The Price We Pay:
Aurora

By
Chajo and Lady MoonHawke


(Phantom)
I have parked the Blue Goose next to the parts warehouse. I am dressed for comfort today. Black jeans, boots, a white t-shirt and my fringed jacket. My gray-brown hair is loose down my back but kept out of my face thanks to my hat. I also have on a pair of shades.

I am waiting on a shipment of parts to arrive. I have a customer who paid well for the parts I delivered. I never ask what he does with them or why he needs so many. I just deliver them to a warehouse on Fence and pick up my payment. Cash. Clean cash at that. I’m smart enough to run the numbers through the computers to check against the numbers of stolen currency.

I'm wondering how long it will be before one of the SilverHawks says anything to me. I know they are not stupid. But there is little they can do about it. After all what I'm doing is completely legal. Once said parts leaves my hands, what happens to them is no longer my responsibility.

Somehow I find myself sitting at a small table in front of a coffee shop on Bedlama. The coffee is very good. Almost as good as Harry's over at the Sini*star Dinner.

I watch the citizens of Bedlama go about their every-day lives. It's interesting at times. Truly amazing who you see and who you meet.


(Aurora)
There are days when I wonder if I'll ever get used to this job. I swear I didn't want it; swear on a stack of Bibles. Swear on my daughter's soul. There are long moments whe nall I want is to hug her, to kiss her father til I'm dizzy for lack of air and laughing with joy at the same time. It can be done, I know. I've done it before.

Oh, Daddy, these shoes you left me are too big and I'm stumbling from crisis to crisis, trying not to trip and break everything you built. I didn't believe when you said you did it to protect Mom and Amy and me. I didn't know what you felt. I know now.

Bedlama is beautiful today. Bedlama is almost always beautiful. Even the rain falls with a quiet dignity, rarely breaking into monsoons that would flatten land, homes and families on Earth. And while it isn't Earth, for the moment, it will do. My Earth, the time and place of my childhood, holds nothing for me now but painful memories.

I've given myself an easy assignment. Jonathan almost begged me to take it, while he conducts the Penal Planet interviews. I risked the team and nearly died when I tried it. Maybe I’m not Supergirl after all. It had been a bad time to discover it.

There is a new courier in Limbo. Normally, we welcome any new face, but the word has been going around that she would take just about anything for the right price, no questions asked. My father worked so hard to ween Seymore away from running jobs for the Mob. If the rumors are true, this new girl will be much harder to convince.

Governor Xander's successor, Governor Phen'Toh has been very accomodating, sharing without hesitation what he knew about the new courier's ships, and the cargos she had both delivered and picked up. Supposedly everything that shipped through Bedlama has an inspection sticker on it. Neither the Governor nor I are naïve enough to trust that nothing slipped through unnoticed, but they did a damned good job, and for that I am grateful. They’re fairly serious about stopping unauthorized shipments as well, and that is our strongest asset.

I leave the meeting with my head whirling, filled with data about legitimate cargo, gray-market good, and outright contraband. If forced to write a report right now, I know it will tumble out in an incomprehensive jumble. I need a break, and there is a café on the corner with the best imported coffee from Earth. It is my one weakness; really good coffee.


I'm on my second cup by now. I'll be nicely wired for the next few hours. Going to need it. After the shipment arrives I plan on going over ever crate I'm going to be transporting. But until it arrives, I have to wait. And waiting groundside has never been easy for me. Wish I had my portable CD player with me. I could at least listen to some music while I wait. Something to drowned out the babble of the voices closing in on me.

"Damn it." I mutter as I clench my jaws, hunching forward in the seat. After pulling my hat off and dropping it on the table, I ran my hands though my hair pulling it forward like a curtain across my face. Its easy to ignore the looks I get from people. I've had five years of practice. After a few deep breaths I straighten up, brush my hair back and finish the coffee. But I don't replace my hat.

As I scan the crowd again, I frown mentally. Uh-oh, here comes the new Hawk Commander. Great. Ten will get you twenty that she is going to be stopping here.

With that I snag my hat, slip it on and make sure my shades are in place. I look like I should be running with the Mob. I'm completely disreputable looking with my hair a tangled mess and wearing scruffy clothes.


Tingling at the back of my neck. Damn it. I'm not as psy-sensitive as Krysten is, but the tricks Starlight showed me I know well. 90% of any mental ability is careful observation, Angel. If something feels wrong, look around you. You'll probably be able to see it if you know what's right with the area first.

What's right with this area? Street corner, business people, shoppers, the coffee place. I'm near the governemnt complex. Bedlama City doesn?t have a 'wrong side of town,' but I'm definitly in an upscale neighborhood. The outdoor tables of the coffee shop draw my eye. People and eating, drinking, talking…all perfectly normal. Until I see her. Dishevaled hair, sloppy clothes, a hat and sunglasses. Someone's trying to hide. Luck be a Lady, I may have just found my pilot.

I wind my way through the crowd and drop into the chair across from her. It's not exactly polite, but then, I don't exactly care, either.

"I rather thought I would have seen you before now," I comment, accepting the glass of water the waiter offers me. No preliminaries, no introduction. She has to know who I am, and I'm not going to waste time confirming what my bones are telling me. Your head will lie, Starlight told me. It's too busy figuring out the angles. But your bones are elemental. They'll tell you the truth if you listen.

I'm listening now.


"I'm good at making myself scarce and unseen. Why do you think I'm known as Phantom." That's the first tidbit of info I offer her. I lift the cup and indicate that I wish another refill. I'm going to need it. "Oh, and please, join me." Sarcasm is a defense mechanism for me a lot of the time.

I have to be careful around this one, something about her reminds me of Lisa 'SilverMoon' RunningHorse. That woman can get anything she wants with the right words and a look or two. Then again she is the mother of eight and a Wiccan High Priestess on top of it all.

Leaning forward, propping my chin on my hand to stare at her from behind the dark glasses. My black leather Stetson creates a shadow over my face. A slight breeze causes my unbound gray-brown hair to ripple down my back.

"Fairies dance in a frenzied ring, Elves plays pipes and goblins sing. Robin Goodfellow will take his queen, once upon a midsummer night dream"* I say. No reason other then it felt right.

"Tell me Commander StarGazer, was the Price you paid worth it? Was all that you lost and gained worth the price of command?"


What a peculiar turn of phrase. Robin Goodfellow, Puck, servant of Oberon. Oberon, my beloved's brother. Does she know too much or is she guessing? Or is it only a chance phrase that popped into her mind? I'm tired of guessing games, at any rate.

The waiter brings her refill and I place my own order at the same time. Plain, black coffee. No sugar, cream, foam, steamed milk; nothing to adulterate the bitter taste. I prefer it that way, to keep my attention on the present. No drifting off permitted here.

"Thank you," I reply. It was a very nice invitation, even if I didn't ask for it. If she wants to play polite, I can as well. "I'm really not here to discuss myself, though. I need to ask you a few questions about your business as a...private courier?" Smuggler is the word I'd like to use, but I have no proof. There's no real indication beyond rumor that she's stepped outside the bounds, but I have to be firm. People respected my father, and they will extend that respect to me out of courtesy for a time, but sooner or later I'll have earn it for myself. Oh, Daddy, why me? 'If my daughter will consent to give up the remainder of her leave....' I wouldn't have stayed. I would have buried him and been gone. I think about it every day.

I blurt it out without thought. "It's an honor to serve."


I snort at her words about Honor, then lean back. The afternoon light glints from the necklace I am wearing today. It's a black (what else) leather choker collar with a miniature silver Dreamcatcher decorated with tiny silver feathers. But if one looked closer one could see the lines of a pentacle semi-imposed over it.

"By all means Commander, ask away." I say then take a sip from my coffee. "But I don't guarantee I'll answer the questions you ask of me. I do make sure my clients have their privacy." Whether or not the deserve it, I think to myself.

I keep my face expressionless so that I don't betray my growing unease at being groundside. This is part of the downside of being a courier. The waiting.

Correction. Dealing with crowds of people is the downside. When I make my runs I'm by myself up there in the darkness of space. Just me, my thoughts, my music and a bunch of stuff that doesn't make demands of you.

"And Please Commander StarGazer, I know you want so bad to call me a smuggler, might as well do so. I don't mind, nor do I care. It's all in how one views things." Smirking I sip from my cup again.


I don't think she believes me. I don't think I believe, either. It's been too many years since I was the green young officer fresh from the Academy, with unshakable belief in everything I learned there. Too many years, too many miles, too much love, and too much pain.

She's still for a moment, stiff between snarky little comments. Something made her uncomfortable, but until I know what it is, I can't take advantage of it. She had just mentioned her customers. Maybe something there? Maybe maybe. Maybe her toes are pinched for all I know. Maybe is fantasy. Deal in facts.

"I'm going to lay this out for you, Phantom, because I don't believe in wasting time. I have questions, and I need answers. What I don't want to do is dance around in some kind of conversation conga line. You're an intelligent person, and I'm sure you're very aware of a thing's value, be it animal, vegetable, mineral or ideal. So I'm willing to trade you, question for question, with honest answers. I can respect your desire for confidentiality, so the clients will be hypothetical." I picked up my recently delivered coffee and sipped from it. Pure heaven. Real beans beat chemical formulae hands down.

"And Phantom? I wouldn't call you a smuggler to your face. Not until I have evidence to back it up."


I can't help but let out a bark of laughter at her words. This one has guts, I like that and I tell her so. "You've got Guts, Lady Hawk. That's a quality I prefer in people. Someone that is willing to tell you the way things are whether or not you like it." I can't stand ones that hum and haw over things. It gets annoying. Maybe that's why I don't deal with YessMan unless I have to.

I'd say more but my com is beeping at me. I hold up a hand to indicate a pause in our talks. Pulling the ear piece/mic out of my pocket I put it on then answer.

"Heyla, Phantom Here….. Yes…. Right. Be there in a few… you know the drill." With that I disconnect and pocket the com again.

"Looks like the questions will have to wait. Unless you're dieing to watch me at work" With that I finish off my coffee in a few swallows and stand. Pulling my wallet out of my back pocket I toss a few bills on the table. Enough to cover my tab, her tab and a nice sized tip. I don't wait on her. She will either follow or not.

I head over to the parts warehouse. Once I get there I head to the Blue Goose and unlock it. Climbing into the cab I search though some disks. A moment later music is playing loud enough that it can be heard while I work. Climbing out again I head to the back and key the back hatch to open.

The Blue Goose is a custom Space Hauler designed to carry bulky or large amounts of items. It's a deep blue color with murals along both sides. On one side, a flight of geese across an evening sky. Thing is, the flight is in the Missing man formation. Below the flight is a single goose that's bloodied and tattered, looking up at the others in the sky. The other side is the same. And across the front is a single goose in flight with the moon behind it. Scars can bee seen across it's wings and body. In it's own way it's another clue to my past.

The music is Contemporary Native America, heavy on chanting, drums and flutes. It has a calming effect on me and helps me focus on what I'm doing.

All the crates are arranged to one side. I take the order manifest and page though it, glancing at each crate and mentally check it off. Now the fun part. I plan on opening each one and going though it. If something isn't to my liking it gets put to the side. The ones that pass my inspection gets put on the Blue Goose.


Make a girl an offer she can't refuse, why don't you? It's tempting, and though I know she'll be on her best behavior, her clients might not be so accommodating. It's obvious that if she does deliver to the Mob, this won't be the trip. But I may be able to get a peek at the cargo, and that could tell me a lot of things.

I make a quick call up to the station and fill Krysten in on my plans. Jonathan would object out of habit, and if I want to make this flight, I don't have time to argue.

Phantom is a couple of blocks ahead of me by the time I can follow her. Damn, these shoes were not made for following someone wearing something sensible on their feet.

The warehouse is alive with music, and Phantom has started pulling open the crates, I suppose to match the cargo to the manifest. There goes any possibility that she could be shipping contraband unawares. Damn. If there ever does turn out to be trouble, she'll know before we do. But will she tell us? I'm starting to have my doubts.

"All right," I say, stepping further into the dim interior. "I'm in."


"There's a spare set of cover-alls in the back, you might want to put them on before you do anything." I comment looking at her outfit. "It will be baggy more then likely on you, but that's as close as anything I've got currently." It's my spare pair I keep in the Goose.

I go back to my work. Before each crate is opened I inspect the seal. If it passes muster then I'll open it. If not it goes immediately to the 'Questionable' stack. I seem to have at least one in that stack and several in the 'Discard' Pile every trip I make.

After the first initial inspection I start the second stage of my work. Stepping back I pull off my jacket and toss it into the cab. Under the jacket I was wearing shoulder holsters with a matching pair of pistols and a sheath with a fair sized blade in it. I had the license to carry them too. I also tossed my glasses in on top of my coat then added my hat. All I had on was the black jeans, boots and a white T-shirt.

I walk back to the crates with a pen light in my mouth as I toss my hair up into a pony tail. Turning on the light I shined it across each seal, checking. Next I pull out my blade and gently run the edge along the seal. All the crates I've marked as OK have passed this stage. I plan on showing Lady Hawk the others. After breaking the seal with the blade I retrieve a crow-bar and pry the lid off. Now comes the tedious job of going though the crate and matching everything in it to the invoice.

I'm silent through it all. The only sounds is the music and what Lady Hawk makes.


Privacy is at a premium here, so I slip around to the other side of the plane to change. It is a touch on the loose side, and I find myself rooting around in my attaché for one of the scarves my mother sent back up when I returned. Some mothers have an obsession with collecting jewelry or shoes. With my mother, it's scarves. She must have hundreds, and pressed quite a few on my before I left. The result is that they seem to be everywhere, but this one comes in handy.

I manage to tie the waist somewhere near where it belongs, and that solves some of the problem with the legs, but I still end up turning the cuffs up at wrists and ankles. The effect is hardly smooth or chic, but it should keep me out of trouble.

Coming back around the side of the plane, I notice that Phantom has decided to sport an array of weaponry, and I feel like a peace activist at an NRA convention. The comparison may not be entirely apt, but still, I'm keenly aware that I am unarmed, lasers sacrificed along with the rest of my armor. I used to shoot in Montana; Harry found it entertaining, but it's been so long since I held a gun that I would probably miss the broad side of a barn.

"You know, there are seals on those crates for a reason. I don't know about your other customers, but I'd be awfully annoyed if cargo for the station showed up with tamper marks all over it."


I notice her glance at my weapons and half-shrug. " I have the License to carry, including concealed. As for the Seals, 1) I know I can trust any cargo that's being shipped up to that Nest of yours. 2) I skip Military contracts when and where possible. Too much Governmental red tape," Not to mention running across someone that knows who I am. "3) Unless I'm wrong on the rumors of the Grape vine, your not trying to ship contraband or black-market goods. 4) I hate to bust your bubble but we're all mortal in this place. That includes the Inspectors. There's at least one that will accept a bribe. And 5) I was instructed to open the crates and go though them. Some people are just to lazy to do it themselves." Ticking off the points on my fingers.

That was more then I normally speak when I'm working. I turn from her and walk over to stand next to the 'Discard' pile. I pat the crates. "These have already had the seals tampered with before I got them That tampering is quite evident. It might just be from them getting moved about but I'm not taking any chances." Next I move to the one lone crate that I have labeled 'Questionable' but I don't touch it. "I'm going with Gut Instincts with this one and saying it's been cleverly tampered with. I have an Idea how. But I'm going to let you have the fun of figuring it out. You get a learning experience if you succeed. If you don't figure it out, I'll teach you how to spot seals that have been tampered with by experts. Deal?"

Before I came to Limbo permanently, I told Kestrel what I was going to be doing. He took it upon himself to find me a retired Master Thief to teach me what to be on the look out for. That was the most grueling 6 months of training I ever had. Even over the Military training I took when I enlisted. And to this day I still have no clue as to who that Thief was. It's better that way.

I offer her the pen light and my blade to work with. Effectively arming her at the same time. The blade is over a foot long and in some cultures is considered a dagger. The handle is bone but the blade is made from the toughest metal in the universe and honed to a razor sharpness.


The knife is comfortable in my hand, though the blade is a little longer than I'm accustomed to. Or a little shorter. I spent more time learning sword technique than knife. I'm not quite sure what she thinks I'm going to do with it. If the tampering on this seal is that subtle, I'll ruin it by digging around with a blade. But it is a nice weapon. I resist the temptation to test the edge on my thumb. She wouldn't carry it if it wasn't sharp, and I'll look like an idiot if I bleed all over everything.

I set the knife down with a little regret and aim the pen light at the seal in question. I would give...well, something, to have a micro-scanner with me. Darned if I set foot of base without the contents of the Lab tucked in my briefcase. But I really didn't expect to need it for a friendly chat with the Governor.

I'm not really happy with the colors on this seal. They're close, but still, they feel off. And the impressed lettering doesn't seem right either. It's not something you'd notice from more than a couple of feet away, and most people will just be sure the seal is on the package, rather than study it this up close and personal. To be sure, I examine one of the seals that passed inspection, then come back to the problem one. I run a finger lightly across it, gauging the size of the print.

"I think it's a counterfeit seal," I say at last. "The signature could go either way; I'm not a forgery expert. But there are subtle differences between this one and the cleared pile. So either someone in charge up and changed seal details in the middle of a run, or it's been copied, not too badly, but without an original to work from. Where the substitution took place, I have no idea. And I could be a corrupt official, you know. I HAVE been out of touch for four years and unwilling to explain my whereabouts."


I cross my arms over my chest and smirk. "True. You could also be trying to blackmail me if you were. But something tells me different. This little something." I tap the chocker necklace I'm wearing. "I've been around someone that was touched by the Fae. Hellfires, I'll admit that I've been touched by them myself." With that I step closer to her and reach out to tap her, just once, on the forehead. "Just like yourself, whether or not you know or acknowledge it. But that's irrelevant right now."

I take back my blade and move to the crate. Crouching down in front of it I lay the blade against the seal. With care I shave the fake seal off and reveal the real damaged seal below it. I offer her the fake after sheathing the blade. "It's been handled too much to get any prints, but it will give you an idea of what your going to be after and what to watch out for."


Touched by the Fae. Another interesting turn of phrase, and one I'm not going to bother refuting. If she can feel it, I'd just look like an idiot arguing the point. Why am I finding so many opportunities today to look like an idiot? It's time-consuming, trying to avoid all of them.

The false seal is an interesting catch for the day. I have proof now that someone is trying to run a smuggling ring. And proof that Phantom is not in on the party. Well, I wasn't really interested in trying to arrest her, anyway. And finding out who planned on receiving this merchandise seems like a good use of time.

I reach down for my attaché to secure the seal and curse as my hair starts tumbling out of its pins. Standing, I knot it on the back of my head and tie another of my mother's omnipresent scarves around it. Yet another idiotic moment, and I don't think I can escape it. And it takes me a moment to realize that my expletive was one Starlight preferred to use when irritated with his father, something relating to the aformentioned father's rather frequent and varied sexual relationships. At best, it's crude. At worst, very telling about my background. All of Starlight's brothers, those I met, at any rate, seem to share the opinion. I may as well paste a sign to my head, though for the life of me, I'm not sure what to write on it. 'Watch This Space,' if nothing else.

"All right," I say, finally getting my belongings straightened. "So I'm not a bad guy. Are we going to get this show on the road at some point?"


I snicker at her choice of expletives. Interesting to say the least. "The manifest is near you, as I call out what's in the crate check it off and I'll load." I go and grab a palette jack.

I empty one crate at a time, scattering the contents in a neat and orderly fashion on the ground. After the crate is empty I put it on the jack and reload everything back into it. Might seem to be a lot of hassle and trouble, but it sure makes it easier to move heavy stuff around. I don't have to worry about unloading since there is another palette jack over on Fense that I use.

"Any choice of music? If you say country your going to be walking back from Fense, I warn you now. Can't stand that stuff.."

With the music going and a second person helping. I can get this done a lot faster. A thought comes to mind.

"Tell you what, I'm going to be willing to make you a deal. This job goes faster with two people. And I bet you want some inside info on just what is being smuggled." I say as I lean against a crate. "Have someone come down and help go though the stuff I transport. I can be sure you get advance warning of when I make a run. Just make sure it's not that apple polishing Golden Boy. I need someone that can keep a secret tightly lidded, on EVERYTHING."

I know I'm setting myself for a clash with the Mob, but hey, that's the price I'm willing to pay. Time to find out if she's willing to pay the price of silence. I've played this game before. Working for one side of a conflict and subtly sabotaging it, when in reality I'm in league with the other side. It's how I survived for so long.

"To sweeten the deal even more, you can even have your feathered birds harass me publicly. Even bust me for 'illegal goods' a time or dozen if need be to keep things out of the Mob's hands for a while. Better the Devil you know then the Devil you don't. I'd have offered the same deal to the Old Man." The term 'Old Man' is said with affection/respect.


"Anything loud is fine," I say in response to her music question. She's unpacking and checking the contents of each crate against the manifest I'm holding. It's certainly a thorough system, though I can't say much for the time factor.

What lamp did I rub, anyway, to produce this kind of djinni? I'm getting offers right and left that would turn the head of any law-officer. But am I supposed to play these sort of subtle machinations? She would have offered the deal to my father, and it sounds as though she respected him. More than anything, that makes up my mind. Daddy knew a good trade-off when he saw one, at least where work was concerned. Family wasn't really his strong point. It doesn't seem to be mine either.

I had no trouble relating the Golden Boy to Jonathan. He must have missed the lectures on Political Machinations and Give and Take at the Academy. Of course, we all did. You either learn it or you don't. Bluegrass is busy enough with pilot's duties, and I still don't communicate well enough with the Copper Kidd. My fault, mostly. Much as I like Emily, I just don't trust her this far, and Krysten is still too naïve in spite of everything to handle something this convoluted. What does it say about me that I'm going to do it? I'll have to assign SteelWill. I trust him to tell me the truth, and he has experience with handling informers. He might enjoy getting off the station occasionally, as well. We can all use breaks.

"Command would call me crazy, but I'm going to take you up on it. Do you know Sergeant William Hart, SteelWill? He's easy to work with, and I think you'll find his discretion more than adequate. I can arrange for him to be in on the busts as well, and keep Quicksilver off your back. He can be following up on the counterfeit seals if anyone needs an excuse."


"Built like a Linebacker and has a sister? The Teddy Bear, eh?" I scratch my chin a moment in thought. "He'll work. Probably has the muscle to back up anything he wants to do, I bet. As for Golden Boy," I chuckle, "well, I'd have a fun time going up against him. He needs to be taking down a peg or ten. He lives in a fantasy world of black and white."

Looking about, I see that all I'm taking this run is loaded. "Time to Go, Crazy Lady Hawk" I proceed in closing up the cargo hatch and running the lock down program. I'm the only one that can get in the back now. Unless someone has several hours, the tools and the know how to crack the codes that is.

Heading around to the cab I grab my jacket and hat, putting both on, climbing in and buckle up. Once Lady Hawk's in I crank the Blue Goose up. "Better buckle up. It's going to be a wild ride." Once the systems are all in the green I reach down and grab a CD case. Flipping tough it till I find something loud, hard and fast, then loading it in the player. Once I reach the straight away to the space ramp I'll turn it on.

I check the traffic reports, and my radar to be sure everything's clear for the ride as I hit the space Ramp lane, then hit play. Motley Crew comes to life, blaring from the speakers. It's Loud, hard and fast. I can feel the thrum of the engines as we take the incline. With a practiced touch I hit the boosters.

The sky changes from earth bound blue to that of space in moments. One hand on the controls, with the other I reach up and pull the old fashioned cord that hangs above my head. The horn sounds deep and powerful. I'm reminded of the Truckers back on Earth and I can't help but chuckle.


I have to fight not to break into a fit of laughter at the sound of the horn. It's so completely unexpected. The Bedlamians like to run a peaceful planet, so most of their alert noises are more musical. This sound is brassy and bold, and comfortingly familiar. I certainly heard enough truck horns on Earth between Montana, Colorado and California. "Sounds like home," I comment.

I can't let her comments about Quicksilver go without mention, though. "Listen, I don't want you to have the wrong idea about Lieutenant Greyer. He's a model officer for the most part. He's just not blessed with an over-abundance of flexibility. He still sincerely believes that right is right, and everyone should willingly and actively work towards it. He's at his best with a clear goal and a 10-step plan to achieve it. And his plans usually work out, fortunately for me.

"And Will may look like a teddy bear, but the steel isn't just external. He has a breaking point, and heaven help you if you find it. Set him off, and you're likely to get his sister in the bargain. Emily's sharp, and her boundaries aren't nearly as set as Will's. She'll do whatever is in her best interests or Will's as she sees it, and Devil take the rest.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that none of my people are toys, or easily packed into one category or another. And if you burn us on this, we'll put all our little idiosyncrasies aside and come after you til Hell won't have it.

"Just so you know."


"He sounds too much like someone I knew from years back. We clashed too many times to mention." It's what got me transferred to the Wild Hunt Squadron. Those Combat Pilots were kindred souls and I felt I belonged. "As for Will, Have you ever been around a live bear? They are indeed cute and cuddly. But just don't tick them off cause they got the muscle, claws and fangs to back up their anger. That's why I call him the Teddy Bear."

I glance at the systems read out then at the radar every so often and adjust accordingly. Sometimes I wish I had it set up so that I could use my flight helmet. Save me from a lot of looking around. But then I'd miss a lot of things.

"Siblings can be very protective of each other. Especially the eldest of the group. I've learned that from experience, so I'll keep it in mind with that pair. I may kid around and call them by other then what they go by, but I never toy with people. Insult them, harass them, tease them and just plain annoy them, that's what I do it all the time though. Keeps them on their toes."

I get a beep on the Radar and glance up in the direction indicated. Pointing in the same direction as I look. "Looks likes One of your Birds out on patrol unless I miss my guess." I'm also making sure I'm doing the locally imposed limit for civilians in this sector. I still have about fifteen or twenty minutes before the Light-Year Limit is reached.

As I get within distance I blow the horn again. Just to let them know I'm here, but I bet that they've had me on radar or what ever surveillance systems they've got, for longer then I've had them on mine. Depends on who the pilot is as to whether or not they change course to travel parallel with me for a few before breaking off and continuing on their patrol.


I'm reminded of a poem.

"'When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear, in his pride
He will shout to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rips the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.'

"It's Kipling," I tell her. "He knew a thing or two about bears. And people too, I expect."

The ship she's pointed out is the Sprint Hawk, and lately it's been almost exclusively Jonathan flying those patrols. I'm of a mind to let Phantom manage any contact unless some kind of intervention becomes necessary. I want to know what she'll do, and I did make an effort to conceal my intentions from Quicksilver. Waving a big flag labled 'Here I Am' seems counter-productive. At least until it’s necessary. Necessity seems to be my new best friend, right up there with idiocy.


"Sounds like it should be a song." I comment before the Sprint Hawk pulls along side. I just turn my head and smile at Quicksilver. I lift my hand and wave at him. It looks like I'm giving him the peace sign, but it's the English version of shooting someone the bird. I wonder if he realizes it. I wonder if Lady Hawk realizes it either.

Dropping my hand back down to the controls I ease off the speed just a tad. "You know, I don't need to make a fool of that one. He manages to somehow do that on his own." I'm looking straight forward as I speak. No need to let him know I have a rider with me. I glanced at the radar again and chuckled. "and if he doesn't stop glaring at me and pay attention to where he's going, he'll end up re-decoration both that ship and Seymour's Cab.

Oh what they heck, I'll take pity on Seymour. I key the com and punch in Seymour's Number. "Hey, Cabbie, you'd better duck, dive, swerve or climb, unless you want to be hawk food." Then I disconnect and blow the horn a third time.


Jonathan's flying is leaving a lot to be desired today. Too bad I'm not officially 'here.' He'll be paying more attention on his next flight evaluation. Maybe I can enlist Phantom to make it a real test of his abilities. Have to think about that one.

Seymour takes the friendly advice as his cab shakes and puffs in a burst of speed surrounded by a trademark cloud of noxious fumes. Oh, damn. His little display has gotten Jonathan's attention, and I can see the SprintHawk's lights come to life. He?s only picking on Seymour because he has some imagined beef with Phantom and she's being careful not to escalate it. I'm going to have to get into this.

"Hand me the radio, please?" She offered me the mike with an expectant look. Damn right I'm straightening this out. Seymour's not the brightest star in the constellation, but he doesn't deserve to be the whipping boy, either.

I take a deep breath and key the mike. "Let him go, Lieutenant," I say without preamble.

He's already gotten out of the ship and whips around so fast that I feel I should get whiplash. "Aurora? What...where-?"

My mood is not improving. "Right behind you in the big blue ship, watching you nearly turn Seymour into space dust, along with yourself and quite possibly us. Let him go," I repeat. I wonder idly how many times I'm going to have to say it."

"But you... but he... the Governor...."

He's certainly having trouble with coherent thoughts today. Fine. "Seymour, this is Commander Stargazer. You're free to go. Our apologies. And next time you're near the station, have the twins look at your exhaust system. You're trying to poison the galaxy again."

There's a moment of stunned silence before his "Gee, thanks, Commander," and the cab bumbles off into the darkness.

Quicksilver has finally recovered his powers of speech. "Aurora, I really have to protest. That little maneuver of his was dangerous and stupid. Someone could have been killed. And what are you doing up here? You had a meeting with Governor Phen'Toh on Bedlama about the courier, and unless you've lost you mind-"

"Lieutenant," I try to break in. "Lieutenant. Lieutenant! LIEUTENANT!" Finally, I have his attention. "I will discuss what you need to know with you later. Right now, I would appreciate it if you kept a closer eye on where you’re going."

"But Aurora-"

Okay. That is it. I'm done being nice about this. "Jonathan, shut the hell up and continue your patrol. I will speak to you LATER! Stargazer OUT!" I switch the mike off and jab it back into place.

Phantom seems to find this all rather amusing. "He forgets who's in charge sometimes," I say defensively. "I just have to remind him. It's my name on the door, not his."


What starts out as a snicker turns to out right laughter after a few minutes. "Goddess that was absolutely priceless! Does he always call you by your first name? Last I heard that was not considered kosher in the service." Oh what bit of Blackmail this would be if I was truly unethical. But I'll keep it to myself. It will make great ammo against Golden Boy if I face off against him and need something to cause a ruckus to draw attention from others. "What branch is he from anyways?" I've got my Captain's rank, so depending on what branch he's from I'll either be of equal or higher rank. But I'm not going to tell Aurora that. She'll have to find out about my Military background on her own.

Since we're so close to the Light-Year Limit I sober up and slow down. The Goose is not as maneuverable as the HummingBird. I always take the Limit with care in the Goose. And while there are some very good technicians here in Limbo, I still don't want to need their services.

Once we reach the other side Fense is within site off in the distance. And since there is no Law on this side I take the rest of the trip at my normal break neck speed. Only when Fense is looking before us do I slow down. Finding the right warehouse is easy. I park the Goose and shut down all systems then run a lockout program. "Well Time to go. Someone will be by shortly to unload. And I'll get my pay then." I snort. It's a game. I keep certain items from arriving and they pay me partly in counterfeit money. With that I climb out of the cab and wait for her to join me. Might as well introduce her to Harry's coffee in the mean time.


"What, I come all this way and I'm not even going to get to see who wants a crate with a counterfeit seal on it? That's harsh." But I'm smiling. It's good to hear someone laugh and not worry if it will come back later to bite me.

"Have you ever lived with 5 or 6 other people for a long period of time? You get past 'sir' and 'ma'am' pretty quickly. Anyway, Will and Emily are siblings. Pretty dumb for them to resort to callsigns all the time. Krys and Mike are married, and frankly, I've heard one too many 'Colonel Sugar-Pie's' for my own sanity. And my father only called me Lieutenant Stargazer when he was mad at me. Of course, I usually called him Commander when I was mad. So everyone is more or less on a first name basis. It's the arguing I mind." I chuckle. "He's Navy, the same as my father. The same as me." I neglect to mention our convoluted history. That is so not her business.

I don't spend a lot of time on Fense normally. And I'm likely to get offers to remove my head once we're inside. I've probably been in on busts for most of the characters out here. I don't know what upsets them so much. If they'd stay out of Limbo, I'd stay out of their hair.


"Yep, A long time ago, there was 10 of us." At her mention of the married pair using baby names with each other, I stick my finger in my mouth and made a gagging sound. "Anyone OD yet from all the sugar?" I pause at the doors to the Dinner and open my coat, purposely unsnapping the holsters and losing the pistols. Then I shove the doors open and pause there so everyone can get a good look at who is coming in. I also purposely block the view of Aurora behind me.

"See the empty table in the far corner by the window? Grab it and I'll get the drinks. Be sure to put your back to the wall." Stepping inside as I spoke. I use a tone of voice that is smoky rough and whisky smooth. I also have the aura of 'I'm dangerous so don't fuck with me' wrapped about me. I'm easily a match for any of the jokers that's hanging out here at the diner at the moment.

I wait till she heads to the table I indicated before I move away from the door. I get a few nasty stares but I ignore them. Only the stupid ones will try something today. Everyone else knows what I do and doesn't want to chance me blacklisting them.

"Afternoon Harry. My usual plus one extra, Black as Mon*Star's heart." I say.

"Sure thing Phantom" Harry warbles before moving away to take care of my order.

Turning I survey the room. A card game is going at one table. Everyone else seems to find a place to look except at me or Aurora. Good everyone is behaving themselves.

Harry returns with the cups of coffee and I pull out some cash. "For the tab and the drinks Harry." I take the cups and head over to the table. I take the seat that puts my back to the dinner occupants. Setting the cups down I slide hers over to her and sip my own. It's better then ambrosia in my opinion.

"If you look out the window you can see the Goose and who's unloading it."


I sip my coffee and direct a faux-casual glance out the window. Flunkies. Why is it always flunkies that actually get their hands dirty? Because the criminals aren't dumb, I guess. That's why the good guys have to be smarter. I'll feed descriptions into the computer back at the station. Maybe I can turn up a "known associate of." But it occurs to me then that even if there is a big fish in this particular food chain, I'm not going to get him. Everything questionable probably happens out here where I can't even trip them on the way out the door. The sense of futility sinks in.

"Damn, this is pointless. That crew's boss is probably out of my jurisdiction. You're squeaky clean, or close enough, and running a legitimate business. I'm up to my eyebrows in the stinky stuff and sinking fast. I don't really know how to do this job, and what's more, I don't really want to do it. I could be teaching my daughter to read and instead I'm here chasing petty crooks in a temperance time-warp.

"You asked what I gave up? That's it. My daughter is growing up without me. And then there's her father, who is probably too noble for his own good."


Leaning back I pull out of my inner pocket a small black package, then open it up. It's cigarettes. Something I rarely indulge in anymore. Pulling one of the slender black cigarettes out and lighting it up. After taking a deep drag I exhale upwards. The smoke is a pale bluish-gray and has a sweet, spicy aroma.

I watch Aurora with partially closed eyes. "Think about it this way. You may be paying it, but at any time you can take what you put in to it. Granted there will be some missing, but you do get something back." I say as I point a finger in her direction then take another drag.

"The Difference between us is this. You can go back to what was. I can't. I turned my back on everything that was my past. You've lost a husband and a Daughter to this job, but you can quite and return to them." I take a sip of my coffee and pause, letting what I am saying sink in.

"I lost everything I had. I've cut all ties, blockaded all the bridges. My Squad mates are all dead. I have no way to continue my bloodline. I have no family left. Granted I have friends back on Earth that care for me. But I can't stand being Dirt side for any length of time. So I only visit for a few days every so many years. That's the price I've paid and you know what? I'll do it again in a heartbeat. I'd rather be labeled a coward and run, then try and face the nightmares of my life. 'The brave dies only one death, while the coward dies a thousand times' Or how ever it goes. But I'm sure you get my point."

I think tonight when I get home, I'm going to pull out my stash and get rip-roaring drunk. Might even take a few hits on the pipe to really compound things. Drunk and high as a kite on peyote. It's not a pretty sight. Glad I live alone. No one can hear me scream myself horse. At least I'm not suicidal anymore. That damned Healer put so many mental locks on that compulsion, that I don't think I'll ever do it again.

I glance out the window. "Well the Goose is unloaded and ready for the trip back. Need me to drop you off anywhere?"


I wonder for a moment if this has been the point of the whole thing; for her to be able to say oh, poor you; my life has been so much worse. Somehow I don't think so. It leads me to think of the other things I've lost, though; my sister, who has nothing to do with this life I lead now, the strained relationship with my mother, which is almost entirely my fault, twenty years spent away from my father. That was his price, but I paid it too, along with my mother and sister. And I've said nothing about Steven; wonderful funny romantic Steven. I only wish Adryanna could have been his daughter, but it wracks me with guilt. I love her father for who he is, not some lost dream.

"You can drop me at the station, if it's not too big a hassle." My lips twitch in wry humor. "It's not like I should stay here too long. My popularity quotient has no pull out here." I stand to leave. "But thanks for the coffee. And for what it might or might not be worth, her father is the Fae you mentioned."


I nod my head at her comments. Stubbing out the cigarette then stand. "Yep, time to go." I finish off the coffee and wave to Harry on the way out. My payment is in an envelope and stuck in the door. I unlock the Cab and motion for her to get on in while I thumb though the money. I'll check it later when I get home.

For the return trip I put in Led Zeplin. Kashmir being my favorite of their songs. I don't say anything either.

Once I reach Hawk Haven, I land smoothly and let her out. I can see the Sprint Hawk is back. Bet there's going to be one hell of a discussion between the pair. "Hey Lady Hawk, for what it might or might not be worth," I say before she closes the Door. "I'm a Retired Captain. Air Force." She has one eyebrow raised at my remark. With that I key the door to close and lock.

Turning the Blue Goose around I stop a moment and open my door so I can stick my head out. "Hey, Commander StarGazer." I yell back to her. Several of the others are gathering around her. "Take my advice. Pack your bags and go home. You don't belong here." Then I close the door and head out. I'm sure to the others it sounds like a threat. Let them think that. She knows what I mean and that's all that counts at the moment. And then I'm gone.


Home sweet asteroid. And I have reports to deal with, complex projects that the Twins want approval for, and Jonathan is giving me the stink-eye. I think there's a conversation due there, about my ability to think for myself.

I wave them all off and head for my quarters. I had neglected to change clothes at Fense, so I'll have to make sure these coveralls get back to Phantom later.

First things first, though. I change into uniform to go back to the office. I have a case of bad shipping seals to start investigating, but it might have to wait. There's an inspection next week, the first since I took comand, and I'm fairly close to a nervous wreck. Something is coming, but I can't put my finger on it yet. Things out here are going to change, though. Of that, I have no doubt.