This is the first preamble for the Syndicate of Free Traders in the Ng'anda Chronicles, an upcoming EV: Nova plugin with my storytelling and the incomparable Quistorff doing the artwork. Rampant speculation and questions are highly encouraged!
Ng'anda Chronicles Preambles
Syndicate of Free Traders part One
Rough Landing
The D'jinni exited the bore in a beat in the Oberon system that the powers-that-be on the planet had decided to build a gate to, then, when the war was officially recognized, decided to stop building. Isaac Slavisek looked up from the copy of Diana Price's The Legend of Sarq'eth he was watching on the D'jinni's computer console and swiftly went from the lethargy of a bore to action. With one swift movement he both swept the bag of potato chips he had been grazing on under the D'jinni's console and ejected the small videodisk from the computer system, then placing it into it's jewel-case and snapping it shut with a satisfying click. Isaac settled slowly into his pilot seat, gripped the D'jinni's yoke tightly with one hand, hunched over the console, reaching out with all his senses, totally alert. Hyperspace was essentially boring: back in realspace there was possible danger.
The Oberon system was two or three systems in from the edge of the Terran Republic. With only a small listening post/scanning station and a laughable defense fleet - a squadron of Hawk 751-As based on an old Harpy that hadn't be refitted since the Feline War - it was a haven for mavericks, pirates, mercenaries and Syndicateers. It was one of the most dangerous places, natural phenomenon like supernovae, black holes and nebulae notwithstanding, in the galaxy.
This, of course, made it the perfect meeting point for Isaac and his "client."
Isaac briefly considered bringing the D'jinni's hidden weapons online but decided against it. His current mission depended on his not getting a fly-by frisking by the planet's defense fleet. If he needed help, he'd simply have to call the Sol Navy forces in orbit - a thought that made Isaac smile. Asking the Navy! It wouldn't be much help against any ship more powerful than an Orc gunboat fresh out of drydock, but even an old Harpy was good proof against weak fighters, lightly armed freighters, and obsolete gunboats.
None of which described the D'jinni, which gave Isaac the right to be cautious. Activating the weapons was out, but Isaac did divert power to the shielding. A few extra terawatts surrounding the D'jinni would be very helpful.
With his free hand, Isaac flipped open the D'jinni's microphone and contacted the station. "This is Captain Isaac Slavisek of the D'jinni," he announced, "Tee-Tee-Ess One-Fifty-Three."
To Isaac's surprise, the response was a chuckle. "So, Isaac!" a man's voice said on the other end of the line. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
Isaac recognized the voice but not the name: an old friend of his from pilot school. Back from what was another life. Isaac was getting a little nervous: this complicated things. On the one hand, this person was living on an iconoclastic planet; but was that to tame it or because he loved it?
Isaac responded: "Eh, I have a cargo run." Not a complete lie. "Sixty liters of compressed deuterium, for this guy that refines fuel. Need to dump it at Mesa." Isaac thought carefully for a moment, before adding: "Good to hear from you again, ah..."
"What, forgot my name already?" Isaac winced as the old friend laughed. "Just call me Frank, then. Well," and Isaac could almost see the man shifting in his seat from the change in voice, "if you can just transmit your PIN codes, I'll send you on your way."
Isaac nodded, tried not to sigh audibly enough for Frank to hear. He didn't want to take the chance of using his PIN. "I have a trader's transponder on my ship. I think that I can land without..."
"Isaac," Frank sighed, "I really don't have time for this. Please transmit the codes. Now."
Isaac grimaced. He took his Personal Card from the space between his shirt and his chest, removing the chain he had run through it to make a pendant, and said an inaudible prayer over it as he swept it through a slot in the side of his console. "Transmitting codes," he sighed. Then he mentally kicked himself.
There was a long silence. Isaac's eyes flickered to the button that would get his weapons to hot standby. He might have to run, and it would be at least twelve hours before he could bore another wormhole. He couldn't last unless he camped out in a gas giant or a planet's ring. He had tried it once and had no desire to repeat the experience... and Isaac didn't want to think about the odds he'd be captured.
Finally, a cough and Frank's amused voice sounded from the station. "Ah, Isaac, well, I suggest that in the future, you don't hire such a slip-shod hacker to tamper with your files."
Isaac rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. "How much will this cost, Frank?"
"Now that is the question, isn't it?" Frank merrily retorted. "You said you had a hold of raw fuel, didn't you?"
Isaac bristled. "Yes, but it's meant for..."
"Your mysterious client, yes," Frank finished. "My guess is that he's a Syndicateer, am I right?"
Isaac nodded absentmindedly. "And if he is?"
"If he is, then, well, a little administration fee of 15 liters of fuel might prevent other people from looking into it."
Isaac had been expecting this, and outlaw etiquette demanded his counteroffer. "I can't spare more than 10 liters."
"10 liters then. I'll arrange for my people at Mesa to take it off your hands." Isaac could tell that Frank was thinking of something to add. A few seconds later, he did. "And, Isaac..."
"Yes?"
"For the Cause. Especially if it'll get this Republic red tape off from around my neck."
Isaac chortled. "For the Cause. En'anda ei Ng'anda mi'trahz!"
"Whatever that means," Frank muttered before signing off. Isaac waited a few seconds, looking down at his sensor readout for approaching ships. Finding none, he tightened his grip on the D'jinni's yoke and sent her blazing through the atmosphere, friction sparking on the particle shields.
"Thank god for small favors," Isaac said, smiling, as he plotted a course for Mesa.
(This message has been edited by moderator (edited 06-10-2002).)
