Farscape Tracker (1) Prologue “Are you sure?” Traynor asked as he petted the trelkez. “Of course I’ am. I’ll never forget looking into the eyes of that beautiful delvian priestess.” “Priest?” “Yes priest. Of the ninth level pa’u. Beautiful. Simply beautiful, replied the merchant. “What was she looking for?” “Medicine, herbs for a sick hynerian that was on her ship. She and the male sebacean were…” “Sebacean male? I thought there was three?” Traynor said out loud surprised. “Three of what?’ the merchant asked. “Never mind. You were saying something about a sebacean male?” “He fell into Maldis’s trap and brought to his home.” “Maldis?” “Yes an evil sorcerer. We have lived countless cycles under his evil hoping for the day when he would be defeated and he was and we are finally free!” “How was he defeated?” “No doubt that the delvian priest played a part, but when the other sebacean arrived, no one knew what the real story was. You know how rumors start.” “Wait. Another sebacean? Are you making this up?” “No I am not. A female. Very beautiful from what I can gather.” Traynor grew concerned. “Go on.” “After she arrived not much happened. The priest purchased the herbs then I assume that the three of them left for their ship. A luxan may have been with them I am not sure. “Did any of them mention where they were heading or give you any clues as to what they were going to do next?” “None that I am aware of. We are small commerce planet and word spreads quickly around here. And besides the less we know about our visitors the better off we are.” Traynor knew that the trail just grew cold. Talking to the other merchants or people on this planet would be a waste of time. The more time he spent on this planet the further Moya would get away from him. “They are for sale you know.” “What?” “The trelkez.’ Traynor looked at them realizing that he had been petting them all along. He grew repulsed at the thought of what may happen to them and he was disgusted with himself. He took out some money and paid the merchant for the information that he provided. “Here,” said Traynor handing him some more money. The merchant looked surprised. “Make sure no one buys them. Keep them here and take care of them. I’ll be back to check up on them.” “GLADLY!” the merchant said looking at the money that was in the palm of his hand the quickly looking up to catch a glimpse of Traynor as he left his store. “Not again,” Traynor said looking t the console where the ship’s power levels were displayed. He had been monitoring the power levels ever since the ship got caught in an Ion storm a couple of solar days ago. The power levels had been fluctuating all throughout the ship until he managed to repair the criptson power unit by bypassing it through the hoxia relay then patching it into the main power grid. He knew that his was only a temporary fix and that the unit would have to be replaced but he was deep inside the Uncharted Territories and he needed to make a decision. It had taken Traynor nearly a cycle to get this far, tracking Moya by gathering bits and pieces of information from some of his paid informants and from other bounty hunters who had seen the wanted beacons scattered throughout the galaxy. He was always one step ahead of the other hunters who have attempted to collect on the bounty and this gave him some satisfaction. Based on what U’ave didn’t tell him, Traynor knew that the leviathan was more than likely a peacekeeper prison transport that may have been part of a command carrier convoy that had some how managed to remove it’s control collar and escaped. He knew that High Command would want the leviathan back, capturing a leviathan as well as getting a pilot for it was a long and arduous process not to mention a very expensive one. But he could not understand why High Command would place a bounty on the prisoners and not be concerned with finding and recapturing the leviathan prison ship. Peacekeeper standard operational procedures dictated that, “…any and all threats to Peacekeeper infrastructure and or to High Command as well as those threats perceived made to The Council, must be dealt with in a swift and appropriate manner…” Which means sending in a Retrieval Squad after the leviathan to eliminate the threat. High Command would also deploy a squad of Black Ghosts, unbeknownst to the Retrieval Squad, to ensure that the mission be completed and not fail. If the Retrieval Squad fails or encountered any difficulties, then Black Ghosts are ordered to assume command, neutralize the threat, and eliminate any reaming member of the Retrieval Squad and collecting their IDENT chips. High Command does not tolerate failure in general, but when it comes to dealing with perceived threats to The Council, executions are carried out immediately removing any weakness that may have been exposed by the Retrieval Squad’s failure to complete the mission. Traynor knew this first hand. The information that he had showed no evidence of a Retrieval Squad or Black Ghosts ever being deployed. Something wasn’t right. Something was missing. If his assumptions were correct, then High Command had an alternate motive, but there was only one way that he could be sure. Traynor would have to look at the wanted beacons. The console went off again indicating another power drop. “Wonderful,” Traynor said once again drawing his attention to the console and the display, which showed that the power level had dropped another nine lergs. Another alarm went off this time indicating that the pressure seals in the cargo bay were loosing power, which meant that the cargo bay doors would soon blow open. He pressed some buttons on the console and the alarm shut off. He pressed some more buttons and switches and looked at the display and saw that the power levels were not stable and the seals in the cargo bay were holding. He flexed his left hand and turned and walked over to where the star charts were. He pulled two charts out and walked backed to the console and laid them out. He looked at both of them intensely. One chart was one that he was working on since he entered the Uncharted Territories in pursuit of Moya, the other an incomplete chart from the last time he was here. It wasn’t very a very detailed map, just some coordinates to some planets and systems that would make no sense to any other person other than to him. He knew that the Uncharted Territories were so vast that charting it would be an impossible feat. What he had in front of him was better than having nothing at all. He looked at the console to locate his current location and vector and then looked at the older chart, then at the other. He realized by looking at the older chart that this was the farthest that he had ever been to inside of the Uncharted Territories. “There…” he said out loud placing a finger on the older chart next to a set of coordinates. Based on his current vector this was the closest planet that would have any facilities that could repair his ship. He hesitated to input the coordinates into the ship’s computers. “Frell…” he stated in frustration. He hated to break off his pursuit of Moya. But there were no other options for him. Without repairing the ship there was no way that he could track her. The trail has had grown cold for a while and he was no closer to tracking her now than he was before the storm hit. Hopefully while his ship was being repaired he would be able to pick up some new leads by talking to some of the planet’s inhabitants. With some new information and a little bit of luck he would soon be back on her trail. He entered the coordinates into the ship’s computers and waited for the computer to accept them. He walked away from the console and put the star charts away. The computer blurted out a sound that signaled that it had accepted the coordinates and mapped out a vector towards the planet. The ship turned and adjusted its vector. He continued flexing his hand growing annoyed at the pain that was increasing. Traynor made his way below to the weapons bin to put on his body armor, grabbed his pulse pistols and to look for his sand goggles. Another solar flair was about to form and Traynor doubled checked to see that the ship’s defense screen was up. The proximity alarm went off indicating that the flare was approaching the ship and he turned his head and closed his eyes and waited until it was over. Once it passed he opened his eyes and squinted as he looked out the cockpit window. Slowly his eyes began to focus and the planet emerged. Looking at it, he could tell that nothing much on the planet had changed, in fact it had gotten worse. He could see more storms covering the planet and that the population had grown larger living in a concentrated area where the storms were less likely to hit. This coupled with the intense solar flares made it a planet that most prudent people would want to avoid. For many it was an outpost where they could hide in safety and obscurity. Traynor decided to land the ship just on the outskirts of the depot not wanting anyone to know that he had arrived, it was a big universe but you never know who you may run into. Plus the fact that he didn’t want any hingemots around his ship looking for something to steal. He did not have the time or the patience to deal with them. The ship entered the atmosphere and shook violently as it fought against severe gusts of winds that surrounded her. Traynor looked at the console looking at the power levels hoping that they would not drop any further ignoring the vibrations and movement of the ship. The proximity alarms went off again he closed his eyes and waited for the flare to pass. The ship stopped shaking and he opened his eyes and saw sand dunes appearing over the horizon and the depot several metras behind them. It was a perfect spot to land. The ship hovered over the sand dune briefly blowing sand in all different directions at times more violently than a sand storm. Tryanor wanted to make a hole deep enough in the sand for the ship to remain hidden from view in all directions. When he was satisfied, he lowered SAT and she gently sunk into the ground. He shut the engines off and made his way back to the landing ramp, checked his armor, drew one of his pulse pistols and put on his sand goggles. The landing ramp opened up and another solar flair hit. Even with the goggles on he had to practically shut his eyes when it hit him. The ramp fully retracts and hits the sand softly at exactly the same moment that the flair passes and he begins to walk down to the base of the ramp to get his first good view of the immediate surroundings. After a short pause to look at around, he begins to climb to the top of the dune to see what lay on the other side. As the top of the dune nears, Traynor drops to his stomach and craws on his belly the rest of the way. When he reaches the top, he sees nothing but the outskirts of the depot and a storm that was forming directly behind it. He could begin the wind to pick and saw the gains of sand on other dunes that where around him move like ripples in water. “For the love of cholok!” he cried out loud as he turned over on his back and reached for his boot, took it off and turned it over so that the sand that had gotten into it could fall out. Traynor could deal with just about anything; full frontal assaults, assignations, the klendian flu, and dramallas, everything, except having sand in his boots. It was something that just irritated him. As the last grains of sand fell out of the boot, he felt the wind pick up even further and he knew that the storm had picked up in intensity and that it was moving towards him and the depot at an accelerated pace. “Wonderful,” he said as he put the boot back on and quickly went down the dune and made his way back up the landing ramp. Back inside, he headed for the section of the ship that the criptson power cell was located and removed it and placed it inside of a backpack that he picked that was nearby. By removing the power cell, life support and some other primary functions of the ship were disabled, which he would not be using while the ship was be repaired, but he made sure that the engines, defense screen, motion sensors as well as his weapons remained online. The ship shook and he nearly lost his balance. The storm was getting closer. He was worried about the storm as well as the ship being buried in the sand once it hit. He quickly made his way to the cargo bay. In the bay he reaches for a small handheld device that he would use to turn the ship’s engines on remotely, should the ship become buried in the sand, and enable him to fly the ship from the ground for a short distance. He also flipped on a switch that activated a homing beacon for the ship that he would be able to lock onto if he looses his bearings, and grabs a backpack and places the power cell into it and heads back to the ramp and without looking back he turns the device on which retracted the ramp and turned on the motion sensors that were sensitive to heat, and saw the gun turrets move into a defensive positions. Traynor then climbed back up the sand dune and headed towards the direction of the depot. He wasn’t walking more than 30 microts when, “ FRELL!” he shouted as he felt sand in his boot again. Once on top of the dune he slid down the other side not stopping to get the sand out knowing that the storm was approaching. He continued fighting the wind and tried to cover his mouth as the sand kicked up around him as he tried to get to the Dam-Ba-Da depot. “No! No! No!” Furlow cried out loud, “Have you even looked at the glarian frost point?” “Um, no. I just thought that…” “You always have to look at the frost point before you attach the ompdek power drive on these types of ships. If you don’t check it then it then it will stick so when they try to power up it will overload and shut down.” Her assistant just stood there with his mouth opened shocked that he could have caused the ship to explode. “Nice huh?” Furlow said out loud and the assistant nodded. “If you can’t remember things then write it down, that’s my motto.” Her assistant, embarrassed, looked away and went on to correct his error. Business has been very brisk at the depot since the ion storm hit all the near by systems a couple of solar days ago. Bounty hunters, smugglers, commerce traders, and all sorts that had encountered the storm were all coming to the depot with damaged ships that needed repair and plenty of money to pay for it. If it weren’t for the storm the depot would be just another planet that had all travelers would rather avoid. If it’s broken, then charge a frelling huge amount of money to fix it that was her motto. She normally liked to work alone but because of the volume of work she had to take on a couple of assistants to get the work done. She hated having to share in her good fortune but she kept reminding herself that this was only temporary and she needed all the money that she could get her hands on so she could finish her special project and get off this barren planet. The biggest deal of her life was just within arms reach and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way. A loud popping noise went off followed by a hissing sound. Furlow took a quick whiff of the air around her and she quickly knew what it was. Adraxan vapor. “STOP!” she yelled at the bumbling assistant whom she was just speaking before and ran as fast as her pudgy little legs would allow her. Her assistant stopped what he was doing and froze. “Don’t..” trying to catch her breath, “…you know what you just did?” she screamed out loud. He just stood there looking at her. She grabbed the hose that he disconnected while trying to fix his original mistake. She reconnected the hose and the vapor stopped leaking. “Are you a total fahrbot?” “I was just trying to…” “That vapor is extremely flammable. Anything can set it off. Anything.” “I’m sorry. I am not familiar with this type of ship and…” “Just stop what you’re doing and go help Nion he’s pretty backed up. I’ll take care of this before you blow us all up.” He turned and walked away. Furlow sighed and she began to fix his mess. “Furlow?” Reina another assistant she took on vied for her attention. “WHAT?” “There are some people who would like to discuss the possibility of increasing your fee if you could repair their ship by tomorrow.” Furlow’s eyes lit up. “Customers always come first. Lead the way,” she replied all too happy to follow her knowing that she would be able to charge more than her standard fee. The twin doors to the depot began to come alive as the sounds of the huge hydraulics came on moving the doors apart. Traynor felt the wind push him up against the doors as the sand attacked him from all directions, he managed to look up and saw that the gun turrets were manned and their occupants were well protected from the storm. When the doors had opened just enough for him to get through, he squeezed himself through them with the aid of the wind. The last gust knocked him off balance and landed face first when he entered the depot. The doors closed just as another flair was about to hit and he caught glimpse of it as he got up from the floor and took off his goggles and began to spit out sand from his mouth. He ran his fingers through his hair and he could feel the grains of sand caught in between his fingers. He shook his head furiously as he tried to get the sand out of his hair but the more he tired the less came free. Sand in his mouth, hair wherever, but not his boots. He should have taken off his boots instead of trying to get the sand out of his hair. Now they would have to wait until later. He walks over to some stairs that lead to a maze of catwalks, and if he remembers correctly which one to pick, it would take him to Furlow. He finally reaches the top of the stairs and sees that the catwalk are filled with people, more than usual, that were heading to all areas of the depot, the med bay, other going to the trade trading and commerce section and some heading towards the whore section. He takes the catwalk to his left which leads to another set of stairs that this time went down which in turn lead to another catwalk that branched off into two directions. It had been awhile since he was here but it was all coming back to him. When he reaches the intersection of the catwalk he turns left now remembering that he was headed in the right direction. Traynor reaches the end of the maze and he looks over his right and he can see Fulow’s place, busier than he expects and with more people all standing around waiting to speak to her. He climbs down the stairs and sees some people arguing about money and sees her and notices that she had gotten a little bit more fatter, and filthier. Frell, if he was stuck on this planet he would have to let himself go too. As he walks over to her he can hear the dren that she was telling her customers who had no idea of what she was talking about so they agreed with her since she was the only person that would be able to help. “…And the frangle is fired not to mention the greez is leaking coolant. Looks like you have a huge mess on your hands.” “Can you get the parts to fix the ship? We have cargo that must be delivered to Retnol 6 in three days!” one of the men shouted out in desperation. When he mentions the words important cargo her eyed open wide. Maybe what was inside the cargo bay would be worth more than fixing the ship. As a courtesy she would have to inspect the cargo to be sure that it would not interfere with her ability to fix the ship, but did not want to alarm her customer should she have to remove the cargo for the safety of the ship. No need to tell them. “I can fix it and I do have the parts but to make your ship a priority it’s going to cost you ….a whole lot.” “Not an issue the man replied, “Just get it done.” “I’ll need a small deposit not that I don’t trust you…” “Here. Take this. Just inform us when the repair work is completed.” “Not a problem,” she said smiling, “The ship will be ready tomorrow.” The man thanked her and he and his party left. Furlow knew that the repairs would only take 5 arms, but she needed time to see what was inside the bay and if it were something that could fetch her price, she would take it. Traynor smiled as he approached her, her backed turned to him, “I’m sure that finding a frangle on this hole is going to be hard.” She quickly turned around and remembered that voice that was all too familiar to her, she faced him her face covered in oil and dirt. “Well, well, well. Who made you an expert in fixing colosian transports? Its been a while Dekksin. What brings you out this far? Looking for repairs? Or did you come out to try to get your hands on this!!” she said as she rubbed oily hands all over her pudgy body. He laughs, “Furlow, I couldn’t afford you.” “Good. Its nice to know that some people still see good value and that too much of this is a good thing!” she replied letting out a laugh. “ Guess its repairs then. Ship hit the ion storm that passed by here a couple of days ago?” “Just like everyone else that’s here, except that I don’t need a frangle. I need something a little bit more substantial.” “Like what?” “A criptson power cell,” he said taking out the unit from his backpack and handing it over to Furlow. The unit was covered in sand, “Sorry about the sand.” “Frell. You really fried this thing didn’t you? And it looks like you tried to bypass it. Pretty nice work Dekksin…for an amateur.” “Thanks,” he replied ignoring her comment and her obvious attempt to flirt with him, “Can you do something with it? I need a new one fast. “I don’t think I have a new one. Those things are hard to come by for a ship that old. Still don’t know why you’d still want a Sperian transport. I’d still be willing to take her off your hands…for the same price that I offered you the last time.” “ You made your offer over 5 cycles ago, and the answer is still no.” “That I did, that you said. Lets see what we can do here follow me.” She started to walk over to a portion of the depot that was nearly deserted if it wasn’t for a collection of ships and broken parts that were scattered about. This was where she kept all of her valuable material since she took out a device that deactivated a defense screen that they both walked through and when they passed it came on again. “You can look but don’t touch,” she said as she broke into a slight sweat from the short walk. Traynor continued to follow her but turned his head and shifted his eyes to the parts and ships that were around. He saw a partially destroyed Nebari cruiser, parts to a prowler along side a section of the cockpit, a raptor and other ships from all systems that had stopped here voluntarily or not. Seeing the prowler parts made him uneasy but not overly concerned knowing that peacekeepers would never venture out this far or in small numbers when they were about to usurp a system. “Its over here. I knew I had one somewhere!” Furlow gleefully shouted out. But he ignored what she said and was looking intensely on a ship of a configuration that he had never seen before. It was partially covered up but he could still make out the ship’s form. It looked like a target drone that he practiced on back when he was training as a peacekeeper. It was ugly but looked very agile and swift. But he knew that it wasn’t a drone. Seeing the prowler parts here he immediately assumed that the ship was part of a training mission that the prowler was on and that High Command was conducting military exercises preparing for an invasion of the system. Judging the fact that he was dealing with Furlow he assumed that she swindled someone out of this piece of junk or stole it. She kept on talking to him but he wasn’t paying any attention. He walked over to the ship and removed the trap just a little so that he good gets a better look. As he lifted it up, he saw strange markings and tried to read them tracing the markings with his fingers. He tried to sound out the words in his head this was a language that was alien to him, Aieya asss sa was what he sound out in his head but did not even come close to what it actually read; IASA. He lifted the tarp further and looked at a hentch drive that was installed onto the ship knowing immediately that it was not part of the ship’s original design. He looked through the cockpit and saw that the controls had been modified and he continued to walk around the ship where he encountered more markings that were in front of the ship below the cockpit which was even more difficult for him to sound out; FARSCAPE ONE. “Finally!” Furlow shouted as she found the spare unit at the bottom of a scrap heap. “Not exactly working at full capacity but it’ll have to do. I can take out the parts that I need from the burned power cell and work with what I have and I can even add some electromagnetic and thermal insulation. It’ll be better than the old one! What do you think Dekksin? Am I good or…” She turned around and looked at him, “WHAT THE FRELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” “Where did you find this peacekeeper target drone?” “What are you talking about? That’s not a drone, besides I don’t deal with stolen peacekeeper equipment.” Traynor looked back at the prowler and looked backed at her. “Fair enough, ok so sometimes I may come across some stuff but I get’ em fair and no one can say different. A gal has to make a living ya know. But just so you know Dekksin, this isn’t anything that they can come up with.” “I’ve never seen a ship of this design or these markings before. Where did you steal it from?” “Steal? Me? Never! It was a fair trade that me and my favorite flyboy make.” “This flyboy, he willingly gave you his ship?” “Well, not exactly. But a deal is a deal,” she replied as she covered the ship back with the tarp. “Now about your little problem, like I said I can take whatever parts that aren’t burned out and out them into the new unit with some modifications and you’ll never have to worry about it for at least 5 cycles. Wadaya think?” she said proudly. “How much?”
Copyright © 2002 Rick Mantilla |