The chrono said they were still three hours out from Presna.

A handful of the reports he’d asked for had come in, from Cutter and Cenz who had both said in so many words that they just did not have enough information yet to speculate who might be behind the piracy.

Which was about as much as he had expected. They did not have enough information here, but he did not like going in blind.

It just seemed too easy. He could imagine how some desperate spacers might view a single isolated attack as something they might get away with. But these pirates were fools if they thought they could turn Sapient Union colonies into a hunting ground.

Certainly there were plenty of fools in the universe, but they had to know there would be a response, quickly, and that it would be hard.

So they were idiots or they did have something that made them this confident. Both options added a lot of complications, because at least with the competent you could reasonably predict what they might do.

Looking to his console, he brought it up and started a search.

“Find all files related to the Star Hunter,” he said.

The computer brought up the files. “Sort by those discussing the confirmed capabilities of the relic technology in his possession.”

The computer took a long time before displaying a list of files.

“Closest matches to request shown.”

Brooks perused the list, frowning.

These did not look like what he had asked for, but he scanned through them for the relevant information.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Yes, the Star Hunter had possessed some kind of relic technology, he’d won numerous victories, been able to move his ships in and out of zerospace more quickly than normal.

“But how much faster?” he asked.

“No data found.”

Brooks closed that file and checked the next.

“According to Dessei legends, the Star Hunter possessed relic technology . . .” Brooks mumbled, reading it. “. . . which supposedly granted him unexplainable abilities.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked into the next file.

“. . . Popular culture has claimed a variety of abilities from the relic technology, including superhuman strength, the ability to survive in the vacuum, control quantum entanglement to allow himself to teleport, to control the minds of others . . . but there is no evidence that these are based in fact.”

Brooks sat back. “So what is based in fact?” he asked the computer.

The computer was silent again for a long time.

“Computer, answer the question,” Brooks ordered.

“No answers found,” it told him.

“Nonsense,” he said. “There have to be Union files on this. Check classified files.”

“No answers found,” it repeated.

“Not found, or am I denied access?” Brooks asked.

The computer made an error sound, and that was answer enough. It couldn’t even tell him . . . so he was denied access to the data.

But just because someone wanted to hide that data didn’t mean they could hide everything about their involvement. He perused into the metadata of the ship’s archives – they were updated at regular intervals automatically, or when required for a mission.

He saw that the data had been altered when they’d gotten their orders. He could not say if things had been added, removed, or just changed, but he looked at the access code of the data connections during the last update.

Most were normal; civilian channels, astronavigation channels, science channels, command channels . . .

Then there was the Research Bureau.

Looking into other categories that might fall under their purview, he saw no updates or changes.

So. It was Director Freeman.

The man hated him and Brooks could entirely see why he’d involve himself in this. Relic technology would come under his purview, and he’d have the power to share or deny access to data.

But why hide it?

The last time Brooks had thought the man had been acting out of simple spite, it had turned out to be for a far more pragmatic purpose. As emotionally volatile as Freeman was, he was not a fool.

Now he had a lot more to think on.