The still desert stretched out for countless miles in every direction, the deathly silence broken only by the occasional scree of an overhead bird. From the rocky hills to the prickly brush of the flat plains, almost nothing made a sound.

The empty silence was interrupted by the growing roar of a ship’s engines as a dart-shaped object flew over the empty expanse, soaring between the sparse clouds and disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

Sitting in the pilot's seat of the Nordic Troll, Loomie checked her instruments, looked out over the landscape slipping by beneath her, took the intercom handset and pressed the “talk” button. “Cap’n, we’re almost there. Should be touching down in five minutes”.

“Good. I’ll be up in a minute”, Gerrin’s voice answered her.

Gerrin and Reilly sat at the dining table on the mess deck, discussing a program Reilly and Lewis had cooked up. “So, go over how this works again”, Gerrin continued.

“The main body is just a database file we made up”, Reilly recapped. “The problem is, the data page itself is good enough, as long as no one looks too hard at it, but to get it spread around the cortex we’ll have to rig up a worm program to work it into the servers every time someone calls up the sheet”.

“And what about these friends of yours who can write the worm program? Your kind of friends don’t work for free”.

“Well…” Reilly thought for a second. “They might help us out if we move some cargo for them. Come to think of it, one of them might even take that fuel hog in the cargo bay off our hands”.

“I wouldn’t count on that”, Gerrin mused. “Fuel being kinda pricey, I don’t think any one of our current or prospective business contacts is going to want a fuel-hog truck”.

“Well”, Reilly huffed, “It’s not doing us any good crowding up our cargo bay. Right now, we’re lucky we had room for what we’re hauling now. Better hope what we’re picking up isn’t as big”.

“It won’t be, but what about this cargo your friends might want us to carry? What is it?”

“You’d have to ask them”, Reilly said evasively.

“What is it?” Gerrin repeated firmly.

Reilly raised his hands. “I can’t testify to what I don’t know”.

“Well”, Gerrin surmised wryly, “that certainly puts my mind at ease”.

The intercom interrupted their conversation. “Captain”, Loomie’s voice sounded nervous, “you might want to get up here!”

Gerrin and Reilly looked at each other and rose from their chairs. Reaching for the intercom, Gerrin responded “On my way”.

Gerrin and Reilly started up the short passageway between the mess deck and the ladder to the cockpit. “Think about it”, Reilly continued. “Thanks to that hospital visit, there’s probably a tag on each of us, now”.

“You could still take off”, Gerrin retorted.

“I was seen with you, too”, Reilly reminded him, “so I’m probably tagged”.

They reached the top of the ladder to the cockpit a minute later. Gerrin stopped beside his pilot. “What is it?”

Loomie pointed out the window. Gerrin stiffened as his gaze followed her arm. The small town in the window in front of them was dotted with flaming buildings and plumes of rising smoke. Several buildings along the landing field stood half-charred, while some had already collapsed in on themselves. Several bodies were strewn across the ground on the landing field. “Ni gan shenme ne (What the hell?)", Gerrin murmured.

Loomie looked at him. “Turn back?”

“Not an option”, Gerrin snorted. After a pause he mused “First the business with that packet, then St. Ekaterina, now this. Is it just me, or does the ‘Verse hate us lately?”

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......To Be Continued.