Logbook entry

Personal Log 142: 26 – 27 November, 3302

13 Mar 2017Jemine Caesar
26 – 27 November, 3302



"Well, my love," said Sam by k-cast the next day. "How did your showdown with Kyla Emmerich go?"

"How in the name of Gaia did you know about that?" I asked, taken aback.

I'd booked myself into a subsidised apartment on Citi Gateway starport, having decided to delay my mission for Bactrimpox Gold Society by one more day in order to get a good night's sleep. I also needed some minor maintenance work done on The Last Thing, so I'd had her taken to the Citi Gateway repair shops before setting off for my rendezvous with Kyla at the entertainment district.

"Male intuition," Sam replied, adding, "coupled with the fact that your spat with her was all over the Pilots Fed social media page. Your literary jousting was highly entertaining, I must say. I feared it might have turned into a cat-fight once the two of you actually met."

I laughed, slightly embarrassed at the thought of our argument having been there for all to read. "I imagine quite a few others might have been hoping for a cat-fight, too," I agreed. "If they were, they'd have been disappointed."

"That's good to know," chuckled Sam. "You're more than capable in a scrap. I doubt that Miss Emmerich would have stood much chance against you."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I replied. "Kyla is quite a capable woman herself. But it all ended happily, I'm glad to say. Kyla and I are friends now. Which reminds me, I must send her a friend request on PFedSocMed."

"PFedSocMed? I've never heard it called that before."

"No," I said. "I've just made it up. Listen, Sam, I have one last little errand to run while I'm out here, and then I'll be on my way to Sol. It won't be long now."

"Again, that's good to know. I've missed you, Jem. We've got a bit of catching up to do, and I can't wait to hear all about your adventures in Pegasi. And to kiss you, of course!"

I stared at the holographic image of Sam's face. My mind was suddenly once more filled with memories of the last few weeks, and I certainly had a lot of stories to tell Sam. But the time was fast approaching when I would have to pluck up the courage to tell him about Matt Lehman. About our meeting in the bar on Smith Dock. About the near-disastrous bounty hunting excursion. About the steak and lobster meal and the sparkling conversation. And about the sex. Especially about the sex.

There had never been any secrets between Sam and me.

So far.

*****

With the repairs to my ship completed, I sat in the cockpit and ran through the pre-flight checklist. Satisfied that everything was in order, I guided The Last Thing through the access corridor and into the void...

And almost smacked straight into a rapidly inbound Cobra III.

"What the fuck?!" I yelled, giving my flightstick a violent twist to roll out of the way of the hurtling vessel, clipping the mailslot superstructure in the process.

"Sorry 'bout that, sweetcheeks," came a familiar voice over my comms. "Was in a bit of a rush."

"Kyla?" I gasped. "Is that you?" A glance at my Contacts panel confirmed that the pilot of the Cobra was indeed Kyla Emmerich.

"Got it in one," came the jaunty response. "No flies on you, huh? Where are you headed?"

"Sekenks," I replied. "There and back again."

"OK, tell you what, just give me time to drop my cargo and I'll come with you. I don't want to hang around here too long, if you know what I mean."

Over the comms channel I heard Kyla's ship's AI announcing 'Thermal Signature Restored'. She'd evidently come in on silent running, which probably meant only one thing...

"Are you smuggling?" I asked.

"Why?" she answered. "You're not gonna tell me what a naughty girl I am, are you? I hope not, 'cuz you know we've been over that shit already."

"You're incorrigible!" I said, laughing.

"Still calling me names, eh? And here's me thinking we were friends!"

I manoeuvred The Last Thing to a holding position about ten kilometres from the starport, then waited. Presently a Cobra III came bursting out of the mailslot and straight towards me.

"Right, honeybun. Where'd you say you were going? Sekenks, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go!"

As Kyla's ship zoomed past my starboard side, a wing invite from her lit up on my HUD. Accepting it, I spun The Last Thing around to line up with the jump vector and then engaged the FSD. Once we were both safely out of Inara I opened the comms channel and hailed Kyla.

"What was the cargo?" I asked.

"O-head," she replied. "The finest money can buy. Except it sort of wasn't. Hence the quick exit. I might be giving Inara a bit of a miss for a while. Anyway, what's this job of yours? Delivering tea?"

"No, not quite. It's a long story."

"The best ones always are. I'm all ears."

I told her all about Elian Theissen's trick with the choker which sent me to Pegasi, and about the work I had done for Black Omega under the late Marty Aston. I outlined the data-fetch mission I had taken on for Elite And Real, and described my plan to renege on the mission by selling the data to Jairo Casals at Bactrimpox Gold Society.

"So," said Kyla when I had finished, "we've got piracy, smuggling, theft, deception and double-crossing. That's quite a list. Now you're doing this little heist to get revenge on that Elian Theissen guy? Well, I guess I was right."

"About what?"

"You, Jemine, are definitely no Goody Two-Shoes. Welcome to the club, my friend!" she said with a chuckle.

*****

A short time later, using the coordinates I had been given by Elite And Real, Kyla and I landed a few hundred metres from the planetary installation which held the data I was hopefully about to steal. Kyla's voice rang out on my comms.

"Right," she said. "Off you go. You do have an SRV in that thing, haven't you?"

"Of course I do!" I retorted. "What do you take me for?"

"Inexperienced."

"Huh! Don't you want to come with me?"

"Nope. I'll stay here and read. Or something. Don't be long, I get bored easy. And when I get bored I get tetchy."

"Oh," I said. "Is that what it is?"

"Cheeky bitch! Just get a move on."

A few minutes later I was sitting in my scarab, trundling across the surface towards the buildings which held my objective.

"I'm on my way, Kyla," I said.

"Atta Girl," came the reply. "Don't forget to take care of the drones first."

I frowned. "Drones? What do you mean, 'drones'?"

Kyla sounded exasperated. "For frak's sake, Jem! Drones! You know? The floating robots? Didn't you see them as we were coming down?"

"No," I said. "I was too busy watching my altimeter. What happens if I don't take care of the drones?"

"Isn't it obvious? The drones are there to guard the place from illegal activities. And, in case you've forgotten, what you're planning to do counts as an illegal activity."

"I hadn't forgotten," I replied, evenly. "So exactly how do I 'take care of the drones'?"

"Oh, you are just a treat!" scoffed Kyla. "You know those things that stick out of your SRV at the front, that look a bit like guns?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why they look like guns?"

"Because they're guns?" I said, biting my lower lip.

"Top marks! They're plasma repeater cannons, to be precise. You have used them before, haven’t you?"

"Well, yes," I answered, slowly. "Once. To shoot some rocks. For practice."

"Rocks! Frakkin' hell!" There was a few moments silence before Kyla spoke again. "OK, Jem, hold your present position. I'll come join you in my scarab, and we can take care of the drones together."

I brought my SRV to a halt and waited for Kyla to arrive alongside me.

"Jem," she said. "Dismiss your ship."

"What?" I asked, puzzled. "Why?"

"Our ships are sitting ducks now. All it takes is for some low-life thug to come swooping in, lasers blazing, and we'll be left with no way off this shithole of a rock."

"I see," I said, looking at the control panels of my SRV. "Dismiss my ship. And how do I do that exactly?"

Kyla guided me through what proved to be a simple procedure. I watched as both our ships majestically rose into the starry backdrop and out of sight. I felt a surge of panic.

"Where are they going?" I asked.

"Into a low-level orbit," Kyla explained. "They'll automatically power down all non-essentials, cutting their heat signature to almost zilch. Means they'll be virtually undetectable until we recall them later. Honestly, Jem, you really ought to read the fucking manual sometime!"

"No need to be rude!"

"I'm not apologising."

After a few minutes we rolled across the perimeter of the installation. This was the cue for three drones to prick up their electronic ears and begin hovering warily.

"OK," said Kyla. "These things aren't too difficult to take out, but they'll fling lead at us as soon as we start firing. Ready?"

I lined up one of the drones in my crosshairs. "Ready."

"GO!"

Kyla's cannons swiftly destroyed one of the drones, immediately bringing the other two roaring into life against us. Plasma bolts streaked in all directions, and my shields registered hit after hit. Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the frantic battle was over. Kyla had taken care of all three drones single-handedly.

"That was impressive," I gasped.

"Well, practice makes perfect. But now’s not the time for you to set up the Kyla Emmerich Appreciation Society. It won't be too long before reinforcements come to see what's happened. If we're still here, we'll be in deep shit."

"Right!" I said, and drove to the datalink tower in the centre of the installation. It was a simple matter to download the data using the access codes from Elite And Real. The whole process took less than a minute.

"All done, Kyla!" I said.

"Good, because we’re about to have company.”

Checking my sensors, I was alarmed to see that a wing of ships had just dropped down several kilometers from where we were.

“Let's get the frak outta here," growled Kyla, urgently. "I want to put a few kilometres between us and this dump before we recall the ships. Hopefully we will be long gone before they pick up our trail.”

We sped out of the installation and into open ground. Soon we were careering across the surface at breakneck speed, and I had a hard job keeping up with Kyla's scarab. Presently, though, we began slowing down to a more sedate pace.

"Kerching!" said Kyla. "Looks like I'll get something out of this trip after all!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"Cargo canisters, dead ahead. May be abandoned salvage, or perhaps a crash site. Either way, it's easy credits."

I followed Kyla to a spot some way ahead. There we found the wreckage of what looked like a Cobra III, surrounded by a haphazard litter of cargo canisters.

"This gets better and better," enthused Kyla. "We've got ourselves some personal weapons and landmines. This guy must have been on his way to a warzone. Poor sap."

I scanned the canisters, sixteen in all, confirming what Kyla already knew.

"Recall your ship, Jem,” she told me. “We've got some work to do."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" I asked, looking dubiously at the waiting cargo strewn across the dusty surface.

Kyla tutted. "Don't you go all Goody Two-Shoes on me again! We're smugglers, remember? This is what we do. Besides, if we don't pick this stuff up then someone else with more sinister intentions will. So it may as well be us! And since I'm feeling generous today, we'll make it a fifty-fifty split."

I tapped the menu command to recall The Last Thing, and was glad to see her descend to a graceful landing not fifty metres from the crash site. Kyla's Cobra followed within mere seconds, after which began the tedious task of scooping the canisters and loading them into our ships one by one. When the last canister had been safely stowed, we each moved our scarabs into boarding position beneath our ships.

"OK," said Kyla. "This is where we part company again."

"Aren't you coming back to Inara to sell this stuff?" I asked.

"Nope. I need to stay away from that place for a while, remember? In any case, I happen to know a guy who knows a guy who's in the market for what I've just picked up."

"Can't I come with you, then?"

"Uhh... best not. Because reasons. Besides, you'd better get yourself back to Casals with that data you stole. Elite And Real aren't going to be too chuffed with you for crossing them."

"No," I agreed. "All right. Thank you for all your help. I owe you a drink."

"Damn skippy. Fly safe, Jemine Caesar"

I watched the Cobra rise effortlessly from the surface, to become a rapidly shrinking dot amidst thousands of others.

"Take care out there, Kyla Emmerich," I whispered.

*****

"Senorita Caesar," breathed Jairo Casals, blowing out cigar smoke at the same time. "Welcome back to Coney Enterprise. ."

I looked around the mess that was Casals' pokey little office, wrinkling my nose at the stench from his cigar. "That's commander Caesar, if you please. May we get down to business?"

Casals grinned. "Si, por supuesto! You have it with you?"

I shook my head. "That would be silly of me, would it not? No, the data is in an encoded file on a public access terminal. The password will be released to you on payment of my fee. Sixty-six thousand credits, as we agreed."

"Bueno, sen— commander," Casals said, his smile thinning. "A wise precaution. I had intended to pay you only half. But how do I know that the data is of any use to Bactrimpox Gold Society?"

I flashed him a conspiratorial smile. "You tell me, would details of covert operations planned by Bactrimpox Industries be considered useful?"

"It would. If that is indeed what the data contains."

I took my dataslate from my handbag and tapped the screen. "Here," I said, showing Casals the display, "is a representative sample of what I brought back. Names, dates, and more. It's all there. Considerably better than a grocery list, don't you think?"

Scrutinising the screen's contents, Casals' broad grin returned. "Much better. Gracias, commander Caesar," he said. "A pleasure doing business with you. I will see to it that the payment is made."

I left Casals' office considerably happier than I had been after my first visit. On top of the deal I had just concluded with him, I'd also managed to sell my illicit weapons and landmines for a healthy sum on the black market at Barreiros Vision, a planetary outpost controlled by Elite And Real. It was really just too bad for them that their system influence would take a negative hit as a consequence.

Shit happens.


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OOC

This is a sequel to the RP spat described in my previous two logs. Thank you to Kyla Emmerich for her valuable input, not to mention her ingame advice on how to carry out datalink missions. Also a sincere thank you to Simon Datura for the inspiration behind certain pieces of dialogue.
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