It was a hot day on Boros and the crowds were out in force, finding any way to take their minds of the heat. The closeness of the people made Hitch just that much more antsy. He always got that way, ever since the war – a few months planetside made him jumpy. Made him hear the thumping of Alliance boots, and here, so near the core it was 10x worse than usual. He stopped near a short alley between a bar and a small general store; he leaned against the hard adobe and read the note again.

“Hitch, Think I have something for you. Might be a good chance to get off this rock. Not sure about the money, but I think you’ll like the reward. 0900 at the ‘Maid’s Kiss’

Woz”

He crumpled the note and put it into his jacket pocket. Anything to get off this planet would be worth it, and he trusted Woz, he’d known the man for years. Not that Woz was a special case. In the 6 years since the war Hitch had been from one side of the ‘verse to the other and he knew someone on almost every habitable planet and moon spinning, and a few on the uninhabitable ones. That was his shtick, you need something and he can find it, or knows someone who can. From Sihnon to Paquin to Lilac and everywhere in between, he had contacts. But contacts had fallen pretty short for the past few months. He came to Boros with a salvage crew and decided to see what he could find while here. A few odd jobs carried him for a couple weeks and then the work just ran out. He had enough credit to live just fine, but that thumping was growing louder, and the itch between his shoulders just wouldn’t go away. He was ready to sign on as a porter on one of the luxury liners if it’d get him offworld. He walked around to the front of the bar and checked the sign: “Maid’s Kiss” it said in a badly painted hand. It was a dive, he knew. He’d spent a few evenings here himself, hoping to hear about something in which he could offer his services with no luck. Well, maybe his luck was gonna change today. He stepped through the door and headed over to a corner table, scanning the exits out of habit, just like he’d done every time he walked into a building Back door down the hall and on the left, front door and two side windows, he thought to himself as he sat, back to wall and facing the front door. A barmaid came up to his table, dressed in a dirty kimono and sweat-smeared white face paint. “What’ll it be?” “Tea,” he said, not looking away from the door “green.” The woman nodded and walked away towards the bar, glancing over her shoulder at Hitch. In a moment she returned, a pot of steaming Green tea and 6 small cups on her tray. She placed the tray on the table and walked away. Hitch poured himself a cup of tea just as the front door of the bar opened. In walked an older man, perhaps in his late 50s, overweight and dressed in worn coveralls and a baseball cap, both smeared with old grease and new sweat. Short gray hair stuck out from under the cap and sweat trickled down his flushed face into what looked like a couple days worth of stubble. He stopped just inside the door and glanced around the room. He spotted Hitch and headed towards his table. Hitch eased his pistol in its holster as the man reached the table. “You Hitch?” The man said, taking a seat at the table and looking into the pot on the table “Euch, Hot tea on a day like this?” He motioned to the bartender “A beer, cold, thanks.” He turned back to Hitch “Sorry,” he said “Anyways, Woz told me what you looked like… You are Hitch right?” Hitch leaned forward, setting his cup down on the table “How’s about we start with who you are?” The man blinked “Oh, yes, of course, name’s Corky. The rest of why I need you should wait for the others to show up.” “Others?” Hitch asked “Yeah,” Corky took the beer from the waitress “Ah, thank you.” He took a swig “Yeah, they should be here soon.” He was right. A more eclectic group of people Hitch had never seen. A man near his own age, dressed in a garishly-colored jumpsuit and hair that stuck out every whichway named himself Buck, “A bit of a pilot and a fair shot with a gun,” he said “But a better shot with my skiff.” Accompanying him was another man, a bit older than Hitch, dressed in fairly nondescript clothes. “Name’s Dixon,” he said, shaking Hitch’s hand “Dixon Griffith, Salvager.” Next was a sober-faced women dressed in a dark blue, almost military, flight suit. Hitch recognized her face from somewhere, but until she named herself he couldn’t think of from where. “Timora,” the woman said “Timora Fa-Shu.” Hitch’s eyes went wide “The Butcher of Parthenon?” he asked, taken aback The woman just looked at him “I’ve been called that, yes.” She poured herself a cup of tea just as another man walked up to the table. He wore a t-shirt and fatigues bloused into the canvas leggings that covered heavily worn military boots. Hitch could guess his profession before the man even reached the table, he wore on his head a beat up Independent army helmet, the red crosses on either side faded, the paint chipped in several places. “Colt.” the man said, taking a seat and removing his Helmet. He didn’t say a word more as he too took up a cup of tea. “Well,” Corky said, “We’re enough of us here. There’s one more, but she’s meeting us later.” He finished off his beer and motioned for another one “Now, I suppose y’all want to know why you’ve been asked here by an old Ja Hwo like myself. Truth is, I need a little help retrieving something of mine,” he paused as his beer arrived “And then I need a crew to fly it for me.” He took a swig, letting his words sink in. “Fly?” Buck said, “You’re talking about a ship?” Corky nodded “Retrieve, You said,” Dixon put in “Did you lose it? I always check the last place I saw it whenever I lose something.” “I didn’t lose it,” Corky said “It was taken from me.” Hitch leaned forward, “Why don’t you start at the beginning.” Corky nodded “Of course.” He took a swig “I’ve been in the Alliance for almost as long as I can remember. I was never much of a soldier, but I’m one hell of a mechanic. I spent nearly all of my 40 years on the same boat, the S.S. Nathaniel Campell. She’s a gunboat, older model Helix, used primarily as a troop transport.” “I know the model,” Timora said “I did some training on one at the academy. Not the most reliable ship, but armored and armed. And old.” Corky smiled “You can say that again, hell, the Campbell was old when I joined up. But she’s a good ship if you know how to treat her, and I do.” He finished off the second beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “She was commanded by Captain George Wonn, a better man I have never known, may he rest in peace. I was her main engineer until the day she was decommissioned, shortly after the end of the war. Which was, incidentally, the same day I was retired. Well, George just couldn’t see the old girl being smelted down and sold for scrapped so he bought her. And he asked me to be his engineer. OF course I accepted. That ship was almost all I’d ever known. So, George gets a crew together, mostly Lao Deow Ya fellows like George and myself. Spent about a year refitting her and making her shipshape then we set out. Not to anywhere in particular, but we ended up running around the Rim worlds for quite a while. Doing mostly legitimate transport work, and a few smuggling runs, but George is getting itchy for action. So, one day, about 4 months ago, he has our pilot set a course for the edge of the Burnham quadrant.” “Reaver space?” Colt said, a light in his eyes Corky nodded, “Yeah, George said he wanted to do some Reaver hunting. You know, thin the herd out a little. Well, I wasn’t to keen on the idea, hell, I though it was most Mo Min Chi Meow idea I’d ever heard. But he was my Captain and my friend and I trusted his judgment. And I figured if I’m gonna go, why not go doing some good.” He sat there for a moment, just staring into space before he continued, “Things went well at first, we took out a couple small raiders, nothing major but it was something. Then one day they came upon us, three good-sized gunboats, armed and mean. We took out two of them, but not without taking a fair beating ourselves. But the last one was evasive, couldn’t get a good lock. He took out our engines and port missile bay. We tried to run but they took out the bridge too, we started losing all air pressure so I grabbed George and sealed off the upper deck and waited. I just waited to be boarded, killed. George was in bad shape; he took a piece of shrapnel to the chest and was bleeding bad. And still we waited.” He sighed, “They never came. They just crippled us and left us adrift. I managed to rig a workable SOS beacon, but I didn’t expect it to work. We drifted for almost 2 days before a small Alliance cruiser, who took George and myself on board and the ship in tow, found us. George died the next day and the Alliance impounded the ship to pay for the ‘Rescue Costs’. So here I am, stuck on Boros and watching as my ship is being put up for public auction. She’s probably going to get smelted down.” “So where do we come into this?” Hitch asked, pouring another cup of tea. “I need your help to get my ship back. In payment the ship is yours. I only ask that I stay on as mechanic.” “Why do you need our help?” Colt asked “Why not just buy it at the auction?” Corky laughed “Don’t you think that if I the credits to do that I could have kept it from being impounded in the first place?” he shook his head, “No, it pretty much has to be a snatch and grab.” “A snatch and grab,” Buck said, leaning forward “From an Alliance impound yard on Boros, a planet that’s home to one of the largest Alliance fleet yards in the verse?” Corky nodded Buck smiled “I’m in.” “Good to hear, good to hear. It shouldn’t be a difficult operation, the impound yard isn’t heavily guarded and I know right where the ship is. Just get me in and I’ll only need about a half an hour to get her fixed enough to fly…” “Wait a second,” Hitch interrupted “you said ‘Get her fixed’? You mean she’s not in working order?” “Well, no, like I said, the Reavers took out the engines and opened up the bridge. Hell, she’ll take a couple of weeks of work to make her space worthy. I only need a half hour to get her off the ground though. After that we can stash her at my friends junkyard while we make repairs. Like I said, it shouldn’t be hard.”