Kadarack - Alastor 872 (Alastor Interstellar catalogue ID) - a real backwater world, a class 9 high axial tilt, high orbital eccentricity planet with a 56% hydrospheric rating and 0.98 standard gravity field and two small moons. It had several claims to fame. It had once been the site of a minor precursor base - Betan. The term Betan was somewhat arbitrary. Alphans were major Precursor Federation that occupied intergalactic space about 2 million years ago. The Betans were a smaller one from a somewhat later period. Betan finds were rare, but nowhere near as noteworthy. The most dangerous sites were Omegan. They were the nemesis of the Alphans and about as close to Evil as one could get. What made this particular sire to important was that an Omegan artifact had been discovered in the Betan base. It had long since been removed and the site cleared of any further hazards or the planet would still be interdicted.
The second claim to fame was that the planet had once been a famous pirate world. Even today the planet was a center of illegal activities. It was a sort of way station between the civilized Imperial Reaches and the Outworlds.
The third claim to fame were dancing girl festivals, not unlike belly dancers. It was supposed to bring in tourists. Instead it drew in the sex starved crews of ships like pirates, asteroid miners, and tramp freighters.
The fourth claim to fame was the planet’s reputation for nearly anything one could want being for sale. A lot of planets made such claims. Kaderack made good on them. For a price just about anything could be had. This last reason was precisely why Duncan was here. There was an auction of some art objects, specifically some sculptures. The one that had caught his eye was a Skythian dancer supposedly sculpted by D. Angyr Hastathi. If so it was a rare find. Duncan was fairly certain is was a fake. Hastathi forgeries were pretty unusual. This one had looked like a near perfect replica.
She might have expected the Hastathi to go for 150,000 CR on a good day. Her broker would take a 30% - to cover his usual fees and the risk. He had known it was a fake. But it was a damned good one - one of the best he had ever seen. The real surprise was when a rather handsome young man dressed ruggedly, but who seemed a little out of place among the smugglers and scoundrels of this planet made his offers. He soon drove the bidding up, his final bid a whopping 280,000 CR. He had even asked to inspect the sculpture, making a show like he thought he knew what he was doing. His inspection made the broker nervous. But the bid the man made after the inspection started a flurry of bids. And when the man walked up and paid in hard currency, the broker’s face beamed.
But Lord Duncan Moran was hardly finished. He pulled the broker aside. “Another 50,000 CR if you can put me in contact with the seller.”
“Good sir ….” the broker started to shake his head.
“220,000 … cash. And now. I know it is a fake. The forger is a man I have researched. It was a fake I was hoping to find. I want to know who the thief stole it from. I will pay the thief another 100,000 CR if they report to my ship - the Fire of Prometheus - and allow me to question them.”
That was when the firefight broke out. It was a group of aliens, Razorbacks was their common name. They looked a bit like pigs. They were well known as hired muscle. The object of their anger seemed to be a rather pretty young woman who was using the crowd to make good an escape. She seemed none too happy. (Xan had yet to collect her 70%.) But it was hard to collect money of you were dead.
“What the hell?” Duncan asked as he slammed into the broker carrying the man to cover just in time.
The broker was stunned for a moment. He struggled to grab Duncan and speak. “Th-that ….” he wheezed. “That … h-her.”
“The thief …?”
“Collector of rare antiquities,” the broker managed to rasp.
Duncan decided to take a chance that the man was speaking the truth. He dropped the remainder of the half million credits in his possession in the broker’s hands and took off at an inhuman pace passing the bounty hunters on their right flank and overtaking the woman in several seconds, still flanking her. He suddenly veered left and slammed into her snatching her up and off the ground throwing up a force shield just in time to stop several blaster bolts. Then he spun around, the woman’s weight hardly even a hindrance, and took off like a shot toward an exterior access door. The only problem with his plan was that there was no ramp on the outside and it was a 3-4 story drop to the tarmack.
Duncan barely slowed down. As he approached he brought his foot up and kicked at the door. An instant before it connected a forced slammed him backwards and blew the door out. It felt like an explosion. The force shield again saved their lives as he shoved their bodies out into open air. The last thing she recalled was the ground rushing up at them and a sudden impact. Then everything went black.
++++++++++++++
She found herself restrained and for a moment she might have thought the worst. Then she recognized the smells of a sick bay. Her side hurt - bad. She hadn’t even realized she had been shot. The restraints were there only to keep her from rolling out of the medical bed. Her shirt was gone. But a man’s shirt several sizes too big was neatly folded on a chair. Her body armor was likewise there - though not her weapons.
That was when she heard the approach of someone large. The man who entered might as well have been Hercules. There was no mistaking who he was. He was the man who had swept her off her feet and … kidnapped her?
Duncan arrived in the doorway. His eyes popped open and he backed out, the door closing once more. Over the PA he spoke. “My apologies. I thought you’d be dressed already. I’m sorry about your shirt. It had to be cut off. I left one in their for you. It’s clean. I wanted to speak with you … about the forgery. Like where you got it.”
The second claim to fame was that the planet had once been a famous pirate world. Even today the planet was a center of illegal activities. It was a sort of way station between the civilized Imperial Reaches and the Outworlds.
The third claim to fame were dancing girl festivals, not unlike belly dancers. It was supposed to bring in tourists. Instead it drew in the sex starved crews of ships like pirates, asteroid miners, and tramp freighters.
The fourth claim to fame was the planet’s reputation for nearly anything one could want being for sale. A lot of planets made such claims. Kaderack made good on them. For a price just about anything could be had. This last reason was precisely why Duncan was here. There was an auction of some art objects, specifically some sculptures. The one that had caught his eye was a Skythian dancer supposedly sculpted by D. Angyr Hastathi. If so it was a rare find. Duncan was fairly certain is was a fake. Hastathi forgeries were pretty unusual. This one had looked like a near perfect replica.
She might have expected the Hastathi to go for 150,000 CR on a good day. Her broker would take a 30% - to cover his usual fees and the risk. He had known it was a fake. But it was a damned good one - one of the best he had ever seen. The real surprise was when a rather handsome young man dressed ruggedly, but who seemed a little out of place among the smugglers and scoundrels of this planet made his offers. He soon drove the bidding up, his final bid a whopping 280,000 CR. He had even asked to inspect the sculpture, making a show like he thought he knew what he was doing. His inspection made the broker nervous. But the bid the man made after the inspection started a flurry of bids. And when the man walked up and paid in hard currency, the broker’s face beamed.
But Lord Duncan Moran was hardly finished. He pulled the broker aside. “Another 50,000 CR if you can put me in contact with the seller.”
“Good sir ….” the broker started to shake his head.
“220,000 … cash. And now. I know it is a fake. The forger is a man I have researched. It was a fake I was hoping to find. I want to know who the thief stole it from. I will pay the thief another 100,000 CR if they report to my ship - the Fire of Prometheus - and allow me to question them.”
That was when the firefight broke out. It was a group of aliens, Razorbacks was their common name. They looked a bit like pigs. They were well known as hired muscle. The object of their anger seemed to be a rather pretty young woman who was using the crowd to make good an escape. She seemed none too happy. (Xan had yet to collect her 70%.) But it was hard to collect money of you were dead.
“What the hell?” Duncan asked as he slammed into the broker carrying the man to cover just in time.
The broker was stunned for a moment. He struggled to grab Duncan and speak. “Th-that ….” he wheezed. “That … h-her.”
“The thief …?”
“Collector of rare antiquities,” the broker managed to rasp.
Duncan decided to take a chance that the man was speaking the truth. He dropped the remainder of the half million credits in his possession in the broker’s hands and took off at an inhuman pace passing the bounty hunters on their right flank and overtaking the woman in several seconds, still flanking her. He suddenly veered left and slammed into her snatching her up and off the ground throwing up a force shield just in time to stop several blaster bolts. Then he spun around, the woman’s weight hardly even a hindrance, and took off like a shot toward an exterior access door. The only problem with his plan was that there was no ramp on the outside and it was a 3-4 story drop to the tarmack.
Duncan barely slowed down. As he approached he brought his foot up and kicked at the door. An instant before it connected a forced slammed him backwards and blew the door out. It felt like an explosion. The force shield again saved their lives as he shoved their bodies out into open air. The last thing she recalled was the ground rushing up at them and a sudden impact. Then everything went black.
++++++++++++++
She found herself restrained and for a moment she might have thought the worst. Then she recognized the smells of a sick bay. Her side hurt - bad. She hadn’t even realized she had been shot. The restraints were there only to keep her from rolling out of the medical bed. Her shirt was gone. But a man’s shirt several sizes too big was neatly folded on a chair. Her body armor was likewise there - though not her weapons.
That was when she heard the approach of someone large. The man who entered might as well have been Hercules. There was no mistaking who he was. He was the man who had swept her off her feet and … kidnapped her?
Duncan arrived in the doorway. His eyes popped open and he backed out, the door closing once more. Over the PA he spoke. “My apologies. I thought you’d be dressed already. I’m sorry about your shirt. It had to be cut off. I left one in their for you. It’s clean. I wanted to speak with you … about the forgery. Like where you got it.”