Elan
Teshbulr City
Future Plowshares Suite

Halura’s vines and leaves rustled as he tore the wire report from the printer. There had been another raid by Thrynn ships and a convoy of plutonium freighters caught the brunt of an attack party. The majority of the loss had been financial, but several Elowan had been killed during the skirmish near the downspin border. The raids continued and the death toll rose inexorably, but there was a new reason for action. A host of fractures were spreading across the wall and opportunities were growing vigorously in each one. Halura’s safe was embedded in on of the alabaster columns that bore the weight of the mostly glass structure. He walked over and keyed in the code, reaching in for his small list of contacts when the door clicked open. One of them was code-named “Green Harrison.” Another was Boz Grabow.

Mulguppy's World
Belnesh Plains

“Yeeeeeeee-haaaaaaa!” hooted Boz, hanging on to his hat with one hand, the shifter with the other, barely bracing the steering wheel with his knees.

His Range Rover bucked like a wild bull over the hilly plains as the early morning sun burned skyward on the western horizon. Boz had been on his one-man safari for weeks, and the shocks on his vehicle were feeling every second of it. About two miles ahead of him was a herd of jumping fiboonas. Something had spooked them, hopefully some predator, but maybe one of those damned falling meteorites, and Boz was gunning the motor to find out. Far down the slope, between Boz and the fiboonas, he saw a gonza tiger bolting toward the herd, and shifted into gear. “Well, I’ll be a—c’mere, you!” The day was shaping up nicely.

Boz reached into the passenger seat for his shotgun as the Rover bounded over a shallow rut. “What the—” He grabbed the weapon but noticed a flashing red light on his communications uplink. “You are killin’ me!” Boz took his foot off the accelerator and watched the tiger make off into the tall grass. He yanked the comm box onto his lap and keyed in his security code.

[Transmission] Merchant, a new ship is in port. There might be something floating in the harbor for you. Best Regards, Trader. [EndTrans]

Boz tossed the box back into the seat and shifted back into gear, his eyes scanning for the tiger. Damned marigolds never quit. Texas Boz Grabow stepped hard on the gas.

Leghk Sector
G'Aeresch
Orbital Ship Docks

The G’Nunk warship Regepple was engaged in furious combat, which was interesting, considering it hadn’t even left the space dock yet. “Fire the starboard maneuvering thrusters! We’ll burn the bastards off the hull!” shouted the invigorated Dozelord of the Regepple. Gannuzo had gotten into a dispute with the harbormaster as Regepple was preparing to leave. One thing quickly led to another and then somebody lost and eye which precipitated a weapon discharge of one sort or another.

“Aft maneuvering thrusters to full,” howled the not-entirely-stable executive officer, Subdozelord Binolio. The Regepple staggered out of its moorings as the charred bodies of the harbormaster’s goons floated away. “Come right,” he continued, shaking his fist, “make for the space gate!” Just then, a cargo shuttle passed to Regepple's stern, a profound error in judgement on the part of its pilot. An enterprising helmsman on Regepple fired a half pulse on the ship's subphotonic engines, cooking the shuttle and earning the compliments of the weapons officer who usually got the kills. By the time Regepple made open space, the dock was a roaring disaster area.

Business as usual, so to speak.

----------
Next: "Type Two"

A battered sign:
Mulguppy's World Population: 104. Established May 7, 4638 at the landing site of the bivouac ship SS Nuuruka 2. Governor: Bill James Mulguppy. Colonial Registry Charter Number: A23-777-fr36 Revoked.

Hilsfar & Company: Go Ahead and Revoke our Permit
[email protected]