Jocasta was about to make an off color joke about sizes of boats and motions of oceans when an alert pipped in her implants. Her attention seemed to focus off in space for a moment as she rapidly assimilated information from a number of her drones. Her eyes blinked very rapidly as she cycled between views at a speed fast enough to make her regret how much Nebula Tears she had consumed.

“Problem,” Dirk said, not in question but in statement.

“Eighteen minutes ago a luxury liner, Tenebs Tribune, docked. From the looks of it, she was hijacked out of system and came in under her codes,” Jocasta reported, watching silent footage of a gang of rag tag men bursting out of the hold as the liner unbuttoned. They swarmed over the security personnel before they knew what was happening.

“Six minutes ago they took control of the transit stations and the control center it looks…”

The monitor on the wall sprung to life and was filled with the image of a heavy browed man with a shaven scalp and a mechanical eye. He grinned through a mouth of metal teeth in a manner that looked both smug and threatening at the same time.

“Ello folks, I’m sorry to interrupt your hard earned vacation, but this station, why its under new management. Im afraid we will be closing it for renovations,” he leered, scratching an ear as he did so.

“Some nice gentlemen will be around to each island in turn to collect our cancellation fees from ya, but don’t worry, no one will be hurt provided they give my men everything they ask for,” he explained, his grin growing wider.

 

“Turn over your valuables and we will let you leave alive, for those who dont appreciate my nice industry speech. And just so you know, the smart ladies who built this place put failsafes into the boats. I wouldn’t try leaving your islands without my boys express permission if was you!”

 

The screen cut out to be replaced by a slowly rotating skull and cross bones.