> The Bureau of Ships and Services responded to growing complaints about long lead times for new ship registration, and millions of inaccurate entries in the Independent Transport Division's database that have resulted in a spate of run-ins between freighters and law enforcement at all levels.
>
> Spokesperson Ghasael Moonetta stated, 'We want to assure independent spacers and small commercial operators that the Bureau is aware of the recent... issues. We're working day and night to update the transponder database, and synchronize the remote nodes that authorities rely on to ensure the uninterrupted flow of legitimate commerce throughout the galaxy.'
>
> When questioned about the source of the problem, Moonetta said, 'It's not a problem, exactly. Following the official cessation of hostilities between the Alliance and the former Galactic Empire, commercial applications have increased several thousand percent in a very short time. We're ramping up to address the backlog. If it is a problem, it's a good one to have.'
>
> We reached out to the New Republic government for comment. General Han Solo, a spacer himself before joining the government, had this to say:
>
> 'Never had much use for B.O.S.S.— too much red tape for a guy like me. But I realize they provide a useful service. Most spacers out there are just trying to make an honest living and improve people's lives. I hope the Bureau gets their house in order soon, for everyone's sake.'
>
> Presented with General Solo's comments, Moonetta declined to respond.
- Raster Moltaross
Galactic HoloNet News 'Spacers Space' broadcast
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41:03:12 GrS
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The encounter with the pirates put them behind schedule by nearly four hours. When the flight of patrol boats from the Lantillies Orbital Police arrived, they had to give their report and undergo an impromptu inspection which left Lyra fuming. Meanwhile, Sera and Yuzu patched up the worst of the combat damage. Hours later, a thoroughly irritated Lyra brought Allegra's Heart into the Gribolin City spaceport on her repulsors and steered toward the open-air intermodal pad they'd been assigned.
The big spaceport covered nearly sixty square kilometers of real estate that had been carved out of an ancient glacial plain. Its broad expanses of open duracrete stretched far into the distance. Towering cylindrical buildings topped with every kind of shape, from inverted pyramids to dodecahedrons, globes, and thick disks, made a shapely skyline for Gribolin City some fifteen kilometers to the north. Lyra yawed the freighter as it descended, setting it inside the illuminated markers. A little thump through the deck plates indicated that the struts had taken Allegra's weight in the standard gravity. She idled the repulsors while Sera dialed up their cargo agent to explain the situation.
Fifteen minutes later, Lyra stood beside the ramp and supervised the unloading while she ran her fingers through her hair. "This is his job," she grumbled, then kicked herself. "Four months and you get this soft when he's gone for a few days?"
A low-slung cargo hauler rumbled toward her on a pair of pusher turbines spitting gouts of sooty smoke. A repurposed R1 astromech was grafted onto the front of the big old truck. Lyra's mouth curled into a wry smile. She could at least appreciate the practicality of the mash-up, if not its apparent desperation.
Yuzu was busy bringing the crimson hull plates down the cargo ramp. Three labor droids detached from sockets on the sled and walked up Allegra's ramp to assist. They emerged a minute later, pushing the showy merchandise on the crates' built-in repulsors.
Lyra ambled over to the Advozse agent directing the cargo loading. She'd taken off her shaded goggles to issue directions to the droids, and her big black eyes caught the diffuse light of the overcast sky.
"Are you Rendix?" asked the agent.
"I'm Nimor."
"Where's Rendix?"
"She's busy. I'm the pilot. I'll sign for the cargo transfer."
The Advozse looked annoyed, though it was easy to miss; frowning was the natural expression for the taciturn repto-mammalians. She took in the carbonized streaks and slagged hull plates with a chary glare. "Any damage sustained in transit?"
"No," she guessed. They'd spent all their time dealing with the Lantillian authorities and fixing the worst damage from the pirate attack, so they hadn't had time to check the cargo. It had been well-secured when they left Ongary IX, but she'd jinked Allegra around pretty hard to keep from getting those mudrutters from blowing up her ship, so... Lyra shrugged and put on her most indifferent expression. "Look for yourself if you want."
The brown-skinned agent took a step toward the cargo bed, then stopped. Her scowl grew. "I'm already behind schedule thanks to you."
"We were in-system on time. Blame the pirates for your problems," Lyra quipped and held out her hand. "If you're not going to inspect the cargo, can I sign for it?"
The female stared at her, but handed over the pad. Lyra signed the display with her thumbprint, then she inserted her code cylinder. "Awful lot of flash going on someone's ship with all that red hull metal," she commented, handing the datapad back to the four-fingered Advozse woman.
"Hmph," grunted the agent. "Expect payment in two days."
"Nice doing business with you, too."
She walked back to the ship where the droids were bringing out the last of the havod. The damage Allegra had taken was tattooed onto her hull in black scoring, ruptured hull plates, and a blasted engine cowling where a lucky shot had bypassed the armored control vane. "Oh, Allegra, poor girl. We'll have you back to your beautiful self in no time." She put her hand on the boarding ramp's actuator and gave it an affectionate pat.
Sera came down the ramp wearing a sympathetic smile. "Hard seeing her banged up like this, isn't it?"
Lyra didn't say anything but she let out a long sigh.
"Any problems with the delivery?"
Lyra dispelled her reverie with a shake of her head. "Just an Advozse with an attitude."
Sera chuckled. "You two must have gotten along famously." She yawned and stretched.
"Tired?"
"More hungry than tired. Feel like trying the local fare? I could go for something other than synthesized food for a change."
Lyra scowled. "Bar slop tastes pretty much the same everywhere."
"You wouldn't be saying that if Doc was asking."
"Shut up, Rendix," Lyra sniped, falling in step with the laughing Sera as they headed for the spaceport arrival terminals.
They found seats at a table near the side entrance to the Gribolin Griffon. It was predictably noisy, with the occasional raucous eruption, but the lighting was decent. Sera found a table near the wall where she could keep an eye on the doors. They perused the menu, which scrolled by on a flat-screen display, then punched in their food orders. Drinks had to be requested at the bar, so Lyra navigated her way around the clumps of patrons toward the center of the Griffon.
At the long curving bar, a rowdy crowd of spacers in various stages of inebriation were busy getting even drunker. Lyra couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but they seemed to be drowning their sorrows, and perhaps toasting missing companions.
She elbowed her way to the counter and signaled to the droid on the other side. Next to her, a scaly-faced red Nikto said something angry into his comlink before slamming it on the transparent bar top, then grumbled between swallows of foamy purple beer.
Lyra ordered whiskey for Rendix and a comet's tail for herself. The multi-armed droid turned to the liquor well to begin pouring. "Trouble?"
The portly Nikto gave her a narrow look. "Spacers!" he spat before returning to his drink. "Least reliable species in the galaxy."
"Not all of us," Lyra challenged. "Somebody leave you in the lurch?"
"Sixty tons of cargo, I told them, and what do those tramp cramps show up in? Some breaker yard reject that's held together with conduit tape and good wishes, with a twenty-five-ton hold!"
Lyra tapped the top of the bar absently with her fingers. "What's the cargo?"
"What's it to you?" crabbed the horned humanoid.
Lyra scowled at his attitude. She'd already had a long, bad day, and a moody Nikto wasn't making it any better. Maybe his day's been just as bad. "I have a ship with plenty of hold space. Maybe we can make a deal." She stuck out her hand. "Lyra Nimor, with Rixon Charter Service."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The Nikto looked skeptical but shook Lyra's hand, then handed her a plastic business card. "Rintabo Yon, independent cargo agent. My customer needs a load of ceraglass delivered to Enarc."
Lyra glanced at the card. A shimmering holoimage danced above it, showing a starship straight out of a vintage holodrama that rocketed into the distance. Yon's name and title coalesced within the illusory exhaust plume. Lyra pocketed the card. She took the two glasses that the barkeeper set before her and nodded to the table where Sera was waiting. "My partner's over there. Want to talk business, or keep drowning your sorrows in cheap beer?"
The Nikto made an expression that Lyra couldn't read but he stood. "Lead the way."
After some back and forth, Sera and Lyra each shook hands with the cargo agent. The Nikto nodded to them before taking his leave.
Sera patted the datapad on the table between them. "Nice work getting that contract."
Lyra shrugged. "It's only sixty tons of ceraglass. Almost not worth the trip."
"Somebody needs it and it's bound for Enarc. That's your neighborhood, isn't it?" When Lyra didn't say anything, she continued. "How long since you've been back?"
"Nine years," Lyra grumbled, looking dour.
Sera could guess the reason why. She started to say more when the server walked toward them, balancing a tray of food and mugs of ale as she dodged and weaved her way through the patrons. The brownish-green Saurian deposited their food and left after Lyra paid with her credit chip.
One of the men at the bar took notice of the two women sitting alone and sauntered over. His patterned face stretched with a broad smile full of grimy, sharpened teeth. His glass wavered, barely managing to retain the cut-rate rotgut. "You two know this is a rough spot, don't you? It ain't a place for delicate flowers."
Lyra waved with her fork. "Buzz off, idiot. Find somebody else to serenade with your mouth-breathing." She poked a meatball, rolled it around in the spicy sauce on her plate, and popped it in her mouth.
"Wha'd you say, bitch?" he slurred, glazed eyes narrowing.
Lyra glowered at him. Across from her, Sera started to stand, but the pilot stopped her with a raised hand and dropped her fork. The man's nasally intonation was still fresh in her mind; she'd heard it only a few hours before. Normally she'd have avoided a confrontation, but her fury at the pirate attack had been simmering all evening. Now one of the sketworms who'd beaten up her ship was standing at her table.
Ignoring her better sense, Lyra got out of her seat and poked a finger in the man's chest. "What's your malfunction, gashole? Getting your V-wings blown to hell by a couple of 'delicate flowers' not enough punishment for one day?"
The man's dark eyes dilated and the blood rose to his pocked, tattooed face. "You were on that ship—?" His loud, angry voice drew the attention of his fellows, who started crossing the floor as the man's hand drew back into a fist. He snarled and threw the punch— right into Sera's interposed forearm.
"That was the wrong play," growled the ex-commando. Impossibly sinuous and fast, she slipped behind him and sent the man stumbling toward his advancing compatriots via a swift kick in the ass. The plastered pirate sprawled on the beer-spattered floor at the feet of his fellows. Sera flashed a sharp smile, suddenly invigorated. "Anybody else want some of that, boys?"
There was a sound of breaking bottles and someone bellowed: "FIIIIIGHT!"
In an instant, chaos erupted in the bar. Patrons jumped over tables, hurled bar stools and chairs, and attacked each other with abandon. Lyra dodged as one of the pirates charged, his head lowered like a rutting bull nerf. Sera put a hand on the back of the man's skull as he passed and directed his forehead into the edge of the table, then leaned aside and aimed a kick at a green-skinned Rodian wearing a mish-mash of armor from at least eight different armies, catching him in the solar plexus. A third assailant landed a sloppy fist on her jaw, but the former commando rolled with the punch, drove her cybernetic knee into his crotch, and left him howling on the floor. The entire time, she wore a calm, adamantine grin.
She's having fun, damn her! thought Lyra in the brief heartbeats between bouts of terror. A Human and a three-eyed Gran traded blows and crashed into the table next to theirs. Lyra brought a beer mug down on top of the nearest one's head with a solid crack, splashing brown ale on her jacket and blouse. "Rutting pirates! I just bought that blouse!" she smacked the Gran across its goatish snout with the heavy glass flagon for good measure.
"A shirt's no good until it gets a little grimy, Imp," Sera drawled, blocking another inbound fist, countering with a combination to the gut and a compact jab that left the pugnacious Klatoonian's nose at an odd angle, blood freely flowing.
Someone crashed into Sera from the side, knocking her off balance while he flailed wildly at her torso. The two of them passed in front of Lyra, who fell back into her chair, then slammed her boot heel into the furry pirate's spine. He howled and she kicked him in the face when he turned to see who'd hit him. The pointy-eared Ariwook withered and cradled his flat face, spitting teeth.
Lyra shouted above the chaos. "Some of us don't want to walk around looking like blurrg ranchers, Rebel!" She scrambled out of the chair and swung it like a cudgel while Sera flung a plate of food at an advancing Devaronian, blinding him with the roasted vegetables and deep-fried kholetsu tails. Then she stepped adroitly aside and tripped the big ruddy man as he stumbled by, sending him reeling.
An ear-splitting shriek suddenly reverberated in the bar. A scrawny-looking Hrakian with a matted mop of murky hair jumped onto the counter. Wild-eyed, he unleashed another howl and dove into the crowd, flinging patrons aside with abnormal ease and laying about with balled fists.
The bar's customers began to take notice of the mindless berserker's rampage, scrambling out of his way as wailing claxons announced the arrival of the police. Dozens of officers wearing Gribolin City Police, spaceport security, even traffic enforcement uniforms, surged through the entrances, stun truncheons swinging.
Sera dropped the nearly unconscious woman she had in a headlock. She raised her arms as the police headed their way. "Hands up, Imp. Best not to give the cops a reason to use those batons."
Standing back to back with her, Lyra had raised her hands long before Sera's warning. Shaking from adrenaline and fear, she glanced over her shoulder, chest heaving. "Worry about yourself, Rebel. I'm not the one standing in a pile of bodies." She sucked breath deep into her lungs. Rendix's hand-to-hand skills seemed to fall somewhere between a dance and a cyclone. "What kind of fighting was that?"
"A variant of Teräs Käsi." Barely breathing hard, she smiled. "That was fun. Haven't been in a decent bar fight for a while."
"That's your idea of fun?"
Sera's only answer was an aloof grin. She offered no resistance as a burly cop grabbed her arms and bound her wrists with disposable cuffs.
An alien woman stood in front of the tall commando, shaking her head and looking vaguely amused. Sera didn't recognize her species. She was about Lyra's size, with striking feline features and light bronze skin covered in irregular black stripes. Her dark green hair would have fallen to the small of her back if it wasn't bound in a tight bun.
The humanoid was fit and athletic, and didn't mind showing it. Her short jacket and cropped black top exposed a toned abdomen. Matching skin-tight shorts rode low on her pelvis. Tonfa-style stun batons sat on each hip and her belt burgeoned with equipment pouches. A compact blaster rode at the small of her back.
The woman's jacket displayed the Sector Ranger's trio of gold stars under a laurel arch. She smiled, showing elongated canines as she relieved Sera of her PP40. "That's a lot of gun," said the officer, weighing the heavy blaster in her hands.
Sera returned her smile. "It's a dangerous galaxy. Sometimes a woman needs a little extra punch."
The ranger regarded the people groaning and struggling weakly on the floor. "Doesn't look like you needed anything extra this time." She looked Sera up and down then watched, either amused or amazed as the big cop divested her of a veritable arsenal. "Backup piece, vibroknife, shock knucklers... microblaster?"
"Backup for the backup," Sera shrugged. "Two is one and one is none, you know," she added, quoting the old special forces axiom. "Can't be too prepared."
"Mm hmm," the felinoid purred, idly rubbing her chin with a clawed finger. "I expect you could have killed everyone in this bar if you'd had a mind to."
"I didn't," Sera grinned, shaking her bound hands and flexing her bruised jaw as the cop subjected her to an ungentle pat-down. He plucked a collapsible stun baton and another vibroknife from Sera's boots, piling the weapons on the table.
"That's everything," he reported to the smaller ranger. "I think."
"Making friends with the nice officer, Rebel?" quipped Lyra.
"We were just discussing what a dangerous galaxy it is with all you disgruntled Imps running loose."
"Hey! Watch the hands, jackhole!" Lyra snapped. The cop had his meaty mitts under her jacket, his weapon search verging suspiciously toward a grope.
"Shaddup or I'll shut you up," growled the man, aiming an ugly look at Lyra.
"That'd be a good way to ruin our cooperative attitude, Officer," Sera advised. She glanced meaningfully at the bodies littering the floor around her and fixed him with a grin that was about as friendly as a buzzsaw.
The ranger flicked an annoyed look at the trooper. "Having a problem with your search, Kobler?"
"No, ma'am," answered the bulky cop.
"Finish up, then."
"Yes, ma'am." The cop gave both women hard glares but he completed Lyra's pat-down with a modicum of professionalism.
The ranger gave Lyra's blaster an approving nod and tucked it in her belt behind her hip opposite Sera's. "Are you together?" asked the alien, flicking her feline green eyes back and forth between the women. Her ears swiveled, the soft tufts on the tips twitching ever so slightly.
"Well, together's a loaded term," Sera said.
"Plenty of room for misinterpretation," agreed Lyra.
"A Rebel and an Imp together?"
"Doesn't seem likely."
The ranger made a sound halfway between a meow and a growl. "You two aren't going to cause me any trouble, are you?" She thumbed toward the Hrakian and the trio of cops flailing away at him with their stun batons. "I've already got plenty of problems to deal with." They finally managed to subdue him, though he continued to struggle despite the shock binders they clamped over his wrists.
"What do you suppose he got into?" Lyra wondered.
"Bad batch of spice, maybe." Sera addressed the ranger with a smile. "We're not here to cause trouble, Officer—?"
"Renosi. Sector Rangers, Lantillian division. And you?"
"Sera Rendix, captain of the registered light freighter Allegra's Heart." She nodded toward her jacket pocket. "ID's in there."
"Rixon Charter Service, hm?" quoted the ranger, reading Sera's ident card. She glanced at Lyra. "What about you?"
"Sleeve pocket," answered Lyra, wiggling her left shoulder. Renosi retrieved Lyra's ID. "What about our cargo pickup, Rendix?" Lyra asked while the ranger reviewed their credentials.
Sera looked at Officer Renosi. "We'll need to contact our ship. We're expecting to pick up a load of ceraglass."
"After you're processed, sure."
"You're arresting us?" Lyra exclaimed, looking incredulous. "We were the victims here!"
"If that's true, we'll get it all straightened out at the station. For now—" she glanced at the groaning bodies who were slowly getting up or being hauled away— "I'm holding you on suspicion of incitement and breaching the peace."
"Great," Lyra griped. "First these chuffing pirates shoot up my ship, now I'm getting treated like a criminal! Can this day get any worse?"
"Pirates?" Renosi fixed Lyra with a lynxian gaze but the pilot just grumbled and looked annoyed.
The team of police dragged the Hrakian, who'd seemingly lost interest in fighting, out of the bar. Renosi's intense stare followed them before she turned back to the two women. "For what it's worth I'm sorry for the trouble. You'll be released in a few hours if your story checks out. If not, you can post bail with the Magistrate's office."
Lyra scoffed, but in response to the nudge Sera gave her she swallowed the retort she was about to utter.
Trooper Kobler took each of their arms in a hammy fist and walked them out. The air had cooled off as the sun dipped behind the Gribolin skyline, casting orange and pink dusklight on the underside of the thin clouds.
"I'd watch that guy," Sera advised the cop, eyeing the sallow-skinned Hrakian. "He's not as out of it as he looks."
"We've got it handled," Kobler sneered.
Ahead of them, the guards were herding the Hrakian into the back of a prisoner transport. Abruptly he uttered an inhuman-sounding shriek. His arms whipped around, smashing the heavy binders into one guard's face. The trooper screamed and crumpled, but the Hrakian didn't stop to notice. His hands lashed out, clamping around the other trooper's throat in the gap between the man's protective helmet and vest. There was an audible crack and the officer collapsed to the ground, his head lolling at a completely unnatural angle.
"Rutting hell," Lyra swore as all hell broke loose.