Jason woke with the feeling that his head was filled with cotton. As he eased himself up the room began to spin and he felt a wave of nausea. He rarely drank and the concept of a hangover was a novelty for him. Swinging his feet over the edge of his bunk, Jason began to stand up. He got almost half way there before being forced to put his hand to his temple with a groan. This was defiantly one novelty he could have done without.

An hour later found Jason sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee. He had heard it was the thing for a hangover, but was having a hard time believing it. The bitter liquid tasted like ash in his mouth, as if it were sucking what little moisture remained from is already parched palate.

It was then that the hatch to Rick’s bunk opened with a clank, followed by the sound of the man climbing the ladder up to the kitchen. “Howdy Jay, how ya feelin’?”

“Ugh”

“That good huh?” Rick regarded him a moment with a sardonic grin.

“Here, this’ll fix ya up.” Rick placed a small tablet on the table in front of Jason.

Jason moved to pick up his coffee but Rick took the cup from the table before he could reach it. He poured the now cold liquid down the sink before speaking again. “This ain’t what you need either.”

Rick rinsed and refilled the cup with cold water. Then, opening a cupboard he extracted a bottle of whiskey. When had he gotten that? Jason tried to recall the more than slightly fuzzy details that surrounded the latter half of their evening after the stop at the bar. His recollections where interrupted when he saw Rick pour a generous ration of the liquid into the cold water before passing the cup back to him. “Hair of the dog. Wash that pill down with this ‘n you’ll be feeling close to human again.”

“Now we’re mixing drugs and alcohol for breakfast?” asked Jason.

“Or, you can spend half the rest of the day feeling like you do now,” replied Rick.

Jason considered this, then complied with his friend’s instructions. Somehow, contrary to his expectations, the diluted liquor seemed to settle his stomach.

“So, what’s on tap for today?” asked Rick. “We getting off this rock?”

“I’m meeting someone for lunch; old friend from school. He works in the local bureaucracy. I waved him a few days ago and he might have some information relating to Emma, seeing as the Alliance like to keep records of all indentured bonding.”

“After I meet Aaron, we leave late this afternoon for Regina. From there, we hit Dayton Colony, then head back to Persephone to complete the circuit and pick up a new route. Then, what we do next depends on what I find out this afternoon.

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Jason sat in the bar waiting for his old acquaintance to show himself. The barkeep scowled at him as he plunked another glass of ice water in front of his only patron. It was the only thing he had ordered since coming in half an hour ago.

A draft blew through the room as the door opened and an overweight man, dressed in a business suit and tie entered the near empty establishment. Coming up to the bar, he sat down next to Jason and ordered a beer.

”Been a long time Aaron. How’ve you been?” asked Jason.

“Keepin’ busy,” replied Aaron Freedman. “’Bout yourself, Jason. Understand you finally got out of that indenture.”

“Wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t otherwise.”

“Good for you, what’re you doing with yourself now?”

The conversation went on for a while as the two caught up on lost time. Finally, Jason broached the topic that had brought him there in the first place.

“So, you find anything out regarding my sister’s whereabouts?”

The other man lowered his voice. “Might have done some digging. Information pertaining to transfer of bonded indenture is supposed to be kept confidential though, so I’d appreciate that this stays between us.”

Jason nodded. He suspected as much, which was why he had left Rick back on the ship for this little meeting.

“All indenturing, transfers of indenture, and termination of indentures are supposed to be filed with the Alliance office of social services. They keep records in order to try and keep the holder honest. Keep ‘em from playing funny games and turning it into nothing better than slavery.”

Jason gave his old friend a ‘yeah, right,’ sort of look, but allowed him to continue. He was on a core planet, and as such, disparaging any aspect of the mighty Alliance of Planets while in a bar wearing a brown coat was something that was probably not a recommended activity.

“I was able to get some time unsupervised in the records department the other day. Turned this up.” Aaron slid a printout to Jason who studied the document.

“Says here her indenture was paid in full. But that’s not right, because she isn’t free and about like me.”

“That’s right. It’s a tactic sometimes used by slavers to circumvent the system. They register the indenture as paid in full, and then just make the person in question disappear once they’re off the records.

Jason ground his teeth at this news. “So, back to square one. No easy way to find her.”

His old friend smiled at him, “Not entirely. Look at this,” he pointed at another number.

“What’s that?”

“Bank account number. It was the one that funds were drawn on to pay your sister’s former indenture holder. Managed to pull some strings and was able to put a name to that number.”

“And?”

“Red Satin Inn on Newhall.”

“Newhall, huh.”

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“Rick, we ready to leave the world.” Jason walked up the ramp of his ship.

“Not quite Jay, something came up.”

“Why am I not liking the tone of your voice?”

“One of Anastasia’s goons came by. Wants us to stop by her office before we leave.”

“Did ya say no?”

“He kinda impressed upon me that it wasn’t a question.

“Ta me duh,” muttered Jason. Just when things were starting to go smooth.

Two hours later the two men were ushered into the plush and expensively decorated office of the female Mafia boss.

”Gentlemen, it ‘as been too long,” the woman smiled at them indulgently. “Can I offer you drink.”

“I think we’re good," Jason remarked dryly. "Besides, I’ve got to fly.”

“Ah yes, about that. I understand your next stop es going to be on Regina. As et appens, I ave a package that needs delivery there.”

“I appreciate the offer Anastasia, but if you don’t mind. I have issues of conscience with running narcotics.”

“Ah,” she regarded him a moment as she took a slim cigar from her desk, and lighting it. “Is drugs, true, but not like last time.”

Anastasia paused a moment to inhale the pungent smoke, then exhale it in a blue grey cloud that filled the air over her desk. “It es shipment of Pascaline-D. Used to treat disorder common to miners there. Es similar to Tuberculosis, I think. They seem to ave reliability issue ith receiving their normal shipments.”

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Five days later, Jason set his ship down on the outskirts of the township of Paradiso on Regina. It was a dry hilly area and the downdraft from the engines kicked up a cloud of dust that temporarily obscured the image of the ship for any would be observers. It was late afternoon and the sun hung low in a sky already beginning to take on the orange colors of the local sunset.

“We really gotta hoof it all the way in?” grumbled Rick.

“Don’t see much choice. I don’t wanna arouse suspicion by landing a strange ship in the middle of town just to visit the local black market racketeer.”

“Damn, wish we had a mule.”

“So do I, but ships a bit too small to keep one,” replied Jason looking around his cargo bay. It was only slightly bigger than a standard cargo container, and was in fact designed to be that way. Some ships, like fireflies, looked smaller on the outside than they did once you got inside. The mosquito was quite the opposite, which was ironic since it had been designed to be a shrunken down version of the venerable older ships. The name was a bit of a misnomer as well, as the ship looked more like a bee or wasp. The back of the ship, that formed the abdomen of the insect shape, contained both the engine room on the top level, directly above the small cargo bay on the lower level. As such, the cargo bay door was located at the back of the ship rather than on the front as on a firefly. The need to also accommodate the propulsion ring and associated fuel tanks, drive coils, and such in the back section of the ship contributed to the disparity between the external dimension and the internal living space. Also located at the back of the ship was the small and only washroom containing a cramped shower; this was located next to the engine room.

Forward of the cargo bay and engine room, was the midsection of the ship, forming the thorax of its shape. This area was also divided into two levels. The top level was taken up entirely by the combination kitchen and common area. The lower level was divided into four bunks, accessible by hatches, located at the four corners of the kitchen-common area. Two of these were single berths; Jason and Rick had already claimed these. The other two were double births, currently unoccupied, allowing the ship to sleep a total of six people. Forward of the midsection was the cockpit. This was roughly the same in size and dimension to that of a firefly.

“I’m still a bit surprised you agreed to do this job,” remarked Rick.

“Seemed on the level enough, aside from the illegal black market part that is.” Jason absentmindedly pulled the shipping decal he had affixed to it, that marked it as a parcel bound for an imaginary address on Persephone; a precaution in case they had gotten searched. It hadn’t been necessary. He was learning that ‘tipping’ the local port authority official went a long way to making things go smooth. Jason had to smile. It turned out the fed that had hassled him so much his first day on Londinium was as crooked as the men he liked to harass.

They finished affixing straps to the two crates, which allowed them each to carry one like a backpack, and then headed into town.

----------------------------------------

The trek into the small mining community was less than two kilometers, not bad for two men in relatively good physical shape, but not easy when carrying two crates of medical supplies either. Both men where sweaty and dusty by the time the approached the settlement. As the approached, Jason kept his eyes peeled for any sign of trouble. This was the one part of the job where if they got pinched, he didn’t have a convincing explanation planned as to why they were transporting two crates of regulated pharmaceuticals.

“Finally,” complained Rick as they began walking up the main and only street that ran the length of the town. The sun had since set and they were shrouded in darkness, save for the stray light that filtered from the occasional window.

“Shh,” Jason silenced his friend, hearing the sound of several pair of boots heading their way. Looking around quickly, he pulled his companion into the narrow space between two buildings. It was not a moment too soon as just then several blue and purple uniformed soldiers strode into view, heading up the street in the direction from which they had come.

“Apparently there is an alliance garrison stationed near here,” whispered Jason. “There’s not much for them to do, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to make ourselves known to them on the off chance they feel like earning their pay for a change.”

Deciding on caution, the two made their way across the small settlement by route of alleys and trespassing through back yards. Arriving at grubby saloon that was their destination, Jason turned to his companion.

“You wait here,” indicating the dark alley along the side of the building. “I’ll go in there and make the contact.” Jason handed Rick a com unit before walking out into the open.

Jason entered the building to find that the bar was populated by an assortment of mostly grubby and grizzled looking men and a few odd women, presumably whores, who didn’t look much better. A man was playing an old piano in the corner, though not very well. Several men at a nearby table looked up from their poker game to appraise Jason as he walked to the bar and ordered a beer.

Jason did his best to get a feel for the place. After a little while the barkeep wandered nearby and Jason got the man’s attention. “You know a man named Darvis?” he asked.

The other man stared at him hard for a long moment. “Depends, who wants ta know?”

“Mutual acquaintance asked me to deliver a… letter.”

The other man said nothing for another moment. Then, with a meaningful look he nodded his head in the direction of a door leading into the back room of the establishment.

“Excuse me,” said Jason, catching his meaning. “I think I need to use your restroom.” Getting up, he headed in the indicated direction, leaving his almost untouched beer on the counter.

Entering the back room, Jason found the darkened space filled with boxes of liquor and other supplies. Initially he thought the barkeeper had led him astray, but then he heard sounds and noticed a crack of light coming from under another door off to the side. Carefully trying the handle, he found it was open, and that it led to a stairwell that descended down into a basement. Quietly Jason descended the steps until finally he came out into a room that reminding him of Badger’s headquarters back on Persephone. He also found himself starting down the barrels of several guns as their owner’s clicked of the safeties.

“Who the ruttin’ hell are you?” said the cold and menacing voice of the man seated behind a battered wooden desk. He was better dressed than Badger, at least he wore a shirt, and lacked the heavy Dayton accent, but otherwise he was much the same sort of character.

Looking at the man who was holding a small revolver on him, Jason said carefully. “Are you Mr. Darvis?”

“Maybe.” The man glanced at the two hulking thugs that stood to either side of him, as if to reassure himself of their presence. The one to his left had leveled a sawed off shotgun on Jason. The one to his right still held a struggling woman in his grasp. She was tall, as tall as he was, with shoulder-length dark brown hair. She had a hard expression on her face and looked like she could give the thug a seriously hard time, had her hands not been manacled together in front of her. Dressed in a long brown coat like Jason’s, she was holding tightly to the shoulder of a young sandy haired boy, who looked to be about eleven or twelve years old. The boy was likewise bound.

There was also another man, apparently not one of Darvis’s though, as he was standing in front of the desk, apparently having been in the process of doing business with him before Jason’s interruption. He had also instinctively drawn a gun.

Jason made sure his hands were in plain view, and very much away from his holster. “Got a delivery. Nothing more.” There was a pregnant silence as Jason contemplated how much information to reveal. “Medical supplies, from Londinium.”

Darvis relaxed a bit, though he kept his gun leveled. “The Pascaline?” he asked. Jason nodded.

Darvis finally lowered his gun. This seemed to release the tension in the room and the others followed suit. “Where is it?”

“Safe, nearby. Got someone watching it.”

“Have em bring it around to the back of the building,” instructed Darvis. “The back door into the storeroom is open. Have em bring it down here.” Jason relayed the instructions to Rick over the com. Then waited patiently as the other men in the room returned to their business.

“I’ll take the boy Darvis,” said the man in front of the desk. “He’s old enough to work the mines.”

“No!” exclaimed the bound woman. “You can’t take my son there.”

Ignoring her, Darvis replied, “Sure you don’t want her too, she’s pretty well muscled for a woman. Give ya a deal.”

“Naa, women cause too much trouble with the rest of the crew,” the man was apparently a mine foreman of some sort.

“Fine enough, three hundred then. Suppose I’ll just put her to work upstairs. She’s feisty one, but I’ve broken her type before.” Darvis leered at the woman who stared back at him with a look of utter hate like none Jason had ever seen before.

“One fifty,” replied the foreman.

Darvis just laughed at him.

“The Boden’s gets the young ones quick,” argued the foreman. “With what your charging for the Pascaline, he may not last the year. One fifty is fair.”

At hearing this comment, the woman screamed in rage. She elbowed the hulking thug behind her, and as the man doubled over in pain, she lunged at the little man behind the desk. “You son of a ..” she screamed, but was unable to complete sentence as Darvis rose and struck her hard across the face with his redrawn pistol. Jason winced at the sound of metal meeting bone and flesh. The woman staggered and fell to the floor, blood dripping from her mouth. It was then that Jason noticed that her ankles where chained as well. Had it not been for her restraints, she could have done the little man serious damage.

“Mom!” yelled the little boy.

“That is enough from you!” ordered Darvis, leveling the pistol not at the woman’s head, but at her child’s. “You are going to behave now.”

The woman looked back down at the filthy floor on which she was lying in defeat, and began to cry. Jason found it sickening to see what the proud looking woman had been reduced to. Forgoing better judgement, he stepped forward to intervene. He barely made it two steeps when everyone in the room was surprised by the double click of a lever action rifle being chambered.

“Everyone hold it right there,” said a deep voice from behind Jason. The thug with the shotgun suddenly swung his weapon up toward the intruder. Realizing he was in the line of fire, Jason leaped to the side as the roar of the shotgun filled the tiny space. The boy yelped in surprise, his mother pulling him suddenly to the floor and shielding his head with her own body.

The shot went wild though, hitting the concrete blocks of the wall. Jason felt a sharp pain in his hip as a ricocheting pellet struck him in the backside. Looking back around the room, he could see that the thug had been too slow, and a red trickle began to ooze from a new hole in the center of his forehead. The man slumped back against the wall behind him, sightless eyes starting into nothing as his lifeless body slid to the floor.

Jason turned to see the rifleman. The man was wearing a sheriff’s star on his chest. He cycled his weapon and had it pointed directly at Darvis who in turn had his gun leveled on the sheriff. A woman, presumably the sheriff’s deputy, as she was also wearing a brass star, was standing behind him with her own pistol drawn. They were the only three with guns drawn now, as the other thug had returned to his task of restraining the woman and the boy, and the foreman seemed to have no intention of pointing a gun at the local law. For his part, Jason had forgotten that he was packing.

“What the hell you want Borne?” demanded Darvis.

“Human trafficking Darvis. Look’s like I’ve finally caught you red handed.”

The woman on the floor looked up unable to believe her sudden luck. She began wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Ain’t slaves Sheriff, these two here are legally indentured.” Darvis, now outgunned, seemed unfazed as he picked a handful of papers from his desk with his free hand and waved them at the sheriff. Don’t see as you can do a damn thing.”

“We’ll see about that,” the sheriff nodded to his deputy who strode forward to take the paperwork. She studied it for several moments.

“Linda Hawkins,” she addressed the woman on the ground, who nodded in reply, “and Matthew Hawkins.”

“Yes, Mam,” replied the boy.

“It says you two arrived yesterday from Ezra, as part of a group whose indenture was sold Mister Darvis by one Adalia Nishka, is that correct?”

The other woman nodded, hoping she would soon be free from this nightmare.

“Hate to say it boss, but this all looks legit," remarked the deputy. "Sure as hell ain’t right, but it does look legal.” The other’s woman’s look fell once again into a look of despair.

Darvis chuckled and put down his gun. “Looks like it’s not your day sheriff. Tell ya what, just for you, I’ll even overlook this little altercation,” he glanced down at the dead man on the floor. “If’n you get the hell outa my office right now.”

The sheriff looked at his deputy. The bonded woman, really no more than a slave thought Jason, began to cry once again.

“There anything else here we can bring him in on?”

“Doubt it, boss.”

Just then, Rick came clumping noisily down the stairs, both crates of medicine carried in his muscular arms.

It only took the sheriff a moment to recognize the crates. As understanding dawned, he swung is loaded rifle back up to Darvis’s head, taking the little man by surprise. Jason began to struggle to his feet. The lawman noticed him and kicked him in the chest.

“Stay down, scum,” speaking to Jason. “I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

Jason fell back to the floor. He grunted in pain as his wounded hip hit the floor once again.

“People dying left and right of the Boden’s and your scalping them for Pascaline,” continued the lawman. “I think I might just get to hang you yet.”

“Not my fault the Alliance shipment got took,” replied Darvis. “Just a business man. I see a demand, and I find the means to fill it.” He was cut off as the sheriff grabbed him by the collar and hauled him over his desk. The second thug took this opportunity to pull his own gun, leveling it at the sheriff.

Just then, when things seemed they couldn’t get much worse, their was the a commotion from the stairwell, and two more thugs appeared.

“Trouble boss?” asked one before having the the chance to survey the scene. “Holy!” The two men drew their guns and leveled them on the two officers. The sheriff did not release his grasp and still had Darvis hauled over his desk.

“Everyone lets just calm down,” said the Deputy, trying to diffuse the situation. Then to her senior officer “It ain’t his fault, best you cool down too.”

The sheriff glared at the man and released the man.

“That’s right,” said Darvis, “I understand your daughter’s mighty sick since the last shipment got taken. You walk out of here and I might just be able to help you out. For a price of course.” To everyone’s horror, the sheriff ignored caution and slowly raised his sawed off rifle to Darvis’s chest. Jason willed himself to relax as he looked around the room. He needed all of his mental faculties in a situation like this. Darvis and his thugs where scared but indignant that their lair had been invaded, the depudy was scared as well, but she was better trained and doing a better job of holding it together. The indentured woman was holding her son tightly, fearing for his safety more than for her own. The Sheriff, however, was literally boiling over with anger. There was going to be one serious shootout any second, and Jason and Rick where stuck in the middle of it.

Jason moved his hand to his holster, but then thought better. Now was not the time for luck. Carefully he struggled to his feet despite his injury.

“I told you to stay put,” barked the sheriff, but he was unable to do anything, being preoccupied as he was with Darvis.

“You know, I really don’t think this is in anyone’s best interest,” said Jason. “Any of you consider how this is likely to play out? Beyond the next few minutes that is?” Everyone in the room looked at him.

“I understand there is a powerful need for this medicine round here. Now, it may not seem right how it arrived here, but here it is none the less.” Jason looked the sheriff in the eyes, then he turned to Darvis, then to each of the other people in the room, trying to sense if and when any of them was likely to do something stupid that would increase the already nonzero body count. He finally came to rest on the indentured woman. A strange sort of understanding seemed to pass between them.

“He’s right,” said the woman. Darvis and the two officers’s turned to look at her. They had forgotten she was there. Her voice was strong, but at the same time even and full of reason. “You have a shoot out, the Purplebellies’ll find out. They come down here, and they’ll confiscate that entire shipment as evidence. I can guarantee you not so much as a drop will ever see use.”

Jason could literally feel the tension drop ever so slightly at the logic in the woman’s words. He could also tell the sheriff was still not ready to let it go. The core of the issue struck to close to home for him.

Jason limped over to his friend who was still holding the two crates. Releasing the catch on the top one, he carefully opened the lid. “Well, will you look at all these pretty little phials,” he said, carefully extracting one. “Hard to believe that this here’s got the power to save so many lives. Tell me, Sheriff, how many doses is in here.”

“More’n fifty. Enough to keep a person going for near on a year,” the man’s voice cracked through gritted teeth. He could tell Jason was playing with him.

“Well, now. Ain’t that somethin’.” Jason extracted another phial.

“You put that down, boy. That’s mine,” growled Darvis. “None of yours to be messin with.”

“Oh, I ain’t been paid yet,” replied Jason, very carefully walking back to where the sheriff and Darvis stood, literally at each others throats. “Don’t seem like it’s yours till you pay me. Being a business man, as you say, you should understand that.”

Jason ever so slowly lifted the two phials of liquid, and held them before the sheriff’s eyes. Then, to the surprise of everyone in the room, he carefully placed them in the man’s breast pocket. Jason could feel them man’s raging anger being replaced by confusion. The rigid grip on his rifle even relaxed a bit.

The indentured woman, Linda Hawkins, finally broke the silence. “Best look to your own, lawman. Take it from one parent to another.”

The sheriff looked at her then back to Darvis. He spit in the man’s face. Then he lowered his weapon and turned, striding out of the room, his deputy in tow.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Rick, as he finally lowered his burden to the floor.

“Now, about being paid,” said Jason, turning his attention to the stunned Darvis. The man had intended full well to haggle with him before the lawman had arrived, but now he simply wiped the spit from his cheek and opened his desk drawer to pull out a pouch that he tossed wordlessly to Jason.

Jason began counting the coins. After a moment he tossed it back onto Darvis’s desk.

Darvis looked at him in suspecion. “What’s your game?’

“Them,” Jason pointed at the woman and her son. “You were gonna sell the kid for one fifty to him,” indicating the foreman who was trying now to hide the fact that he had urinated on himself. “There’s three hundred there. That should be good for both of them.”

“That’s robbery,” said Darvis, returning to haggle mode.

“She’d be trouble for you. You know it. Or we could talk to those nice purplebellies about this medicine here”

“Fine. Get the hell outta my office. And you,” Darvis looked to the thug on his right. Clean this mess up!”

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For Jason, the walk back to the ship was more grueling than the trek into town had been on account of his new injury. The tall woman and her son kept to themselves as Rick helped Jason over the uneven terrain. The woman carried a military style duffel bag, the boy a large backpack, each presumably containing everything that they respectively owned.

When they finally arrived at the ship. They gathered around the kitchen table. Finally able to get off his feat, Jason eased himself painfully into a chair. Pulling the paperwork he had gotten from Darvis from his front pocket, he handed it to the woman.

“What’s this,” asked Linda Hawkins.

“Figured you might want the honor of burning them,” replied Jason to everyone’s surprise.

“Sometimes right is white and wrong is black,” he regarded Rick, who nodded his assent. “If not for your words of wisdom back there, we’d either be dead or locked up for a good long time. I figure that makes us about square. You ‘n your son are free as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, that’s mighty unexpected of you,” said Linda warily. She had been ready for just about anything, but not this.

“Our next stop is Dayton Colony. I’ll agree to take you there, no charge if you like, as I‘m sure you likely have a desire to never see this dust-ball again. If your willing to work, and can prove your useful, I may be able to let you stay on a while longer. After Dayton is Persephone, from there, Newhall. What do you say?” “Seein’ as I used to be a field medic during the war, how bout I pull that bullet outta your pe-gu and patch you up,” replied Linda.

It was now Jason's turn to be surprised. “I’d say that would go pretty far down the road to useful.”

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Half a ‘Verse away, Aaron Freedman yawned as he made his way across his apartment to answer the door. Who in their right mind called at this hour anyway, he wondered to himself? When he opened the door, it revealed two well dressed looking men wearing business suits.

“Mister Aaron Freedman?” the first asked.

“That’s me.”

“We need a moment of your time Mister Freedman. May we come in?” the other man asked.

“Well, I suppose if you’re quick about it.” Aaron stepped aside to allow them in.

As soon as the door closed, the first man fished a strange pencil like apparatus from his pocket. It was then that Aaron noticed that they were both wearing blue gloves.

“What is this all about?” asked Aaron.

“You have been making some very unorthodox inquiries at work Mister Friedman. Looking into things I’m afraid must not be looked into.” The man pressed a button and the device telescoped out slightly and a blue light came on.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Aaron protested.

The last thing Aaron saw was the device being held in front of his eyes; the last thing, that is, before he was overtaken by sudden and excruciating pain in his head. Then everything went black.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's notes: Thanks again for the feedback.