Phantom: Heyyyyyyyy...

Muse: go home, you're drunk.

Phantom: don't *hickup* wanna, look at all the pretty people.

Muse: just stay where i can see you.

Phantom: Hi pretty lady *hickup*

Muse: if you call me tomorrow and ask for a ride I'm not going to help you.

Phantom: don't be such a downer.

Muse: right since Phantoms out of his senses, Merry Christmas, and happy new year. I know it's been a long time. like a really long time. but this story is not dead, I just haven't been at my best for writing. in fact there was a four month period where I did't even think about this story.

Phantom: I didn't know what to write.

Muse: what he said. anyway Happy Holidays.

Chapter 28

Krystal lay on her stomach feeling the cool metal through her suit. The vents weren't the cleanest, and they were small enough that even she was almost squeezing through, but she knew that just walking down the halls was nothing but asking for trouble. She had familiarized herself with the layout of the vents through schematics she had chanced upon while datamining in the central database. The ship was a chop shop vessel through and through. Made out of the hulls and pieces of whatever dead space debris they found, and some they had created on their journey. Looking out a vent she could see a small room. A few people sat in chairs, the room was well furnished giving the impression of a quiet room of some kind. Though even here the ever present humming and odd noises associated with space travel were ever present. She counted six in all, the most unobtrusive being a rather homely looking female Savanah cat, in her mid-twenties. Her golden eyes steadily glided across the words in the small book she held in her right hand, legs crossed, right elbow cradled by her left hand. She wore dark jeans that hugged her form, and a loose short sleeve red top. Also in the room were four males and one other female. The males consisted of a Main coon with a nasty scar above his left eye. A Doberman, sitting across from a Rottweiler as the two played cards quietly in a corner. And lastly a white eyed Siberian husky, sitting in a corner chair with his arm around the only other girl, a border collie with bluish black fur, and white neck fur. The two playing cards where the closest and they chatted quietly as they played, "any word yet when we're moving on?" asked the Doberman, shuffling the deck to start a new game.

"Nothing," replied the Rottweiler as the Doberman dealt cards out, "they're taking their damn time in this system." Placing the remaining cards on the table the Doberman picked up his and glanced over them.

"They're waiting for a ship from one of the planets, supposed to take on cargo and a VIP." Grumbled the Rottweiler.

"What's so important about this somebody?" asked the Doberman. Glancing over his cards he picked out two and set them on the table face down then took two from the deck. Glancing at them he scratched his jaw.

"Here say says," the Rottweiler leaned in, Krystal strained her ears to hear, "that it's a Lord from Kew. Big business and such."

"Big business means, big secrets… and big money." The Doberman said. Feeling she had heard enough she continued her way through the vents.

It had taken around twenty minutes to navigate to her exit. Looking through the ceiling vent Krystal eyed the hangar where her ship was. Pulling the vent cover up and away from the opening she slid her legs through first letting herself hang for a second before she dropped. The hangar was quite tall so Krystal aimed for a scaffolding tower placed under the vent to work on ships. She landed as quietly as she could flattening herself against the top looking around to see if she had been noticed. For the moment it seemed she had escaped notice. Scanning the hangar she saw a few techs moving around, seven or so worked their way around the ships checking this and that. Spotting her ship she planned her path down. It was quick enough to get to the ground and after sliding down the scaffold structure and swinging off a cross support pole she landed deftly on the floor. Being careful not to draw attention she straightened and walked slowly but with purpose. She moved around the other ships towards her own in a casual but purposeful gait, essentially presenting herself as just another mercenary who didn't want to talk to anybody. She passed a couple of the Technicians as they went about their own business, avoiding any unnecessary contact. Her ship was somewhat tucked into a corner, making it rather unobtrusive admits the myriad of other ships. She slowed her steps as she approached eyeing the vessel and walking around it in a routine manner. The minor scuffs that she hadn't bothered to get repaired stood out a little on the Wolfen's darker design, but it still ran so she kept it.

Krystal was just about to climb into the cockpit when a voice behind her said, "good evening," in a sickeningly smooth voice. Krystal turned her head and eyed the Panther, his golden eyes shone in the dim light of the hangar. "Off for a flight?" he asked, moving closer.

"Piss off." Krystal barked quietly, moving her right leg into the cockpit.

"Just a moment, darling." The panther purred. Krystal leapt down from her ship, grabbed his shirt collar and pulled his face close to hers, eyes burning.

"Call me that again and I'll rip your dick off." she growled. Before she could push him away he grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. As his hands explored her back and ass, his tongue slide inside her mouth. Her shocked only lasted a few seconds before she bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He jerked back in pain, Krystal grabbed his shirt again and pulled him back towards her, bringing her right arm up she smashed his face with and elbow. There was a splatter of blood as his nose broke, his cry of pain was interrupted when Krystal jabbed his throat. The startled gasp that escaped was a wheezing cough. Grabbing his arm she slammed his back into her ship's hull. Reaching under his armpit she grabbed his head hair and pulled it back behind him. He was about to yell but a prick on his groin halted it in his throat. "If you scream I'm going to drive this knife through your dick and rip it down between your balls."

"Fucking Christ…" he breathed, "it was just a kiss and feel! what's the big dea," he gasped again as Krystal put some pressure on the knife she held between his legs. "Fuck!" he hissed.

"What's the deal!? Here's the deal, people like you disgust me!" she growled into his ear pulling back harder on his hair.

"You fucking Vixen bitch!" he spat. Krystal gripped the knife, thrusting it into the air she brought the pommel down hard on his thigh. His held in scream gave Krystal a very happy feeling. "Ah-gah," the Panther growled holding in his pain. Krystal placed the knife back against his groin.

"Now then," she purred briefly rubbing her cheek against his, "do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," the panther said through gritted teeth.

"Good, that's good." Krystal said, releasing his hair she backed away, withdrawing the knife. "I hope you learned something today." The panther slid down the hull to the floor, taking gasps of air. Krystal still needed to get a message to Bill but she dared not try after what had just happened. Turning she walked away. She hadn't been caught yet, but she was certain that after this she would attract more attention.

X

Fox had found the on base bar and was busy thinking. He hadn't even touched the glass of whiskey he had ordered to keep the bartender happy. It was difficult to fit all the pieces together, there had to be something missing he wasn't seeing. "Hey?" Fox looked down from his tilted back seat. Seeing the Boxer bartender scowling at him.

"You say something?" Fox asked, coming back to a normal seated position.

"Yeah," the Boxer spat, "you going to drink or just take up space?"

Fox eyed the Boxer for a moment, noticing the hitch in his leg from an old injury, "I'm going to do as I please," Fox said leaning back again, "I'll pay you to shut the hell up and leave me alone if it makes you feel better." The Boxer growled at him, fox lowered his gaze again. It wasn't the place for a throw down but Fox was itching and in the mood… at least he was until Bill sat down next to him.

"You going to drink that?" Bill asked.

"Have at it." Fox said leaning back again. Bill threw it back in one go, wheezing a little as it burned down.

"Holy hell, what did you order." Bill asked.

"Motor oil." Fox said.

"You going to get something?" the Boxer asked.

"Fuck off prick or I'll decorate the bar top with your teeth." Fox said coldly. Either sensing a change in atmosphere or just tired of Fox's shit the bartender left them alone. Once he was gone Fox asked "so…"

"What are you thinking?" Bill asked.

"Probably something stupid." Fox said, staring at the ceiling.

"Something dangerous." Bill grunted.

"Absolutely reckless." Fox said, hiding his smirk.

"Downright crazy." Bill said, grinning.

"Completely insane." Fox said, Barely holding in his laughter. Tilting his head to the side Fox could see Bill's grin. Fox chuckled, "I'm canceling our contract."

"What?" Bill said, confused.

"You're on your own." Fox said, righting himself he stood. "I'm going to do my own thing."

"What about the Mission?" Bill asked, rising out of his seat. Fox stretched as he stood before turning to face Bill again.

"You have your mission Detective," Fox said, "I've got mine." With that Fox left the Bar and Bill standing alone.

X

12 hours later

The ship was quiet as usual, as it had been since they had stopped at their current position, "hey Dirk," a greyhound said. The Beagle turned in his chair, to see who had called him.

"Yake." He said in greeting.

"Anything new?" Yake asked, Dirk shrugged.

"Nothing of note," he said, "Though this far out I doubt we'll get any traffic."

"That why you're the only one here?" Just as he finished speaking the deep space radar bleeped at them. Sitting up in his seat Dirk peered at the display. Yake walked to him and peered over his shoulder.

"What was it?" he asked. The beagle shook his head.

"Space debris probably," Yake said, pressing a few buttons. The two waited for almost two minutes before there was another contact. Like last time it chimed.

"It's closer than before." Yake said.

"An asteroid?" Dirk thought out loud.

"I'll go get Fitz." Yake said before leaving the room. Dirk messed with the controls trying to get radar contact, it was still fairly distant from them. It wasn't until Dirk grabbed the headset hanging on the hook and slipped it over his ears that he heard it.

A roving tone. A constant signal put out by wanders, often smaller vessels looking to attach themselves to larger vessels. Most commonly utilized by freelance mercenaries who were looking to move out of an area for one reason or another, just then Yake came back followed a rather sour looking Hyena with a veiny scar across his left cheek. "What the hell did you pull me out of bed for this time?"

"Unknown contact, I just picked up its roving tone."

"So it's a ship?" Fitz asked.

"More than likely, a very, very small ship, scout class, maybe fighter." Dirk said.

"What makes you think it's so small?" Fitz question, a scowl on his face stretching the scar.

"We only pick it up in spurts." Dirk replied turning back to the radar. "It's still too far away to do any definitive scans."

"Let's watch for a while." Fitz said taking a seat.

X

Fox was a little chilled in the cockpit of his fighter. The black and red cloud runner hummed quietly in dead space, along with the constant vibrations Fox felt through the seat. He had left the planet Kew almost twelve hours ago. Now he simply had to hope he wandered close enough. Fox had a vague idea of what to say to be let aboard the ship, being a mercenary added a bit of truth to what he would say. He was looking to get out of the system after a job had been FUBAR, and now the heat was coming down. As it was that wasn't a total lie which made it easier to tell. Feeling like it would take some time Fox adjusted himself inside the cockpit and settled in for a nap with the ship set to drift for a certain time.

X

Dirk stared at the screen blinking occasionally, Fitz was in a foul mood like always as he waited to hear anything new. So far they had watched patiently for almost forty minutes to see if it would change course. They had seen only slight changes in trajectory likely utilizing fins to keep noise to a minimum. It was steadily approaching the starboard side of the ship heading towards the aft. If it continued on its current course it would reach them in the next two hours. With such a slow pace Dirk suspected it was drifting. "Well?" Dirk asked no one in particular. Fitz shifted finally, leaning forward and placing his chin on his clasped hands.

"Call them." Fitz said.

"What?" Yake asked, "Just like that."

"They've waited this long, they must know someone's out here."

"And then what?" Dirk asked. "We don't know what they're objective is."

"It's probably the same reason you're on this ship." Dirk grunted at Fitz's comment.

"It's not like we can't blast them to space dust if this doesn't go well." Yake added. Dirk exchanged a glance with Fitz then shrugged, Fitz nodded.

X

Fox was about half asleep in his cockpit. It had been a rough four years that had found him here, and with the struggle had come a set of skills he employed liberally, one of which was the ability to sleep anywhere while remaining partially aware. So when his receiver beeped at him he was fully alert in seconds. Flipping the switch he asked, "Who calls?"

"State your business, or turn away from your current trajectory." Said a youthful male voice.

"I need passage," Fox said, "now who calls?"

"Who we are is not important," said a raspier older voice, "why should we help you?"

"I didn't ask for charity, scumbag," Fox growled, "I said I need passage, a ride out of this shit hole of a system."

"Why?" asked the older voice.

"Listen," Fox said, "I did a lot of different jobs for a lot of different people on both ends of the scale, now I want out of here, I'll pay my way, I might have hit a bump but that's what padding is for."

X

Fitz was twirling his thumbs as he thought about what to do. He had no reason to send him away, especially if he was willing to pay them. But something in his gut told him it would be a mistake.

"Well?" Dirk asked, turning in his chair to look at Fitz.

"Are we letting him on?" Yake asked.

"I can't say I want to but," Fitz said.

"But what?" Yake asked, staring at Fitz. Fitz looked at the two of them and sighed.

"I can't think of a reason not to."

X

The pause finally ended when the younger voice came over the radio, "you are cleared for docking, Hangar seven, port side. A supervisor will meet you when you land."

"Thank you." Fox said as he brought the engine back to life, turning his fighter towards the beacon being broadcast.

X

Krystal had fled quickly after the scuffle with the panther in the hangar. Moving as quickly as she could without looking like she was running from a crime scene. She still needed to contact Bill, but that would have to wait. Instead she head towards the cargo bays, she had done very little in the area of physical evidence and pictures would be perfect if she could find illegal goods. After she had gained sufficient distance from the hangar she slowed her pace into a purposeful walk. Passing many different people and to her surprise a number of reptilians, the only other one she had met was Leon from star wolf, she had despised the Lacertilian, he was sick and twisted, delighting in giving pain, toying with targets before killing them. She wondered if it was a trait shared by all of his race, but she was fairly certain that it was only his twisted self. Besides them Krystal was surprised to see a number of Suidae, the first time she had heard Fox talk of Pigma Dengar there was a level of hatred Fox didn't even use when he talked about wolf, and she soon found out why. Aside from those two species the ship was populated by many others of kinds she was familiar with. But every so often she would catch sight of odd individuals, who despite her general acceptant nature of different people could only be described as 'alien'.

If she was worried about getting caught before, her fears where dispelled as soon as she slipped into the cargo area. It was massive and seemed completely deserted except for one or two people she could see moving above her in the walk ways. She started moving casually through the maze of containers like she was inspecting them, since anyone who saw her would wonder what she was doing it would be easy if she looked like she was supposed to be there. Oddly enough a few of the containers she passed where dated between six and ten years ago. Things that had been forgotten in the void of space would obviously be picked up by pirates, though it was odd to see these few old containers mingled with all of the new cargo, suggesting that they had been juggled around the cargo bay for some time. Her luck was running strong, after walking around for nearly twenty minutes she heard voices ahead.

"Hurry the fuck up!" said a hushed squeaky voice. Krystal crept to the corner where the voices emanated from.

"You try and cut these chains with a rusty pair of bolt cutters then." The second voice was a baritone range with a wheeze. Peeking around the corner she spied a weasel and a beagle standing in front of a container. The beagle was busy trying to cut the chains securing the container latch, but began coughing with the exertion. She waited, seeing what they were trying to get at. It took him nearly ten minutes to cut the chains, when the chain finally broke the two of them scrambled to open the doors. Whatever was inside meant something to these two, and Krystal was tired of listening to the weasel's sniffling. When the doors opened the weasel dove inside grabbing what looked like a plastic brick he pulled out a knife cut it open and dug the blade in sideways. It was plainly obvious that the weasel was a cocaine addict. But she had yet to discern what the beagle's poison of choice was. The beagle shifted as the weasel snorted the fine white powder off his knife. There was a very satisfied sigh as the weasel let out a breath.

"Fuck that's some good shit." The weasel crowed quietly.

"Fucking yay, now give me the stuff you promised." The beagle growled, causing the weasel to step back.

"easy there, friend." The weasel said trying to cool the Beagle's agitation, "it's here, I swear, in the back of the container." He said pointing into the dark back of the steel crate. Giving a humph the beagle stepped into the container. After he had entered the weasel looked around quickly then followed the beagle into the container. There was just enough light that Krystal could see the glint off the blade, not that she wouldn't have known what had happed as the beagle gave a gargled cry when his throat was cut. Still the sound of struggling suggested that either the weasel was very sadistic or the beagle still had the strength to put up a good fight. Even so the weasel was merciless with his knife, every glint of metal made Krystal feel like she could hear the blade cutting through cloth, hair and flesh. It felt like minutes as she waited but in truth it was a mere thirty seconds. The weasel emerged, a smattering of blood on his left sleeve and on his jeans, carrying three bricks of cocaine. Krystal waited, when he turned to close the doors she moved behind him, swiftly cutting his legs out from under him.

With a cry the weasel fell to the ground, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" she screamed at him.

"I was checking the cargo." The weasel wheezed, breath knocked from his lungs. Krystal sneered at him as he lay on his back. Leaning over she picked up one of the bricks he had dropped.

"Checking?" she mused, turning the package over in her hands she saw the hole in the plastic, "or sampling?" glaring at the weasel who shrugged with a forced chucked. She kicked him then. Her boot made solid contact with his jaw, enough to turn him over on his stomach. The weasel groaned, moving his jaw and, Krystal suspected his tongue. A guess that proved true when he spit out a tooth. Propping himself up on his elbows the weasel picked up the tooth and examined it. A moment later he spat again and another tooth fell onto the cold metal floor with a clack.

"Oh, you bitch," the weasel groaned, picking up the second tooth which gleamed in the dull light, "that was my gold tooth." She kicked him in the side and he rolled over wheezing and coughing, "…Bitch…"

"Call me a bitch all you want," Krystal said, kicking him again, "but you're going to be my bitch in a minute." The weasel now holding his side and wheezing painfully. Krystal waited a few seconds before she squatted down. Drawing her pistol she jabbed it into the side of his face.

"Go on," the weasel hissed, "do me a fucking favor cunt." Krystal swung the pistol in a ridge hand strike across his head. As soon as it struck the skin split open on the weasel's head and began bleeding profusely.

"Do you have any idea how much this is worth?" Krystal asked, watching the blood soak his fur then drip from his head.

"What's in your hand is probably worth 30,000 credits."

"And you had three of these," she said hefting the parcel, "that's a good deal of prophet you were fixing to slink away with." The weasel chuckled.

"That's pocket change for this lot," he said before succumbing to a coughing fit, "they wouldn't even notice it was gone."

"Think they'll notice another corpse in that crate?" Krystal asked pointing her pistol at him. The weasel laughed giddily.

"Do it sweet thing, I should have been a dead man years ago, being taken out by you would be a highlight."

"You're a twisted piece of work aren't you?" Krystal said, pulling the gun back, and pointing it at the ceiling.

"You wouldn't be here if you weren't at least close to the same." The weasel said, "Come on, don't keep me waiting crank a few rounds into my skull you didn't have any problems laying into me." Krystal stood stock still as the weasel waited for her to do something. He jumped a little when the brick of cocaine landed next to him, he looked at her before coming into a kneeling position. "What gives?"

"I don't feel like it anymore." Krystal said, turning around and strutting away.

X

Fox guided his fighter along the projected path into the hangar, seeing it up close he realized just how massive the ship really was. As he approached he could see clearly where pieces of different ships began and ended. If he wasn't preparing to put on his mask he would have marveled at the sheer number of vessels that composed this Frankenstein of a behemoth. His mind moved back to what he was doing as the hangar loomed in front of him. The door was big enough Fox bet he could fit the smaller frigate class ships inside. A thought that became fact when his fighter passed through the atmospheric shielding into the interior of the ship. Fox had seen vessels of this size before but he was usually working to destroy them, never had he imagined what one would have looked like on the inside. Massive didn't quite do it justice. There where ships of all sizes, recon, fighters, bombers, all the way up to what Fox assumed was a medium class corvette. He took a deep breath as he was guided by crews to an empty space on the hangar floor. It was fairly close to the shielded opening of the hangar. Setting down He looked at the ships around him. Two fighters ahead of him, to his right a heavy bomber, and on his left a gunship. By the number of animals moving around on the floor Fox guessed that the ship had a standing crew of about two thousand, maybe three, and a standby population between five and six thousand. The ship itself was a moveable city, and Fox guessed that further in he would find places selling food, appliances, toiletries, necessities and luxuries. He watched the badger as the animal guided him down until Fox felt the wheels make contact with the floor. The fighter rocked a bit as the shocks absorbed the initial impact. Flipping a switch He watched the wings of his Arwing fold into storage position.

After unstrapping and opening the cockpit, Isaac leap down to the floor, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The mercenary looked around at his surroundings. the metallic din of maintaining ships was a low roar as he took a few steps away from his ship and stopped. Approaching him with a purposeful gait was an animal that was intriguing to him. A fossa, dressed in loose military garb, flanked by a coyote and a wolverine in full armor. After closing the distance between them the Fossa stopped and eyed him. After a pause the Fossa gave Isaac a loose salute, which Isaac replied. "Hello Mr.?"

"Martin," Isaac replied, "Isaac Martin."