Logbook entry

Questions

29 Nov 2017MMMMMalcolm
HIP 118321

27 NOV 3303




Well my benefactors don’t have to worry about me making rank fast in the Imperial Royal Navy. I’ve been in HIP 118321 a week, and completed dozens of missions, yet these cynical tightwads still haven’t elevated my reputation among the factions above cordial. I suppose that’s life in a royal government. Your Highness is so precious they couldn’t possibly do anything themselves. But they are so aware of how they came to power, they are skeptical of everyone. Afraid the dagger they placed in their rivals back will somehow end up in their own.

I was walking back from the Herzog Gateway missions’ office, complaining about the lack of trust and subsequent lack of reward offered for missions, when I saw her again. Kay was standing outside of my Warm Embrace’s cargo hold. She stood for a moment, using the ship’s comms in a vain attempt to contact Commander Malcolm Xavier and gain entry. A nearby dock worker informed her he saw the commander leave the ship an hour ago. She thanked him, hesitated, and then walked away. I could tell she was frustrated, but her defiant spirit and elegant stride cloaked her emotions. At that moment, I would have bet anyone any amount of credits that SHE was the rightful Queen of the Empire.

As she faded into the dock’s hustle and bustle, I was so grateful I changed out of my flight suit earlier; with its built in GPS and emergency beacon. From a safe distance, I followed her through the station. I made sure she did not notice me. At the same time, I began berating myself for leaving that letter and kept my own head on a swivel. Despite how I may have felt seeing Kay again, I knew it wasn’t safe for her to be here, especially if she was looking for Malcolm Xavier. My knucklehead attempt at sparing her feelings may have instead jeopardized her life. Thankfully, she did not leave the landing pad area. She just transitioned from the large pads down to the mediums, and made a bee-line to a blacked-out Fer De Lance with “Black Widow” in grey letters painted on the side. I’ll say this, she had style, and I was soaking up every drop of it.

As she lowered the rear ramp, I took one last quick look around. Satisfied no one else was following us, I closed the gap with speed and purpose. In one fluid motion I grabbed her right arm, ushered her up the ramp into her ship, and rammed the button to raise the ramp up behind us. The last thing I saw, as I lay on my back in her darkening cargo hold, was Kay’s beautiful face looking down at me. Her expression was not pleasant. Her left stiletto heel threatened to pierce the center of my chest, while both her hands attempted to separate my left arm from its socket.

“I don’t know who you are,” she growled in the dark, “but you picked the wrong woman for imperial slavery today!”

“Kay wait,” I gasped despite the pain. “It’s me, Malcolm.”

“Malcolm? What were you thinking? I almost killed you!” she breathed, using my arm to help me up, instead of an origami experiment.

“I realize that now,” I said while she moved to turn on the lights. “I won’t sneak…”

When she turned around however; I almost wished I was still on the floor. From somewhere in that form fitting flight suit, a laser pistol had emerged. And the business end was pointing right between my eyes.

“Who are you? How do you know my name? Why did you say you were Malcolm? Talk fast, my patience is slow.”

The calm, cold manner with which she spoke, the steady, confident way she held that pistol; left no doubt in my mind she meant what she said. I raised my hands, showing her my palms.

“I don’t have time to explain, but listen to my voice. I AM Malcolm.”

Her voice softened, but that pistol didn’t budge.

“You sound like him, but you don’t look like him. What kind of trick are you tryin’ to pull?”

“We met a week ago in Sol, on the Abraham Lincoln, in a clothing store. You gave me a hard time about my waist size, then later found out I’m more fit than I let on. This would go a lot better without that pistol.”

She lowered the gun. I lowered my hands and closed my eyes with relief. When I opened them again, the pistol was gone. Nothing left but smooth curves and anger. I made a note to ask her how she did that.

“Look,” I cut her off before she could ask another question. “I know you have a ton of questions, but now is not the time or place to ask them. If I’m seen with you it will be all bad, maybe for both of us.”

She opened her mouth to speak and I pressed on, again stealing her opportunity.

“Just trust in the fact that I don’t want anything to happen to you. I have questions of my own I want you to answer; and you can’t do that hurt or worse.”

“Okay, so how do you suggest we get our answers without you being spotted, and me being hurt or worse?”

I looked around the cargo hold like I had x-ray vision. I then reached in my pocket and fished out a credit chip and an old picture; two things I never went anywhere without. I handed them to Kay.

“There is a restaurant not too far from here that has an alley next to it. Look up the coordinates on your ship’s computer and teleport me into the alley. After that, transport your ship back to Sol. I have a contract to deliver some tourists to Damona tomorrow at 0900. Disguise yourself and board my ship with them. Don’t be late. The ship’s movements are tracked and my electronic communications are recorded, but inside my ship I can do or say what I please. We can talk as soon as the FSD finishes counting down.”

“Teleportation inside a station is illegal…”

“’Except in cases of emergency,’ I know. The credit chip I gave you is my own personal stash. I’ve built it by syphoning off half my employer’s per diem for thirteen years. It’s large and untraceable. It will cover any legal fees you accrue and the transport fee.”

“And the picture?”

“The picture I took the day I got recruited. It’s the only evidence of my true identity and the only collateral I have. I’m asking you to trust me with your life. At least I should trust you with my life, my real life.”

Kay turned and walked out of the cargo bay without a word. Remembering how unpredictable her pistol could be, I thought it wise to just wait until she returned. A moment later I was standing in an alley, next to a restaurant, in the city of Herzog Gateway.
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