Irregular
07 Jan 2017Tuts
*** Cigui System, Clark City (orbital), Medical Section, StarDate 12.27.3303 ***In a Sentence: I've been discharged from the medical unit, and had a frustrating conversation with a Pilots Federation representative.
I slowly pull on the generic, olive drab dungarees that the medical staff gave me. They're worn at the knees and elbows, stiff and scratchy on my newborn-soft skin, but I'm grateful to have them. I mentally thank the station worker who probably donated them for folks in situations like mine. I pause for a moment to make a 25,000 credit donation to the People's Cigui Alliance, the faction that runs the station here.
As I'm fastening the elastic belt of my new Best Outfit, I hear a knock on the door panel behind me. I turn, expecting one last visit from a medtech ... and instead am confronted by a tall, spare gentleman in spacer gray. Physically in his fifties, reluctantly receding hairline, a multitude of creases on his deeply browned face. Thin almost to the point of being gaunt. This man had spent a decade or three in the black, no question. Not just some local bureaucrat then.
"Commander Thomas Ulrich Thigpen?" he asks in a dry, raspy voice. Tasted hard vacuum at some point, I wagered.
"That's me. Call sign is Tuts," I reply, sticking out my hand. He takes it, shakes twice with firm, controlled restraint - no stranger to the ancient greeting ritual of old earth. That pegged him as having a fed background. Probably.
The man nods. "Commander Tuts then. I'm Commander Red Hayslip. I'm a rep for the Pilots Federation in this sector. How do you feel, pilot?"
"Medium Rare, mostly." I get a polite chuckle for that one.
"Undoubtedly. I understand you got a little cooked out there," he replies, then pauses a moment. "That's why I'm here now. The particulars of your accident are a little... irregular. I understand you have suffered some memory loss?"
I nod carefully. The word 'irregular' is definitely a caution flag.
"I can fill in some of the blanks for you," he says, pulling out a datapad. "Your last logged location was departing Ashby City, Luyten's Star, on the 27th of January of this year." A quick glance up before he continues. "You high-jumped out, destination unknown. Your ship has not been scanned since that time. At this point it is presumed destroyed and you have been reimbursed for 96% of its estimated credit value. This was done for you several weeks ago, because at the time you were incapacitated and we do not have a next of kin on file for you," he explains. I wondered. Usually the option of a replacement is offered first, but I didn't mind receiving the credits for this one. My old Asp is still in dock waiting for me.
"Two months ago," Cmdr. Red continues, "the imperial clipper Pangaseus was interdicted by a federal patrol looking for smugglers. The pilot was killed in the ensuing exchange, but the ship survived and was then impounded here in Cigui. Among the stolen goods in the hold were several advanced medical stasis capsules. Including yours," he finished, catching my eyes.
"Someone had my escape pod?" I ask.
"No. This was far more advanced tech, designed to keep the occupant in stable condition for months or even longer. And it seems that you had already received significant medical treatment before being placed inside," he responds. Frowning, he continues. "The irregular part is, we don't know who treated you, where the Pangaseus came from OR where she was bound. And unfortunately, the commander deliberately destroyed the ship's flight computer prior to his death from loss of cabin pressure."
"Oh...kay," I reply, trying again to remember what came before waking up in medical. No dice. "What about the other pods?"
"Several galactic citizens, but no other pilots aside from yourself," he replies. "They are therefore not of jurisdictional concern to the Pilots Federation. However, the Galactic Federation's investigation is ongoing. I can tell you that none of the other victims were physically injured, and so far none of them appear to be connected or related to each other - or you - in any way they can determine." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "The Pilots Federation will not tolerate any interference, tampering, or sabotage of a pilot's escape pod. The fact that yours was apparently recovered, opened, and then either hidden or destroyed is of great concern."
I can only nod my agreement with this. Commander Hayslip reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card. "Here's my contact number. If you remember anything that might help us track down the perpetrators, I'd appreciate the intel. Oh, and I took the liberty of having the Pilgrim II flown here from Groombridge 34 for you."
I raise an eyebrow. "You folks do that now?"
"It's a new service, introduced a few months ago. Costs a few credits, depending on the ship type and distance, but this one's on the house. You take care now, Commander Tuts." With a final nod, the Pilots Federation rep turns on his heel and sees himself out.