The spaceport bar on Gorky was a rather dirty place. All of the tables and chairs were nailed to the floor, in a vain attempt to keep them from being hurled during the frequent brawls between renegades. It smelled of vomit and burnt hair, and the bar was filled with the smoke of cheap cigars -- a smell that Special Agent Octavian Augustus hated.

Octavian had been under deep cover for about six months. His mission: using the alias Erik Williamson, he had to infiltrate renegade bases, both known and unknown, and learn about planned raids on United Earth worlds. It was a dangerous mission, but only if he was caught. Which won�t happen, he constantly reassured himself.

Before joining the U.E.I.A. [United Earth Intelligence Agency], Octavian had worked as a mercenary. His rough appearance enabled him to fit in rather well with the renegade gangs that he was around. He stood about six feet tall, and his head was entirely shaved -- it had been like that since he was a teenager. His left eye was entirely black, with no iris or pupil that could be seen. This was perfectly normal with prosthetics, but it gave the intelligence agent an appearance that could only be described as inhuman. Despite his appearance, Octavian was much more than a brute, he was very intelligent. This was another good quality that helped him survive on missions such as this one.

He sat in the back of the Gorky spaceport bar, casually sipping a synthetic ale, but being as nervous as a kitten on the inside. He put his drink down on the table and placed his hand on his blaze pistol. Only three energy cartridges, he noted. If he set the pistol to kill, he would get off about forty shots with that much ammunition. He took another sip of his beer, and watched the door -- his renegade contact would arrive at any moment.

Octavian heard the soft �whoosh� that let him know the door was opening. Through the door walked �Hammer,� a notorious space pirate. The name Hammer came from a fight long ago, where the renegade killed the captain of the vessel he was serving on and took it as his own. He did not kill the captain with any type of weapon, however. He killed him with his bare hands, which pounded upon the captain�s face like a hammer.

Hammer�s appearance was much different than the man described in that story, which had become common lore among the other renegades. He had grown rather pudgy, and seemed an easy target. Everyone knew better, though. Over the years, Hammer had grown more and more powerful. His renegade fleet was large enough that he might have been able to take on the Captains of Freeport and win.

The gruff renegade made his way over to Octavian�s table and had a seat.

�You�re late,� noted the intelligence agent.

�I�m terribly sorry, Erik, my boy,� he replied. �I have been --,� he paused to choose his words carefully, �busy,� he finished, deciding that this was all that he needed to tell the man.

�I see,� said Octavian, pointing at a blood stain on Hammer�s shirt.

The renegade opened his mouth to speak, but Octavian waved him silent. He knew that the story would be rather long, and, in the end, it would not help him in the least.

�That doesn�t matter,� the intelligence agent explained. �Why have you called me here?�

Hammer lit up a cigar and deliberately blew the smoke into Octavian�s face. Octavian put his hand on the blaze pistol again. One shot, he thought. But he knew that, if he killed the man, he, too, would be dead. Renegades always got their revenge. And a man like this had enough friends that Octavian would get ten-times the revenge.

�My, my,� he said, �you are quite a stickler for efficiency.�

�I, too, am rather busy,� remarked Octavian.

�If I am taking up too much of your valuable time...� began Hammer.

�No, no,� said the intelligence agent. �Please continue... at your own pace.�

He took another few puffs of his cigar before saying anything. Hammer knew much about Erik -- he was rather intelligent, and he was also very impatient. He enjoyed toying with him, because he knew that Williamson, a much larger (and younger) man, would not dare lay a hand on him. �Have you ever heard of Outpost Omega?� asked the renegade.

Octavian�s face went blank. He had not expected this. The intelligence agent learned of the outpost from his days as a mercenary during the Voinian War. �No,� he lied, as best he could. He could tell that, for an instant, his expression was shocked. He hoped that Hammer hadn�t noticed. �What is it?� he asked, already knowing the answer.

�A secret frontier outpost,� replied the renegade, �hidden inside the Proxima Nebula. I know what you�re thinking,� said Hammer, �how can it be hidden inside the nebula, if we can�t penetrate anything more than the outer edges?�

No, I�m thinking, �How the hell did the renegades find out about this?�

�The nebula hides the jump points from the ship�s astronavigation computer,� explained Hammer. �The ship�s scanners are unable to detect them unless they know what to look for. And I do, Erik. We found a hypertrail leading into the nebula, and the astronav computer was able to lock on to a jump point.

�The Captains of Freeport sent several scoutships in to investigate, but only one ship returned. A scoutship sent by the Nadir made it back.�

The Nadir? He�s even more powerful than Hammer! thought Octavian. Keep calm, he told himself. This guy can smell fear. �So what�s your plan?� he asked. �A raid?�

Hammer nodded. �The Nadir and his fleet are combining with the Captains of Freeport and a few mercenaries. There�s all kinds of stuff to loot -- nuclear weapons, ship designs... You name it, they�ll have it. Hell, you imagine it, and they�ll probably have it. Within weeks, we�ll be ready to take on the entire United Earth Space Navy -- maybe even the Voinians.�

Octavian made his decision. U.E. Intelligence wouldn�t like him knowing all this -- he would most likely be killed. He wouldn�t contact them -- he would contact an old friend...