with a single RAM grenade. It’s going to mean getting inside the generator building and planting a significant sized charge.

He tries to pick up the Port Authority radio messages and is able to pick up the channel within a few minutes and can listen in to the chatter. There doesn’t seem to be a lot happening there at the moment.

He gives some thought to the problem of the SDB in orbit overhead, very much aware that it would make light work of the A2. He suggests a diversion.

Max nods in agreement. “At least there’s only one of the fackers. If we can arrange for it to have already been sent off on some mission and is well away from the starport when we go in,then we should be OK.”

“It will need to be a long way from here though. They’ve got a Gazelle. All we’ve got is a lumbering old cow. And it will take us days to get to the gas giant and then out to jump distance again so we need a bloody good head start on them.”

William is concerned about the danger of harming the guards, worried that it will make their actions criminal.

“This ’ole bloody planet is corrupt,” counters Max. “If I ‘ad a nuke I’d wipe the ‘ole bloody thing off the map. API ain’t the most popular company in the subsector because of all of the stunts they’ve been pullin’. I don’t reckon that we’ve got nothin’ to worry about as soon as we’re out of the system.”

Max stifles a yawn, remembering that no one got any sleep the night before due to the Sunwise Star’s arrival in the night. He looks at his watch.

“I need to head down to the starport again,” he says. “The ship that’s carrying the other 30 tons of Nobble Leather should be arriving soon. I need to be there to check all the papers carefully so we don’t ’ave problems with that one as well.”

“I’ll see you all for breakfast tomorrow. Don’t expect me too early though – I reckon I ’ave a long night ahead of me.”

Max heads out and grabs a taxi back to the starport.

“I want to head back to the bars where we were earlier,” Jie says. “It was too quiet at lunchtime. The place should be more lively now. Anyone else want to join me?”

Having nothing else better to do and realizing that there could be more useful information to obtain, the others decide to all head with her.

Jie was right. The place is completely packed now, full of off-duty security guards plus spacers from the adjacent port.

They head for one of the busiest bars – it’s heaving with patrons and girls of the night, dancing to the sound of a mariachi band. The party members all grab bottles of cervezas and watch the entertainment. After half an hour though, the mariachi band takes a break and the entertainment changes to a live donkey show.

Everyone in the room is transfixed by the show and so there’s no point in trying to engage anyone in conversation until it’s over.

Once it has finished, Jie smiles at a table full of drunk guards and is invited over to join them. They don’t seem to mind when the others join them too, especially when they order a couple of bottles of tequila to share with them. Everyone is feeling pretty chatty.

“What’s with that ship in the port?” Jie asks one of them. “The one that looks like an elongated manta ray? I’ve never seen a ship like that before.”

“Eez good you no see ships like that before,” the guard says with a grin. “Eez Pirate Interceptor, Black Panther belonging to Captain M’tanga Bulawezi. You see that ship out in midspace and eet one of the last things you gonna be seeing, senorita!”

“Have you any idea where Captain M’tanga might be staying?” asks Arvor.

“No, senor,” the guard replies, “But he is sure to be around here somewhere enjoyin’ the fun of the startown. He is very easy to spot. His skin is black like ebony, he has long dreadlocks and his mouth is full of gold teeth.”

Arvor nods and thanks their new friend for the information.

“Let’s split up,” Arvor suggests. “This area is not so big and he does stand out by the sound of it.”

The party members split up and start searching the bars for M’tanga. Arvor’s hunch was right – it takes only ten minutes before Taeva calls in to say that she has spotted him in the Lucky Lucky Club. Everyone meets up again and then they enter the Club. It says ‘Disco’ on the sign, but inside it’s obviously a bordello. There’s a dozen in M’tanga’s gang – an evil-looking bunch who seem to be spending money fast and furiously by the amount of bottles on their table and the attention they are getting from the girls who are hanging all over them.

The party members continue chatting with their new friends for several more hours until tiredness and drunkenness get the better of them and they head back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

The Sunwise Star is scheduled for a departure time of 06.00 and so it’s an early start for everyone. Hyrm drives the Traske family to the starport with the other party members following them in a couple of air/cabs and they arrive at the starport at 05.00.

The ship looks reasonable enough, although the staff don’t inspire much confidence. They all look half-asleep still and as if they were on the booze last night. The captain is nowhere to be seen as the two stewards are left to welcome everyone onboard and help everyone with their luggage.

There’s an emotional farewell as Hyrm, Shania and Taeva’s younger sister hug her goodbye. There are a lot of tears, especially when Taeva avoids the question as to when they might see her again. Hyrm shakes everyone firmly by the hand, thanking them over and over for all their help over the last month.

The boarding ramp is moved away and the airlock door is closed. Taeva can see her family members still stood watching as the Free Trader maneuvers to the launch pad. At 06.00, the ship takes off into the cold skies of Tarsus and breaks through the atmosphere less than an hour later.

The party members settle in for a long journey as the ship begins its two day journey to jump distance first of all and avail themselves to the hospitality that their high passage tickets offer them. It soon becomes apparent that it’s not going to be such a ‘high’ experience as they were hoping for. The purser, Glen Kwouk, and second steward, Julie Briggs, both seem to be pretty incompetent and the food is terrible. It’s a little better than the Uguin’s Princess experience, but not a lot.

Once the ship is safely through the atmosphere, Captain Jacque Kriseu comes through. He has an arrogance to him though and a disinterest in the passengers, just offering a nod in everyone’s direction before sitting himself down in front of the holovid projector and chain smoking some foul-smelling cigarettes.

There are only seven passenger staterooms onboard and the party occupy six of them. The seventh belongs to Lic. Marcos Hernandez, a native of Avastan who is returning from a vacation on Tarsus. He’s a shifty looking guy in a cheap suit who keeps himself to himself and interacts little with the others. He says that he is a lawyer on Avastan, but refuses to be drawn into details.

The party members soon realize that, if there’s any entertainment to be had onboard for the next nine days, then they are going to have to make it themselves.

The party gets together later on in the morning after the late night celebrating.

Max has a busy day ahead of him checking the trade goods and arranging delivery to the ships. He takes the eticket docket numbers from William and then drives himself to the starport in one of the air/rafts.

The others say goodbye to Billy-Bob and Clint in the knowledge that they won’t have need of their services any longer as there is no reason for them to leave Newland before they leave. Billy-Bob and Clint were both delighted with their bonuses and tell the party that they would be very happy to serve the party members again should their travels bring them back to Tarsus again any time soon.

After that, the party members find themselves at loose ends. They go for a wander around Newland once again, but it’s bitterly cold outside now as it’s midwinter. The somewhat claustrophobic, yet climate controlled, Collace Highport seems a lot more welcoming these days than being on a chilly dirtside. So the party members spend much of the day in their rooms, continuing with their studies.

Max joins the others while they are at dinner. He looks tired but tells them that he has arranged everything now. He beams them all their etickets for the Free Trader, Sunwise Star, which will be shipping all of the aluminum together with 10 tons of nobble leather; the remaining 30 tons coming in on a Far Trader scheduled to leave some 12 hours after the Sunwise Star arrives at Avastan.

Everyone is down for breakfast, the Traske family still chatting constantly. Max, however, isn’t listening. He’s going through the latest draft of the contract that SuSAG’s lawyer had emailed over late last night.

“Looks OK to me,” he says.

He makes a call, clarifying a few points here and there.

“Our lawyers say they’re ‘appy wiv it as well, so I reckon it’s a goer.”

“Can you take care of this for me from now on, guys?” he asks. “I need to find us some goods for the trip to Avastan.”

The others are only too happy to obliged, the small city of Newland now running short on fresh and interesting attractions for them.

Taeava’s sister spends the day showing Shania, Taeva and Hyrm around the sights of her city and they take a lot of photos. Taeva escorts them to the offices of Messrs. Landell, Aronstein and Goldberg Esqs. for 16.00. Arvor, Grim and Jie watch the area. SuSAG’s usual undercover air/raft is there on the opposite side of the road. Grim waves at them just to piss them off. The occupents pretend not to see, reading holopapers instead.

As usual, John Grantham’s limo pulls up dead on 16.00 and the goons escort him, and their Senior VP of Legal Affairs into the expensive officers. John Grantham smiles benignly over everyone, making a great fuss to Shania and her daughter. Hyrm harrumphs.

Shania and John sit at opposite sides of the table with a copy of the contract in front of them. John reads it again. The Senior VP of Legal Affairs points at something and whispers.

“Section 2, Paragraph 2 Clause (b) Point (iii) – after further deliberation, we’ve decided that we can’t go with that one. We want it taken out.”

The party members sigh. But Messr. Goldberg gets pissed. “Bullshit, Solomon – don’t try and pull any of your ‘nibbles’ on us at this late stage. This was all agreed last night. My clients will walk if they don’t have that clause in it.”

He theatrically sweeps both copies of the contract off the table and stands over a shredder.

“It this what you want to do? Piss this deal away? Are you out of your fucking minds?”

Solomon isn’t standing for that and rushes over and grabs the contract out of his hands. “Bullshit theatrics – your client need this deal more than we do.”

The pair of them start squabbling. John sits back looking pissed off for five minutes his face getting redder and redder.

“Fucking lawyers, always want to wave their cocks about.”

He notices the Traskes sitting on the opposite side of the table and reddens with embarrassment. “Sorry, Ma’am, I forgot there were ladies present.”

He grabs both copies of the contracts and scribbles his signature on them angrily before passing them over to Shania. Shania daintily adds her signature.

It’s done.

John gets very slimline handcomp from his jacket pockets and keys over the cash. Shania’s eyes go wide as she sees the amount of zeros. She goes over and gives John a big hug, which embarrasses him all the more.

“Well, Madam, congratulations on your new home. I hope that you enjoy a very nice life with it. Now we must be going.”

The suits all shake one anothers hands and then they are gone.

“Looks like we should have a celebration tonight.” Hyrm says. "No one is against the idea.

They head back to the hotel to change. They find Max angrily pacing round the lobby bellowing into his mouthpiece.

“But I don’t want the fucking Nobble leather at that price. There’s so much of that shit on the market that you should be paying me to get rid of it for you. “I jus’ want the fuckin’ aluminum.”

“Bastard,” he shouts as he slams the phone down.

He lights another cigarette and paces around thinking.

“Hmmmmm, it will be a risky one this one – especially after freight costs. Could make a little on it or lose a little. It’s against my religion to go empty handed though.”

“You boys in a gambling mood?” he asks. “If so, we all need to get our wallets out again.”

“I can get 50 tons of aluminum at 75% of wholesale. That should earn us a little bit. But the supplier wants to bundle it with 40 tons nobble leather and the best that he will offer is 85% of wholesale. Avastan is a total shit hole so it will be tough to make much, if anything on that.”

“It comes to Cr.289,500 in total, but I need to find a ship to carry it as well and so there will be some freight costs on top.”

The others are happy to leave the decision to Max. He then gets back on the phone and starts looking for ships that are going to Avastan.

He seems happier once he gets off the phone.

“I managed to get us enough space for our needs at just Cr.200/ton. That’s a result for sure. I was expecting we’d ’ave to pay a lot more than that.”

“There’s a free trader and a far trader both leaving on 119 with enough space between them to take everything, so we might as well travel on one of them.”

“So I need Cr.307,500 for the goods and freight and the kitty will need topping up if we’re stuck here for another four days.”

“If I use the Cr.180,000 from the Tarsuline, can everyone put 23k in the kitty so that we have everything covered?”

The others agree, trusting Max’s judgement in the matter. After all, he did earn them a lot on his last two trades.

Everyone then heads out for a celebratory dinner on achieving such an excellent result for the Traske family, which lasts well into the night.