Cmdr Kodeyne
Role
Fighter / Adventurer
Registered ship name
Big Bad Wolf
Credit balance
-
Rank
Elite IV
Registered ship ID
Federal Corvette K-666F
Overall assets
-
Squadron
RazorGoat
Allegiance
Independent
Power
Independent

Logbook entry

Hunting the Hunter, Part One

20 Nov 2021Kodeyne
Alison suppressed a shudder of trepidation as Big Bad Wolf slid into the docking bay of Levy Hub, LHS 2310. This was, apparently, Mikael's base of operations - or, to be more precise, where he stored his ships. It seemed unlikely that he would be actually here; but if he was...
Ophelia had been out of sorts ever since that message from him had arrived, becoming quiet and withdrawn, and Alison knew well enough to let her be. But she remained determined to find Mikael, and this station was the obvious place to begin.
It, and the system, were controlled by the rather splendidly named Lucky Rocket Privateers faction. 'Privateer'...they'd had to look that one up. Kind of a mix of mercenary and sanctioned pirate, a term from the days of seafaring on ancient Earth.

Ophelia returned to the ship after making a few enquires at the pilot's bar on the concourse. No, Mikael hadn't been seen there of late; but that was hardly unusual for a starship commander. But she had also determined a few of his other usual haunts on the station. And that required a different approach. Monfort had once said that she would make a good detective. When she had asked him to elaborate, he replied "You'd be surprised - or maybe not - at how much people are willing to tell you, for the price of a drink or two...especially when the person asking is an attractive woman."
She wore a pleated green tartan skirt that stopped just above the knee, black tights sheer enough to hint at the skinprints on her legs and a wine-red silk blouse with hidden slashes down the back for a bit of ventilation but mainly for easy access to her knife. Alison wound Ophelia's hair into a French plait, then stood back and looked at her critically.
"Hmm," she said, "I'm not sure I can let you go out in public looking so delicious, my dear. It wouldn't be fair on all those people whose hearts you'd be breaking..."
Ophelia managed a wan smile, kissed her and headed out, tense with anxiety.

A few drinks had calmed her, and folk were indeed willing to talk.

"Haven't seen him for a while."

"Nah. Not for weeks. "

"Not recently. Nice chap, though, when he did talk. Always kept himself to himself."

"Yeah, especially after that woman turned up. Fine-looking lady, but very possessive. Always stared daggers at anyone who came near. "

"Oh, her? I think she's his fighter pilot."

Finally, late afternoon in a cafe-bar, a middle-aged woman with ash-blond curls, heavy-lidded eyes and full lips, who wore the uniform of a starport traffic controller.
"He came in for a coffee. By himself. Oh, I know him enough to say hi, and exchange a few words. But he seemed...distracted that day. Distant. And he didn't stay long."
"I don't suppose you know what ship he was flying? "
"Actually, odd you should mention it. He put his big old T-10 into storage and scooted out in a Mamba. Hadn't flown it for months."
"Can you remember the name of that ship?"
"Uh...give me a second ...Burning Spectre."
"Thank you. You've been really helpful."
"No problem. Now can I ask you something? "
"Huh? Oh, of course."
The woman gazed at her wistfully. "You're ever so pretty. What are you doing later?"
Ophelia blinked, and laid an apologetic hand on her arm.
"Going back to my ship, and my girlfriend."
The woman let out a heartfelt sigh, then laughed. "Oh blast. Never mind, worth a try."
"Oh, bless you." Ophelia planted a quick kiss on her cheek and said goodbye.

In bed that night, Ophelia lay, staring into the darkness and listening to Ali's breathing. There was something she was missing, a clue she'd overlooked. What the hell was it? Something that had been said, somewhere along the line. Tried to relax and not think too hard about it...

...just as sleep crept towards her, the memory came.
That special night, aboard Mikael's Fer-de-Lance, Danger of Death. As the wine had flowed and they shared their pasts, something he'd said, almost in passing. About when he had chased down his former lover, Anmarie, after she had bombed his Cobra.
"Probably a good job the cops arrived when they did," he had said, "otherwise I might have killed her! "
And she sat up in bed, a shout of "No!" bursting forth, startling Alison awake. Hands clawed into the duvet, tears flowing as Ali wordlessly hugged her.
Now she felt sure that she knew what he had done.
The question was why.
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