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The Djinn cut through the darkness on the edges of the Nittan System, its hull fully blackened and all emissions at a fraction of their average output. The sensor corvette was under stealth, silently tracking the medium freighter Magdalaine as it curved slowly away from the designated shipping lane and towards the expansive debris field that surrounded the solar system, on a mission that was not exactly considered to be above board in most circles where morals still had meaning. The freighter was wanted in several systems for various un-paid fines and a long list of citations, most of which were down to the age and condition of the ship. She had been dropped into Captain Maya Li's lap by the Jes'wan Secretary of Defense. There had been a run of thefts from various breakers and scrap yards all across Jes'wan held systems and a ship matching the Magdalaine's description had been spotted sixteen times in the last two years within the vicinity of the affected yards. At first, it had been written off as just a coincidence, merely a freighter going about its business, but eventually the Magdalaine's appearances became suspect as the freighter's timing became what the Jes'wan authorities were now referring to as impeccable.

Maya reclined in her chair and sipped her green tea, watching the Magdalaine's icon creep closer to the Djinn. What the SecDef and his team had dug up on the Magdalaine and her trade history was impressive. The files she had read on the situation proved just how much the media was holding back on or just how much they did not know about the situation; the MediaNet was saying that small things were going missing; bundles of old cable and crash couches, and the like. The official reports had a whole, long list ranging from wiring all the way up to gun mounts for cruisers and emission control units for ships as big as dreadnoughts. And now, Polstar Breakers, the yard local to this system and now working closely with the Jes'wan Black Navy as they decommissioned some of their smaller ships, had reported missing paperwork and a slight increase in free-lance hauliers visiting them. Closer inspection had found that some small hulls had gone missing from the pile. A squadron of retired H'rathrids had been taken to the yard the previous year to be torn down and recycled, but they had never emerged from the scrap cloud they had been anchored in.

Externally, everything was fine. Internally, Jes'wa was in uproar and was deploying small task forces to hunt down the thieves and take back what was rightfully theirs. Which is where Maya and her small crew came in; Jes'wa did not want to put so many of their warships on the problem. They already had one too many dedicated to the task and the rumour mill was gaining momentum. Jes'wa, so tight-fisted with their security that even a solar flare needed permission to go near their solar harvesters, had been robbed blind by petty thieves. Maya adjusted her tails, fanning them out around her and started absently grooming the black, silky fur as she thought, gaze fixed on the little yellow dot registered to the tacnet as FREI/MAG-01. The chrono was counting down the time until contact. Not long now. A paltry two hours at the speed they were doing currently. Maya briefly toyed with the idea of ordering the sublights to be redlined, which would have them on top of the old freighter within minutes, but she knew she had plenty of time. The Magdalaine was two days out from the debris field and tacking along like she had not been spotted by a passing apex predator.

No, Maya would have the Djinn maintain her current speed and slowly, quietly creep up behind the freighter. After all, if the Magdalaine was one of the ships they were after, then who knew what nasty surprises that old hull was hiding. It was quite possible that her sublights and slipdrive were new, and that there was more than just the standard point-defense system built into the ship. A lot of those citations could be false, bogus reports given a legitimate stamp by way of greasing the right palms to make the ship come off as inocuous and average as possible. It would not be the first time such a thing had been done. Maya had done such things in the past herself, something she was not proud to admit, but at the time it had got the job done.

Another few minutes and we can get a good look at her. She thought, sipping her tea. She watched the minutes tick by, anticipation building in the pit of her stomach.

'Ensign Wraithmoore, once we are within reasonable scanning range of the Magdalaine, get everything you can without alerting her to our presence.' Maya's voice cut across the heavy silence of the bridge like a hot knife.

The arctic fox sitting at sensors looked up, nodded, 'Aye Captain, basic scan will commence in thirty-two seconds.'

Maya brought her sensors screen around and watched as a flood of information scrolled onto the screen. Beside her, Commander Pata made a soft, non-committal noise in the back of his throat. The Panzaarian was studying the new information with rapt attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lieutenant Wilkins start busying himself. She glanced at her comms panel. He looked to be trawling through the MediaNet and the Universal Shipping Database for more on the Magdalaine. Whatever had caught his eye had whipped the parasaur into something of a frenzy, his brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers flew across his keyboards.

'She's overweight.' Pata said matter-of-factly.

'By ten tonnes.' Maya added. 'Tell me someone, how does a three-thousand tonne freighter gain an extra ten tonnes of weight?'

'Her holds would be overloaded.' Ensign Horan said from navigation.

'Or she's got a new toy that she shouldn't have.' Commander Dorn said. The crow scratched his chin thoughtfully, 'Wouldn't be the first time, either.'

Maya nodded in agreement. She knew exactly what he was getting at. If the freighter was not hauling something it should not have been hauling in the first place, then it was most likely a weapon or some other ship system that was not designed with hauliage in mind. She had been there and done that herself; mounting a beam weapon pulled from an Ishinn battlecruiser onto a Lengari frigate had not ended well for her ship or the ones on the receiving end.

It had been fun, though...

She purred in amusement as the memory of watching the Sangaardian dreadnought blossom into a giant fireball replayed unbidden in her mind with crystal clarity. The attack had cost her her ship, but the bounty on the dreadnought and her crew, and knowing that she had pulled the rug out from under the Sangaardian captain's feet more than made up for the loss. She pushed the memory away, notcing she was getting a few odd glances. Now was not the time to reminisce

'Captain? I've a bit more on our target.' Wilkins said, 'She's not what the Jes'wan's say she is. She's a Harten class light freighter, not a Starlet medium and she's still registered to the Trans-System Haulage Company. The Hartens were retired five years ago and put into TSH's reserve fleet. But judging from this, this one should have been scrapped. She's accumulated a dozen health and safety citations in this system alone. There's a grand total of thirty-seven citations, all from this sector, all for structural integrity issues and for her drives being unstable. There's three docking fines, the oldest dating back to seven years ago. Mid-Space, Impart, Sunburst Junction and Pavrobie's Rig all have scrap orders on the Mags. She's not space worthy, Cap. Not by a long shot, especially if Pavrobie wants to stop her from sailing.'

'That's more information on her than we were initially given.' Pata said, sounding a little annoyed.

Maya nodded, wondering about that. 'Far more citations than we were told. I wonder how many are legit and how many are false.' Maya tapped her sensors screen, 'Her ID beacon and hull shape all say Starlet. The Djinn says otherwise. I wonder what her captain's hiding.' She stared ahead at the view screens, ideas and theories clogging her thought processes.

'What're you thinking?' Pata asked curiously. He saw the familiar, thoughtful look on her face which generally meant that she had a few ideas that had suddenly been refined.

'The Mags has been spotted in the direct vicinity of three different breakers yards, all of which reported thefts not long after she left the system...' Her gaze slid back down to her sensors screen. She studied it in intense silence for a few minutes. 'Ten tonnes of extra weight and a re-shaped hull. How long until we can get a cyrtsal clear visual on the ship?'

'Another five minutes, ma'am.' Wraithmoore said.

'In five minutes, get me a full scan. I want to know about her extra weight and which is false; her hull or her ID beacon?' Maya paused, her suspicions making her anxious, 'Ex, it's time to have Major Moro gather a boarding party. I want that ship inspected regardless of whether the Mags has the correct paperwork or not.

Pata bent to his task as Maya went back to watching the Magdalaine on her navigation screen. The freighter was tacking along apparently still oblivious to its tail. So long as the Djinn's ruse was kept up and the corvette's sensors didn't fail, then they would continue to go unnoticed. Unless the Magdalaine had better sensors than she anticipated, then it was quite possible the freighter had already made the warship and was choosing to play dumb and was quite possibly leading them into an ambush of some sort. The more Maya read through the gathered data, the more she became convinced that this was the ship they had been tasked with hunting down. Or at least one of them. Over the last decade, retired military hardware had quietly disappeared from tightly controlled breaker's yards, vanishing from the scrap pile and the dockets. All ships involved in taking scrap, general supplies and crew to the yards were being watched much more closely and were living in fear of being boarded for a surprise inspection by the increased Black Navy patrols.

Maya looked at the bridge view screens and watched thoughtfully as the Magdalaine steadily grew in size on the central screen. Maya's niggling uncertainty was slowly resolving itself into the certainty of being on the right track. The Harten class freighters the Trans-System Haulage Company fielded were perfect for smuggling. She had been aboard one before and knew that they had all sorts of nooks and crannies, big and small and that their cargo holds were bigger than they looked.

They were also designed to haul anything from loose grain to small FTL units of all types. She tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair. The detachable pod the ships used for their holds were a honeycomb of storage units. If the pod didn't need to be detached to offload cargo, then the smaller individual storage units could be removed. They were modular, allowing for a better range of cargo to be hauled with minimal fuss, which raised the profits a crew could make in a single run. In that respect, she figured, the Hartens were more profitable than the new Starlets.

'Captain, we're ready for boarding. I'm taking Chief Shimmervale, Chief Flint, Nurse Faelen and four of my squad. We're standing by for further orders.' Moro's voice cut through Maya's thoughts like a hot knife.

'Copy that, Major Moro.' Maya replied.

'Scan complete.'Wraithmoore announced, 'Captain, her hull is clad in flimsy armour to give her the shape of a Starlet. The Harten's hidden just beneath the surface. But that's not where the extra weight's coming from. The armour's too light. It's a tin composite, the same that's used for food cans. My guess is, the extra weight is all down to that disruptor cannon bolted to her chin.'

Maya read through the new data, frowned and cursed then looked out onto the bridge, at her waiting crew. 'Mister Wilkins, it's time to make ourselves known. Open up a line to the Magdalaine.'

'Line open.'

'Magdalaine, I am Captain Li of the Shadow Stalkers warship, Djinn. Under orders of the Jes'wan Royal Black Navy, you are to heave to and allow us to board for inspection.' There was several seconds of tense silence in which everyone stared hard at their screens, waiting on the Magdalaine's reaction. Maya's brow creased into a frown. 'Are they receiving, Wilkins?'

'Aye, Cap. Their comms signal is holding strong and steady so I see no reason why they haven't received.'

Maya repeated her message thrice, each time waiting for a few minutes between broadcasts for a reply or reaction from the ship and its crew. Not once did the Djinn's powerful systems register an attempt at communication or weakness in the signal strength. Frustration and irritation gnawed at the kitsune. They had been out here months with little to produce for their efforts and it was starting to look like the Magdalaine was ignoring them purposely, continuing its course from the designated shipping lane as they made for the system border.

So, they want to do this the hard way. Her thoughts turned bitter with annoyance. Ignoring the hail and playing dumb was generally the first response in such a situation. Pretend you did not hear the phone ring and hope the other person goes away.

'Captain, they've increased their speed by one cee and are sticking to their current course.' Horan said from navigation. The Ishinn studied his screens intently, his large, black eyes unblinking as he tracked the freighter's course. 'They've just increased their speed by two cees, now, ma'am and have adjusted course by one point three degrees coreward, zero point two degrees negative. Their speed is slowly increasing. They will leave the designated shipping lane within ten minutes.'

'Looks like they might be trying to get away without breaking into a sprint.' Wraithmoore said, watching her own screens with some amusement. 'I can't wait to find out what they're hauling.'

The freighter's stupidity would be laughable if the ordered boarding and inspection wasn't so important. She sifted through her options concerning the freighter, weighing each one against the letter of marque the Jes'wan Secretary of Defence had issued her. She studied her screens, watching as the freighter tried to surreptitiously build up its speed and adjust course for the best possible route out of the system. According to the astrogation charts, there was a viable jump point not far from where they were.

'They're making for that jump point.' She muttered, 'Scan their comms array, just to double check that they're not having genuine trouble. I don't want to be shooting their drive block out from behind them only to find out that they're innocent and the difficulty was on our end.' She finally said.

The Magdalaine was creeping further away, now at just over three quarters sublight. Speed wasn't the issue here. The Djinn could outrace the light freighter with ease. The only ships she knew her corvette couldn't outrace were starfighters, certain cutters and voidrunners. It was the fact that the freighter was running for an un-guarded jump point.

'Scan complete. Their comms array is fine.' The white furred vixen at sensors said after a moment.

May studied her sensors and tactical screens. The freighter's speed had settled into an even, perfectly legal speed of three-quarters sublight. It was enough to safely go to FTL when they hit the jump point, the turbulent patch of space acting like a sling shot for any ship that crossed the threshold. The quick burst of detailed data Ensign Wraithmoore had gathered was true to word. The freighter was receiving loud and clear, it was just choosing to ignore them and slink away.

'Maybe still being under stealth has spooked them?' Pata said quietly.

'Maybe. But I doubt it. I get the distinct feeling the Mags's captain and crew know what they're doing. You don't put a fake hull on a ship and futz the ID beacon for fun. They're guilty of something and I want to know what. Mister Garth, get us on top of them and then de-cloak.' Maya ordered.

'Aye Captain. Increasing speed to three quarters sublight. Twenty-two minutes until intercept.' The serval announced as he fed more power into the sublights.

'Sensors, weapons, be prepared for any retaliation from the Mags. She's going somewhere important and I want to know where that is and who she's meeting.

'Most likely whatever's related to the need for that disruptor cannon and her weight gain.' Pata said softly as he watched the Magdalaine grow in the viewscreens.

Maya gave a slight nod. It was illegal for a freighter of any size to install and operate a disurptor cannon. Even something as average as a missile battery would be illegal in certain systems. For the Magdalaine to be fielding what appeared to be a fully functional and reasonably well-maintained disruptor cannon meant that she meant business and that business quite possibly involved piracy on some scale. They watched the other ship grow on the view screens as they charged after her. It was an ugly little thing, with a thick, straight spine lined with teeth-like clamps and a bristle of stiff antenna running the length of the ship from bow to stern across its back. PDC caps like carbon scored warts dotted the hull of the ship and the disruptor cannon was neatly tucked away beneath the bulbous bridge module at the fore. The thin layer of false armour looked to be peeling away at the corners now they could see it up close, revealing the dark grey hull of the Harten-class beneath. The whole thing looked like scrap and Maya found herself quietly approving of the captain's ingenuity of using such a guise.

He was not the first to do such a thing and he certainly would not be the last, but still, it was a solid sign that he was intent on evading trouble to fill his pockets with shadily earned money and in some, small way, she respected that. Life was hard and you had to do hard things to stay alive for another day.

However, that was no excuse. She was still going to gleefully set Major Moro on the crew and collect her own money by handing the Magdalaine and its contents over to the Nittan system authorities.

The Djinn dropped its stealth the second it was above the Magdalaine. The capped PDCs unsheathed all across the freighter's bloated hull and targeted the Djinn. The Djinn's shields came up in response to the target lock and the corvette's PDCs sought out the weapon blisters on the freighter.

'Cap, the Mags is hailing us. She's not too pleased to have us sitting on top of her.' Wilkins announced.

'Open the line. Let's hear what they have to say.'

'Djinn, this is the Trans-System Haulage Company light freighter, Magdalaine. We request that you move away to a more favourable five-thousand kilometres off our rimward bow and explain your reasons for your behaviour.' A gruff voice said. He sounded annoyed that anyone would be so bold to approach and challenge them, especially under stealth.

Pata muttered an amused curse under his breath.

'Excuse me?' Maya spluttered, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She was well versed in a whole range of reactions from those she had pulled aside for inspection in such a fashion, but this was not one of them. Usually reactions ranged from bewildered, pleasant, cooperative and hostile. This was the first time a civillian had given her orders, fully expecting her to comply with their demands.

'I repeat, you will move to a safer distance of five-thousand kilometres and explain your behaviour.' The voice repeated.

A heavy silence descended on the bridge, thick with amusement. Everyone exchanged looks as Maya's mind caught up with what had just been demanded of her. Her first instinct was to shoot his drive block out. She quashed the urge immediately and kept the Djinn in place. That was a last resort, should the Magdalaine try to run again. No doubt the voice wanted to do one of two things: get enough space between the freighter and the corvette to try to escape to FTL or to turn the disruptor cannon on them. Or both, Maya mused. Five-thousand kilometres was a good distance for solid targeting acquisition.

'They're definitely up to something.' Pata said quietly so that no one but her could hear.

Maya nodded, 'Magdalaine, do you have a P.O Slip to back up your bold demands?' She asked the blank view screen. The Magdalaine had opted for audio only and was tucked beneath the corvette, the tips of its tallest antenna mere metres away from the warship's belly plates.

'We do have a Priority Order Slip.' The voice replied coolly.

Pata narrowed his eyes. The reply had come a little too quickly, as if the owner of the voice was getting desperate about getting away.

'Then I will have to ask you to prove it. Stand by for boarding. If your P.O Slip is genuine and in date, then you can be on your way. If none of those requirements is met or if you fail to produce said slip or produce a fraudulent slip, then you will submit for a full inspection; that means your ship and crew will investigated inside and out.' She purred silkily.

There was a long pause. Maya double checked the comms signal, finding it to still be connected and strong. She was tempted to send Moro down to the freighter for a forced entry and inspection then and there rather than wait for the airlock to open, but the thought was derailed when a different voice started speaking, this one much more calm and cooperative.

'Captain Li, I apologise for my First Mate's tone. We've been having some difficulty with our ship this week and we're about at our wits end with her. I'm Luis Freehan, captain of the TSH freighter, Magdalaine. If you would give us a moment to get the airlock prepped, you're welcome to come aboard. Freehan out.'

The line cut and Maya stared blankly at the viewscreen as Pata worked through the Magdalaine's list of citations. One of the issues with the freighter was with the airlocks. One was welded shut, the other was so abused that it sometimes barely worked and often took five minutes or more to cycle. He wondered if it was done on purpose, to help stall any inspections that could scupper whatever plans the captain and his crew had in place. He suggested as such to Maya who nodded thoughtfully. Before joining the Shadow Stalkers, she had spent her time burning off her excess aggression through piracy and he had spent his career boarding pirate ships. They were both well versed in such situations and both preferred to let the offending party work their way down their check-list of excuses and alibis.

Going from being a career soldier and serving in her world's special forces to being sold off as a slave had left her with a long hit list and scars that she learned could only be healed through violence. Pillaging cruise ships, private shuttles and freighters had been oddly cathartic for her. However, the transition from army, to sex slave, to captaining a star ship had been jarring, but she had managed it, downloading and studying a wide array of Black Navy literature from all kinds of races and learning on the fly what worked and what didn't.

She glanced at her status board. Major Moro was standing in the airlock with her group, ready to go, no doubt getting impatient.

'Begin ship to ship boarding procedures.' Maya said.

'Aye, Captain. We're lined up with the Magdalaine's airlock. Extending docking tube. Tube extended and docking collar ready for deployment. We're still waiting on the Magdalaine.' Horan announced.

~~~~~~

Major Trin Moro stood at the head of the small group, her gauss rifle held in the crook of her lower arms as she fed commands into the airlock's control panel, her patience wearing thin. The hornet was so engrossed in what she was doing, the fact that Private Andy Deven was hovering at her shoulders, watching what she was doing, barely registered.

'Deven, I suggest you put your helmet on before you lose your head.' She said absently as she read the data filing onto the small screen embedded in the airlock wall.

The Magdalaine's airlock still hadn't begun to cycle. It had been seven minutes since Captain Freehan had granted them permission to board. Trin swore in her native language, a deep, buzzing series of clicks cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife. She felt like she was being played and that Captain Freehan was laughing at her from the otherside of the heavy doors. The skink rammed his helmet down over his head, checking the seals as they clicked softly into place. Upon hearing the click, she nodded her approval. She would not have anyone under he command walking into a potential death-trap without the proper protection. Trin cancelled her orders and the computer's screen cleared and darkened as it went back into stand-by.

She looked over her shoulder, surveying her chosen team, all of them armed and armoured; the Legionnaires in their battle armour and the others who were clad in lightly armoured pressure suits, the tools of their trade holstered in pouches and slings at their hips. Everyone in the boarding party had heard the brief conversation between Captains Li, Freehan and his Second. The shift from hostility to pleasent cooperation had been somewhat jarring and had left a cold knot of hostility deep in Trin's stomach. The last time she had met someone like those two, it had ended in bloodshed and Trin figured this time would be no different no matter how well she reacted to the situation.

She eyed her team and wondered, with grim finality, who was going to be injured this time. Just like Captain Li, Trin had, at one point in her life, been a ne'er do well herself, working as security aboard an old battlecruiser that had been retrofitted to moonlight as a smuggler during its regular border patrol excercises. She had no romantic ideas about these situations and accepted the reality of life in space with an almost fatalistic air of acceptence, something which tended to bother a lot of people who met her. Thankfully, a lot of people she worked with were in the same boat; people who had been left high and dry by their previous C.Os, sailors and soldiers who had been discarded or written off as deadweight the moment the fighting was over. Everyone in the airlock, including Nurse Faeren had a colourful history attached to them. None of them had clean hands and, if she was the religious type, she would not have any doubts that she would go to a terrible place once she was dead.

'Captain? You want me break their door down?' Trin asked over the in-ship comm, a note of hope in her voice.

'Give it until the ten minute mark. Then I'll issue the warning.' Maya's voice came back. She sounded frustrated and Trin knew exactly how she felt. The longer they were kept waiting around, the more time the Magdalaine's crew got to sort themselves out.

Trin turned back to the airlock door and eyeballed the chrono that floated in the upper corner of her helmet's HUD. The seconds were ticking by sluggishly and her boarding party was getting antsy. Chief Flint flexed his wings as best he could in the cramped space, swearing and calling the crew of the freighter all the names he could think up.

'You okay back there?' Trin asked as she stared straight ahead, watching the seconds tick down.

'I got cramp in my damned wings.' The gryphon muttered angrily.

'Thirty more seconds and then we're kicking their door in.' Trin assured the ship's chief purser.

She felt for him, feeling a twinge of phantom pain in the roots of her wings. Any winged insectoid that took to a career in space had to have their wings amputated and replaced with cybernetic implants so they could wear their smartweave and whatever other armour or work clothes their chosen career entailed, without ruining the silky, paper thin membranes. Granted, they were stronger than they looked, but for a life in space, they were a hindrance and a danger, especially for the moths and butterflies who shed dust and fine scales wherever they went. Trin's wings were now a quartet of elongated, oval plates of a featherweight alloy. They were holomatter generators and were tied in to her wetware, allowing her to summon her hardlight wings at a second's notice. They were, indeed, practical in a space faring sense, but also utterly terrifying when the circuits failed to respond correctly for whatever reason or another.

At least, she thought, the act of willing mutilation was just as beautiful as the real thing, if not more so. As a perk of having the implants, the spacer could cycle the holomatter through whatever shades and patterns they wanted, either stock colours and patterns, ones of their own making or ones that could be downloaded from a vast collection created and curated by millions of others who had had to undergo the same procedure. Trin wasn't the most vain person on Stalos, so she stuck with the default colouring of what her wings used to hold before she had them removed: a nice, basic transluscent black.

'Ten minutes are up. We're going in.' Trin announced sharply.

She moved to open the outer airlock door when Maya's voice cut across the comm.

'They're cycling their airlock now. Stand-by for boarding.'

Trin sighed in disappointment and Corporal Taryk slipped her small spool of breaching charge back into its pouch at her hip.

'Next time Taryk.' Maya soothed the deflated Panzaarian.

'I'll hold you to that, Cap.' The squat woman said.

'I have no doubt about that. Now, get in there and find out what's really going on with them. And remember: keep the comms open at all times. I want to see and hear everything you guys are doing.'

'Aye, Captain. Comms locked open.' Trin confirmed as she stepped down into the boarding tube, letting the low gravity slowly pull her down towards the pock marked hull of the Magdalaine.

She landed gently and stepped to one side, away from the door at her feet. The outer airlock door slowly opened with a deep, resonating groan that made the frame shudder beneath her feet. Trin held her rifle in a more upright position and peered into the glowing interior of the airlock. There were exposed wires and pipes lining the space, and the wall panels and deck grating was rusting. She grunted and swung down into the airlock, twisting as the Magdalaine's gravity caught her and turned to face the inner airlock door, which looked equally as neglected.

'I've been on derelicts that have been in better shape than this whole airlock.' Shimmervale said as he dropped down behind her, looking around.

The dragon sounded disgusted and rightfully so. Flying scrap or not, not a single inch of starship that was still in active service should look so worn. Trin had been expecting wear and tear, all the hallmarks of a hard life, but not to this degree. She started to wonder if the Magdalaine herself had been smuggled out of the scrap pile. Entire starfighters going missing she could wrap her mind around. H'rathrids were small, single seater craft, nothing more than a sublight drive and a weapons system with a cockpit attached as an afterthought. For an entire ship as big as the Magdalaine to avoid being broken apart for so long didn't sit right with her. And judging by Shimmervale's reaction as he peered through the tiny circle porthole in the door, he was fully prepared to take the freighter off of Freehan's hands then and there, regardless of any protests and false hull plating.

The crystal dragon's tail thumped the deck grating in irritation as he straightened, smoke venting in small whisps from the gills in his helmet, 'Captain, are we allowed to seize this ship under health and safety regulations?'

'Wait until you get a good look at their engine room. I have a feeling that she's in much better health than Freehan's letting on.' Maya replied. The signal crackled and whistled before strengthening again. 'If you find the ship is too lame to be sailing or that she's complicit in the thefts, then we can seize her. Oh, I should also warn you that the local Jes'wan border control has been alerted. I've sent them everything we have so far and we should have one of their ships with us in an hour. So try and have it done by then.'

They stepped back from the inner door as it started to grudgingly open, 'The signal just went bad again. Are they trying to block us?' Trin asked.

'Negative. We're detecting some odd energy readings in the main cargo hold which is trying to futz with our comms signal. Mister Wilkins is working on stabalizing it.' Maya replied.

The door finally grunted open and the boarding party stepped out into the narrow passage beyond. Trin ground her teeth in annoyance. No one was there to greet them and so they pressed forward alone, guns raised, Trin leading them with Taryk at the rear. Static tickled across Trin's smartweave clad antennae as she ducked through the oval portal of a broken pressure door and into the ship proper. They spread out on the narrow gantry that overlooked the cargo hold, one end a cluster of tightly packed, octagonal crates, the other half crammed full of regular shipping containers, each side six containers deep. A small maze of narrow walkways criss-crossed the deck beneath them.

'At least they look tied down properly.' Flint said as he leaned carefully over the railing, squinting into the gloom. He studiously ignored the distressed groaning of the walkway as he moved about.

'The whole place smells.' Deven muttered. He sniffed audibly, 'Kinda like old meat.'

'Maybe one of their containers have cracked open.' Trin mused.

'It takes a lot to crack one of these open. The ship may be a wreck, but the cargo's nicely locked up in high-end shipping containers.' Flint said, pointing to the nearest one, 'You don't get seals like that on any container older than two years, Standard. Each unit's rubber sealed, has hydraulic clamps and for the perishables, you get built-in stasis fields as back-ups. These are high-end units, each one costing four-thousand Credits or more, depending on if it's a basic model or a specialised one. I want one.'

'Excellent observation.' Freehan said from the other end of gantry. Each step he took shook the whole thing, putting them all on edge. Flakes of rust drifted to the deck below with each step he took. 'You in the haulage business?'

'Could say that.' Flint said cautiously.

'This is Chief Purser of the Djinn.' Trin said, 'He's here to help us inspect your cargo. That is, if you don't have a P.O Slip.' She eyed him up and checked the signal strength. The Djinn was remaining quiet, but it was watching.

Freehan was Candaran, much to Trin's surprise. To her knowledge, the TSH was a Jes'wan owned and operated company. For them to be hiring people outside their own race was odd. TSH was small by inter-system standards, so unless Candara and TSH had struck a major bargain at some point, then Freehan's presence aboard the ship was wrong. And for him to be captain of said ship, was downright suspicious as far as she was concerned. To her, it screamed guilt and judging by the reaction of the rest of her team, they were having the same thoughts. Before she could voice her query about that, Flint beat her to it.

'Jes'wa hiring outsiders now?' He asked bluntly. His wings were still aching and Freehan's easy going manner and pleasant smile was annoying him for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Coupled with the fact that he had high-end shipping containers stowed in the belly of a rotten freighter that was disguised as another rotten freighter, and the gryphon had decided that he didn't like the man.

'Special dispensation.' Freehan said smoothly, ignoring Flint's tone. He pulled a sheet of flimsy from a sheaf of paperwork that he had tucked under his arm and handed it to Trin. It was the P.O Slip.

For a moment, Flint thought he saw Freehan's smile falter as Trin started to study the Priority Order Slip with a keen interest. She then handed it to Flint.

'It's excellent work, don't you think?' The hornet purred in genuine appreciation over the squad channel so that Freehan could not hear.

Flint studied it; studied the print, the wording, the signatures, the gaps between letters and, most importantly, the seal of authenticity that had been stamped in the bottom right corner. He pulled a small datapad type device from his pocket and scanned the seal. It took two seconds too long to register as being authentic. Another five seconds for the device - a small manifest recognition scanner he had bought at the start of this mission for just such purposes - to tell him that the seal was out-of-date by two months. Flint grunted a noncommital noise. The Jes'wan Guild of Allied Commerce had been put under investigation for fraudulent activities three months ago and had been dismantled last month, making everything attached to them null and void. All trade licenses, P.O Slips and contracts issued by them had been rendered illegal by default under the Fraud Act. Flint made a quick query about the licensing number to the new Guild of Commerce who had quickly taken over, trying not to swear aloud when his query was added to a long list of others.

'Won't be a moment. We seem to be having some issues with the licensing number for your P.O Slip.' Flint replied with an apologetic smile that was slightly warped out of shape by his pressure suit's visor.

Freehan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide his impatience.

'Whilst we wait on the chief, how about we get on with the standard ship inspection?' Trin said with a smile.

Freehan's mask of politeness cracked a little, his bright eyes flickering with annoyance.

'Of course. Where would you like to start?'

'Nurse Faelen, go with Taryk and Deven to the medibay. Chief Shimmervale, you and Private Se'yannah head down to engineering. Myself and Hillok will help Chief Flint with cargo inspections.' Trin replied easily, the blank stare of her helmet focussed entirely on Captain Freehan.

'I'll call my department heads and have someone escort you there.' He said and issued some muttered orders into his headset all the while never taking his eyes off the group of armoured figures.

'Is there a problem Captain?' Trin asked.

'No, no problem, besides having an inspection forced onto me when you have a perfectly valid P.O Slip.'

Valid my metasoma... She thought angrily. The document was so carefully forged it was almost flawless. The things that let it down and gave it away was the shade of the flimsy, which was a shade of blue darker than usual. There was also two grammatical errors, a faint line running through the middle of the document, barely visible behind the text, suggesting a malfunctioning printer, something that would have had the document scrapped and re-printed until perfect. And then there was the matter of the seal, which contained the licensing number in an embedded microchip. She wondered who the forger was and if they were someone she had dealt with before as she watched members of Freehan's crew drift into view to escort her team away to begin the inspection.

She decided that she didn't like any of them. The ship's doctor was clad in stained whites and looked exhausted to the point of burnout, the engineer's mate was arthritic and could barely move and Freehan's chief purser looked like he chewed on live electrical wires as a hobby. Only the engineer's mate was Jes'wan. The rest were Candaran. The hair on the back her neck prickled and she shifted her gauss rifle in her grip meaningfully, staring hard at Freehan. Having a foreigner in charge of a Jes'wan registered ship was suspicious. Having lots of foreigners in high ranking positions on a Jes'wan ship meant that something was very wrong. She quietly checked in with the Djinn, checking that they had seen what she had seen.

'Aye, we saw it. Did they buy the ship or take it?' Maya wondered aloud, her tone suggesting exactly what Trin was thinking; that they seized the ship and did away with the original crew.

'Right, where're your shipping manifests?' Trin asked Freehan.

Freehan's expression seemed to slip a little more. Trin saw a bead of sweat prickle his high forehead and her mandibles spread in a nasty smile that he couldn't see.

'You look a little pale Captain, do you require medical assistance?' She prodded innocently.

He looked bewildered by the question and gave her his best sickly smile, 'Ate something for lunch that didn't agree with me. Our resupply was not so kind to our food stores so we have to suffer with vacpak meals until we reach our destination.'

Trin nodded in genuine understanding, though she had a feeling that it wasn't just the ship's food that was making him ill. She knew he was a fraud and he knew that she knew, and her not bringing it up immediately was making things worse for him. She hated vacpak meals with a passion and was starting to feel that same emotion for him. She was a few inches taller than his 6', had an extra set of arms and if she didn't decide to shoot him, then she could just lance him with her sting and curdle his innards if he tried something she deemed to be stupid. Either way, he was far from prepared to fight a heavily armed hornet wearing top tier battle armour, especially when all he had was a chunky pressure suit, a small 9mm semi-automatic pistol, a dagger and his tendrils. Freehan could no doubt exert an awful lot of pressure with those tendrils, but he'd be dead by the time she even started to feel the effects of any attack he made. As for those in her team that only had the standard issue vacsuits, a physical confrontation could be very nasty indeed. She just hoped that the only thing they got from this crew was a couple of scrapes and bruises.

Not likely, not with my luck.

'The manifests are in my office. This way, please.' He said and led them off the gantry and through another small pressure door that opened up into a narrow passage that connected the rest of the ship to the bridge module and living areas.

The bridge module was cramped, allowing the captain and three others to work in the space, with a breakfast nook and head directly behind on one side and the tiny medibay to the other with his office wedged between. The pressure door to the bridge compartment was open and there was a pair of Candarans sitting at the helm and navigation and a Jes'wan who looked far too young to be a fully fledged spacer sitting at sensors. Trin stared at them momentarily, another red flag going up in her field of red red flags. The girl looked out of her depth with her work and also looked scared of her colleagues. The bridge itself, whilst stripped down and appearing the worse for wear like the rest of the ship, looked surprisingly intact and functional with new bolts and panels gleaming here and there. The computers and the main view screen also looked more modern, just like the shipping containers. Trin opened her mouth to say something about it when Hillok butted in.

'She's just a child.' Hillok said over the squad comm, 'In training by the looks of it.'

'I hope she's got a vet sensors tech to teach her. That shit ain't easy to master.' Flint replied.

'You tried sensors?'

'Yeah. I was terrible at it. Mistook an asteroid for a heavy cruiser during an excercise and I haven't lived it down since. Turns out I was real good with getting my hands on things I wasn't allowed to get my hands on, though, hence why I landed in the purser's ball park. My sensors training comes in real handy sometimes, though, especially when it comes to prying into crates I'm not allowed to open.' The gryphon's grin was a little malicious, garnering him a suspicious look off Freehan who had just handed Trin a stack of hardcopy manifests after he had successfully managed to lure the three of them into his cramped office. He leaned against his desk in silence as she shuffled through the paperwork, his hard gaze lingering on Flint.

Trin flicked through the paperwork, handing a bundle to Flint, another to Hillok and keeping the rest for herself. She made sure that her suit's systems were getting a good, clear image of what was written on the flimsy. If Maya had any reaction to what was on the manifests, then she gave no sign of it, keeping up the radio silence.

'When were these barrels of fertiliser dropped off?' Hillok asked. He pointed to the cargo in question.

Freehan looked at it, frowned and went thoughtful. 'Dropped off at Impart Station four months ago.'

'And no one signed off on it?'

'It was signed off. I think you'll find all paperwork, both hardcopy and digital, to be recent and correct.'

'You got a digital copy?' Hillok pressed, showing Fllint the un-signed manifest.

'No. We recently had some datacore issues. It failed on us and so we had to swap it out. All digital information up until a month ago is currently being purged from the damaged core back at TSH HQ. I'm afraid the hardcopies are all we have left of those shipments.' Freehan replied apologetically.

Flint gave him a hard look from the corner of his eye.

'I'm sure Impart still has them on record if they're the ones who handled the goods.' Trin said absently as she went through her own pile of paperwork, one side of her mind wondering why a resupply and repair space station needed so much fertiliser. So far as she knew, Impart's hydroponics section was limited to a single room no bigger than the the Djinn and they got all their fertiliser from their nearest colony world, not from an agri-world in the Tinman Sector. 'This is an awful lot of manifests for a company that insists on taking in all records of goods delivered and un-delivered on a yearly basis for processing. Why didn't your boss clean you out this year?'

'Our year hasn't ended yet. We set sail six months ago, so we have another six months left.' Freehan explained. 'It's been real busy.'

'Standard or local time?'

'Standard, Major Moro.' He sighed, his patience wearing thin.

Trin looked at him coolly as she quietly queried Maya and the rest of her party.

'Neither I, my team, nor my captain gave you my name or rank.' She said flatly.