Sometimes you only know they're chasing you, sometimes you can see them
02 May 2016Kaloonzu
Less than an ESH after receiving my pay for service to Prime Minister Mahon, I had loaded up the Pherralabour with enough beryllium to window an entire outpost's worth of buildings and headed out on a short hop trade route. In that hour, the universe let it be known that it was going to be one of those days where every living Terran with an armed raider was going to be after me.Upon arriving in Tau Bootis, I pointed my nose for Pascal Orbital to sell my hold of beryllium, and pick up some marine equipment for some friends back on Azeban.
Or, at least I tried to. I hadn't thought that a heavily armed Python, with shields and HRPs clearly detectable to even the most basic scanners, would draw the attention of pirates. But it had, and I had no wish to try breaking the interdiction, given that the latest galaxy-wide software patch for nearly every FSD navicomp had truly screwed the pooch on the automatic calculations done to conduct evasion. Submitting, I quickly learned that it wasn't some ragged band of pirates; these guys and gals were flying two Vipers, escorting an Anaconda.
I was in no mood for a fight, as I was already close to being behind on my timetable (running animal meat to a survey station after losing a bet tacked 20 minutes onto what should have been a 50 minute sprint). Standard evasion: zoom past the Anaconda, and be 1200 meters away before it had even gotten halfway about. The Vipers were not so sluggish, but their multicannons couldn't break my shields. I let the FSD take me back into FTL flight, and turn a handsome profit on those minerals.
But then a flash comes across my communications blister: "Abort marine equipment purchase, report to Azeban City ASAP - MAIA". Shit. Guess I wouldn't get to test ride Sophie. She had become turned legal age(by Azeban legal standards, at least), and her guardian still had four months left on a two month tour of duty with a merc group in the Pleiades, escorting scientists and transports in the effort to stop the tech plague. Hopefully whatever this emergency was wouldn't kill me, or keep me away so long that she decides to hop into some deckhand's bunk before I get back.
Arriving back in Eranin, I could breathe easy. EPP and an industrial group had apparently kicked off another war with each other, and they'd be too busy with each other to worry about a TCF warship reentering the system. Not that they could really do much if they'd wanted to. I parked the Python for what I thought would be a short briefing, but docking control told me to put her in LIFLIP mode. Double shit. Low Intention Fuel, Low Intention Power means they expect me to be transferring flight authorization to another ship. And since I haven't been advised to head for a low-tonnage pad, that means they're expecting me to fly the Bruckley out. Only one logical conclusion: MAIA wants something smuggled. And true to form, MAIA can't keep a smuggling job a secret from the dock personnel.
I'm kept in a holding pattern for less time than I'd thought. I have time to grab a bite and send a holocom to Soph, telling her to be patient, with the usual "no, you can't tag along, any route that takes me into Imperial space could result in us both becoming slaves" (she was liberated when she was 11). As I waited to confirm receipt of message, I heard the dock klaxons sound off for a ship being brought up from the Pound, and got to lay eyes on my Asp for the first time in weeks. I knew I was headed for Sothis, and I had never run anything from that system before, nor dealt with their authorities. Hopefully, they were friendly to smugglers.
Fat chance.