SHIRR, UTOPIA MCXVI (WCE Headquarters)

The WCE dramatically confirmed long standing rumors about the Portcia system, when it released heavily edited transcripts from the log of the destroyer WCE Chasseur, Lt. Cmdr Thomas Boyle commanding. The log provides conclusive evidence that the Portcia Black Hole is in fact a gateway to previously unknown regions of space. The discovery was made while conducting a routine survey of the system and in particular, its only planet, Daloe.

After going through a refit at WCE Husgow, the Chasseur returned to the Portcia system and directed his ship at maximum speed towards the black hole. As the ship accelerated, intense vibration set in throughout the ship. The vibrations increased steadily when , when suddenly a violent explosion in the engine section rocked the entire vessel. Boyle's log goes on to say, "I was getting concerned that if the vibrations continued to build that the hull might break up. Then there was a terrific explosion aft and I thought we'd had it. Suddenly, there was this indescribable tingling sensation and everything just seemed to stop. The next thing I knew [the] navigator was calling off readings and frantically working his console. We got the repairbots going on the damage and luckily no one was hurt. After the ship's doctor sedated the navigator, we settled down and tried to get a fix on our position. (DELETED) We finally concluded that there simply were not any known celestial objects within the range of our instruments."

A second ship, the WCE Medecino, Lt. Von Huber commanding, entered the black hole a week later.Contact was made with the Chasseur, but a freak equipment malfunction broke communications seconds after they had begun. The first news of the mission's psychs was received [by] then WCE Manticore came on the air from the Portcia system a week later. The WCE Chasseur was not heard from again until Week 42 of 182, when she also returned to the Portcia system after a cruise lasting almost six months.

The WCE refused to release any more information about this newly discovered area, now referred to as the Transhole region.

Sources have indicated that there is a heated debate over this area, among the Periphery Directors, especially, the question of whether or not the Transhole region is part of the Stellar Empire and/or part of the Capellan Periphery, and subject to its laws. A decision will have to made made by the Emperor, himself, prior to the enacting of any Imperial laws in the area.

*           *           *            *          *

And the rest, as the cliche goes, "is history".

Where the hell is Duckbutt? I set him out an hour ago for pizza and he isn't back yet! I knew I should have pinned a note to his shirt, or at least tucked a few stamps in his pocket so somebody could mail him back if they found him. Dang janitor!

Lotsa good stuff in these old CPT's. Think I'll run a second installment of "WCE history" in the Winter Issue.Meanwhile, we'll head out and see what the intrepid private investigator Mike Brakehart is doing:

The Spiral View

Chapter 2

Nick Suratoa was a rarity among security officials. Instead of getting the job the customary way as a discharged veteran, he was hired right out of the Academy.When Little Creek got dismantled, Clove hired him to take over for the retiring Head of Security.

Suratoa played the role of a police executive like he was running for election. He was a shade taller than me, with a physique that came from spending long hours at the fitness center. He wore custom-tailored clothes, a thorlium-plated laser pistol that was probably never used, and no sense of humor. Naturally, we didn't get along.

Suratoa showed up in his official flitter along with his usual escorts. The leather-jacket Security types made themselves look busier. He stepped out, immaculately dressed on a tailored black one-piece and jacket. A white longcoat was casually draped over his shoulders. I though of asking him where his crown was, but I kept my mouth shut. Instead. I stood there and cooled my heels, watching the cops did their thing. Finally Suratoa detached himself from his entourage and sauntered over to me.

"I thought this might involve you," he said through even white teeth as he looked around, "looks like your kind of neighborhood."

"Yeah," I answered him lazily, "I figured you haven't made the vid-news lately, so I threw some business your way." His grin dropped a fraction.

"Mind telling me what you were doing out here?"

"Sure. I was doing a tail job for a client," I lied, "I went into a building looking for a shortcut. Somebody knocked me over the head."

"And woke up next to a dead man," Suratoa sneered, "doesn't exactly sound too professional to me." I shrugged.

"Happens sometimes when you work for a living, Nick." The cop's tanned face darkened a few shades.

"You're awfully cocky, Brakehart. Especially for a clown who's a murder suspect."

"Cool your thrusters, Nick!" I retorted, "if you've got a charge, then arrest me so I can call a lawyer. Ottto Bongwater loves a good fight once in a while, especially against the SSL." Suratoa gave me the evil eye for a few minutes, then stormed off. One of the laboratory types, an elderly guy named Harn Entle saw me and shuffled over, a smile on his wrinkled face.

"Hullo, Mike! Where ya been? Don't see you at headquarters anymore."

"Guess I'm not invited." I gestured at Suratoa.

"That idiot?" Harn snorted, "Screw him. The Colonel left you a standing invite. As far as I'm concerned it still stands."

"Thanks," I grinned, "What can you tell me about the dead man?" Harn stood there for a second scratching his bald spot.

"Well, there's some massive internal damage. Professionally speaking, looks like he'd been worked over real methodical- like."

"Torture or a ritual killing?"

"Too soon to tell. Let me do some work and I can give you an answer. Tell you what-stop in the lab in a day or so. I'll spring for the coffee."

"Sounds like a deal to me, harn," I replied. He nodded and shuffled back to his cronies. I made my way back to where Suratoa was talking to some newly-arrived reporters.

"Might fine job you're doing here, Mister Suratoa," I said in a loud nasally voice, "can I go home now?"

"Yeah," he growled, "just leave the name of the bar where we can find you." I started to reply but I saw the coroner crew bring out a litter with a body bag on it. Suddenly I didn't want to be in this decaying neighborhood any longer. I decided to let him have the last crack and walked away. 

On the uneventful ride back home, the only thought going through my mind was that Matuba had some explaining to do for this nice, easy job he'd laid on me.

*           *           *            *          *

Speaking of explaining, Maddie's got some to do. She was supposed to have a "Dear Maddie" installment for this issue, but it looks like she ducked it (pun intended). Oh, quit groaning! Looks like there's other people besides me looking for her:

dear mr hedd;

we would like to introduce ourselves. we are a civilization of intelligent rocks in a backwater section of known space.  news travels slow out here, so we did not hear that you were the new editor until a few weeks ago, when the last two issues of the bone finally showed up.  imagine the surprise when we heard that ms. mallard decided to leave the nest and go elsewhere. we hope you will continue to put out the bone.

as you might have heard, there is very little in the way of entertainment on our planet, especially in the autumn.  at least in the spring we can get a rockslide going for our amusement.  in the meantime, we usually like to read the bone aloud to each other, saving the good parts until after the younger rocks have gone to bed.

well this letter has gone on long enough; our typists are going to be sore from jumping up and down on the keys.  please continue to put out the bone and say hello to maddie if you see her.

                                                                                                                      sincerely,

                                                                                                                      a bunch of intelligent rocks

p.s don't let the moss grow on you.

I knew Maddie had some "different" pen pals, but this takes the cake! Yeah, guys, I'll say hello to The Bird the next time I see her! Hey, send me a story the next time you write.

LOST AND FOUND - CHAPTER 6

Jaelle had just finished with her sonic shower, which was always invigorating in the morning. She removed her ear protection and goggles and reached outside her refresher door for her uniform. As she did, she heard a subtle cough and responded by saying "Sarah, is that you?"

"No, M'am, it's O'Leary", came the gruff reply.

"Sean, turn around or get out while I get dressed!" Jaelle snapped with equal gruffness. "And why are you here in my private quarters unannounced?"

"Well, Sarah is off gathering that information you need for your first meeting this morning", O'Leary explained. "Michel just left, since I told him I'd guard you until the next shift comes on in five minutes, and I have some information for you that I thought couldn't wait."

"It couldn't be that important, O'Leary - or could it?" Jaelle inquired, starting the sentence with an irritation that changed to confusion as she studied his expression.

Sean seemed to be struggling with several responses for a moment, and then simply stated "John's here, and I just came back from seeing him."

"What?" Jaelle exclaimed with a start. "Do you mean John's here?"

" Are you sure you wore your ear protection in that shower?" Sean retorted tartly. "That is just what I said, after all!"

Jaelle barely heard him and did not respond; she was moving too fast toward the door of her private office. She punched the intercom button for Security, not bothering to key in the chief's private line, and snarled, "Get me Jack Killian on the double, or the lot of you are in for a transfer to Ekill!"

"Yes Sir - er, I mean yes M'am!" came the excited response, as the person receiving the call recognized her voice. "Right away, M'am!" The line remained open and hurried footsteps could be heard fading into the background. A few moments later two sets of boots were heard approaching the panel at a run. "Killian here!" Jack announced.

Jaelle snapped at him, "Find out why I wasn't notified that the IND Centurion entered orbit, let alone landed in this starport. Didn't I give you orders to do both?" She didn't even give him a chance to respond before she severed the communications link.

Jack called her back a few minutes later. "We failed to noticed the Centurion's arrival because it is no longer IND", he explained. "The AFT Centurion is the ship that landed. Ground Control reported that the AFT Undersecretary for Extreme Measures is the starcaptain. Only the computers caught the fact that this coordinator and John McGregor are one and the same. It's a slip that won't happen again; we've already rewritten the programs to catch and flag all pertinent data to Ground Control from now on." Then he asked, justifiably miffed, "Does that answer your question, Madame Periphery Director?"

As it had expected it to, his use of her full title restored her perspective, and she responded in a more controlled voice, "Yes, Jack, that is what I wanted to know; thank you. But you really don't need to be so officious. Elhayln out."

At that moment, Sean chimed in, "By the way, he sent you a note."

Jaelle was off on a tantrum again, screaming at O'Leary for being slack in his duties to her and chastising him extremely over the fact that she always had to drag information out of him, piece by infinitesimal piece. He finally threw the note on the bed and left, yelling over his shoulder something about not needing this abuse - she wasn't even his wife and it was his day off to boot. She heard his mumbling as she dived toward the bed. She was so anxious to open the note she tore it and had to read it in two sections.

"Jaelle,

I would very much like to dine with you this evening if at all possible. The hour and location I leave you to determine at your convenience. We need to talk about the events of the past few months. If nothing else, would you have me dine alone on my 30th birthday? Notify me if you can or cannot, and I will understand even if you would rather not.

John"

Jaelle thought about his note and re-read it several times over. Moving to her private stock of parchment, she took out a sheet and scribbled a reply. She read it thoughtfully, and then threw it away. A few minutes later, she called Sarah in to bring her more parchment and to cancel her first appointment of the day. After several more tries, she had something on paper that she could live with; there was just too much to say for a note to express. Her note read:

"Charley's back room, 2000 hours. Happy Birthday and best wishes on the day and always.

Jaelle"

She put the note into an officious outer envelope, and then called security and made arrangements to have the note delivered. They were only too happy to comply.

Once the note was out of her hands, Jaelle pondered what she had just done, and what arrangements she should make, for quite awhile. Then she considered what to do about Sarah, her personal assistant, who had been outraged by John's defection and could not be trusted with the knowledge that he was back. Eventually, she had Sarah cancel the rest of here appointments for the morning and sent her off on some more detailed research for a meeting the next day. Then she started working on the needed arrangements herself.

The easiest part was getting Charley to clear the back room for the night. It took considerably more time and diplomacy to convince the chef that she really needed simple food with a flexible serving schedule; after much discussion. though, they came to an acceptable compromise. Then she tackled the trickiest job - apologizing to Jack Killian sincerely enough to gain his cooperation.  Jack did accept her apology readily, since the understood the cause of her uncharacteristic temper, but she could not convince him that seeing John again was in her best interest. Since he was so uncomfortable with the idea, the two of then agreed that Jack would take the necessary steps to keep Michel Triant out of John's way and that the rest of the security arrangements would be made through Sean O'Leary.

Jaelle had no doubt that Sean had taken John apart verbally for his recent misbehavior, and that he would have done more if she hadn't broken his wrist in a recent practice session. However, she also realized that he knew more about the situation she found herself in than Jack did, and that he would support and encourage any relationship that would give John the stability and security he so desperately needed. She suspected, correctly, that he'd even be willing to work on his day off, and he accepted her apology as a matter of course. Sean's only request, when she asked for his help, was that she give John some of the hard time he so richly deserved. When she promised that she would certainly do that, if it seemed appropriate, he cheerfully accepted the rather bizarre precautions she suggested and went of to discuss them with Charley, humming a drinking song. Jaelle watched him go with fond amusement, and then, since she had done all she could for the moment, she calmly went back to work for the rest of the day.

At the hour she had specified, Sean O'Leary led John McGregor through Checkpoint Charley's secluded and secure private entrance. The interior staircase was guarded by more of the large teddy-bear like aliens who had apparently been playing games next to the landing pad on the building's roof. Sean explained the Terox on the way down, then let John through a door that had been expertly blended into the rough surface of the wall and shut it carefully behind him. John's immediate impression of the large room was that it was a zoo. In addition to the three Terox guarding the entrances, there were two huge cats and what appeared to be several young wolves scattered about the room. The only human occupant was Jaelle, who was curled up in an oversized armchair in one of the nearer alcoves, apparently deep in thought.

John stood just inside the door for a few moments without moving, studying Jaelle carefully in an attempt to discover how she felt. He had long since admitted to himself that he was nervous about seeing her again, and the note she had sent him had not changed that, since it had been carefully written to be a neutral acceptance of his invitation. Her appearance now still didn't give him any clues, except to confirm that she was as attractive as he remembered her. She was also demonstrating that she was as adaptable as he suspected she was, since she appeared to be completely at home with her rather unorthodox surroundings. Even the dress she was wearing, which was a deep forest green trimmed with black, gold, and copper embroidery, seemed perfect for her, the occasion and the surroundings. Jaelle was also, at least outwardly, completely relaxed, though John suspected, and hoped, that this impression was at least partially false.

He was right. Jaelle was far more apprehensive than she appeared to be, although she knew she was in control of the situation. She had a little more knowledge of  how things probably stood than John did, but that did not necessarily help any. Instead, it heightened her awareness of how valuable, and how fragile, the relationship between them was. She had done everything she could to encourage the re-establishment of mutual respect and understanding on carefully chosen neutral ground; she was also emotionally prepared (she hoped) for any number of possible responses from John. One thing that she did expect was that John would use his rather off-beat sense of humor as protection, just as she was using her ability to project an aura of calm control as a shield.

She looked up at him and smiled when she became aware of him, and said "Welcome back, John. Come on in; none of my friends will bite, and neither will I." One of the huge cats padded up to him inquisitively at the same time, so she continued "Your first obstacle there is Constantine; he's one of the Alaskan sabertooth Tigers raised as companions and guardians by the Prehistoric Beast Company. He and his sister Cleopatra don't belong to me, but we share enough of a bond to make them excellent protection. These ladies and gentlemen,", she went on, indicating the doglike creatures, "are starwolves from the same genetic labs. They haven't told me their names yet, but their empathic bonding is exclusively with me. As long as your feelings toward me are friendly, all you have to do to come and sit down is to start scratching behind ears and under chins."

John continued to hesitate by the door while he studied the scene for a few moments, however. Jaelle certainly didn't mind, since she took the opportunity to study him. She hadn't quite expected him to appear wearing a full dress uniform, much less one that made him appear to be a dashing ,aristocratic and romantic officer from old earth's legendary past, but she had to admit that she liked it. For one thing, the bavarian blue tunic, trimmed with silver frogging and silver buttons, matched John's eyes almost perfectly. That was a nice touch, and the tight white pants and nicely polished black boots, which actually extended to mid-thigh, weren't bad either. The huge white greatcoat trimmed with silver buttons and a standing bavarian blue collar which he had thrown over his shoulders the ceremonial helmet and white leather gloves he carried completed a very appealing picture. Jaelle definitely approved, but she decided not to comment on that yet.

If John was aware of Jaelle's scrutiny, he gave no sign of it. Once he was sure that he understood the situation, he simply broke the ice by saying "I take it that you trust your friends here more than human security, especially after that restaurant escapade."

Jaelle raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, and then admitted "It's quite true that if a starwolf, a sabertooth or a Terox had been on that roof with us that night you would not have been the one who needed a doctor."

"I'll have to mention that fact to Jack the next time I see him," John mused as he considered the assertion.

Jaelle responded, as he had hoped, with more spirit "Don't tell Jack things like that - I have enough trouble with him already!"

John relaxed a little at that, but apparently couldn't resist following through. "Even Jack would agree that these friends may be dangerous, but they're also more dependable. There's no chance that any of them will run off and become pirates - they're more sensible and sensitive, than that!"

By this time John had advanced into the room slightly, although it appeared that he might still be ready to make a quick exit, and found himself accosted by two of the starwolves. He petted them absently, pleased that they seemed to like him, while he waited for Jaelle's reaction. She was sitting with her eyes closed, evidently giving the correct answer careful thought.

When she opened her eyes again, she gave him a look that very clearly said you said that, I didn't,and said "Fortunately for them, they've never had to deal with the mazes of human politics or the vagaries of human nature". She paused to give that though time to register, and then went on "What matters now, though, is that this visit is personal and private, and it occurred to me that it might be easier for both of us without the usual entourage. These guards won't inhibit us, or report on us, and Sean and Jack do consider them adequately effective. Jack has has men in Charley's office, however, and Sean has more strategically placed out front,so if this arrangement makes you uncomfortable we can always call them in. It's your decision."

"When you put it that way, I believe I can learn to love tigers and starwolves", John responded, reassured by her reasonable and apparently friendly reaction. "Scratch behind the ears, you said?"

When she nodded, he complied; it took him awhile, but he finally managed to make his way past cats and dogs to the chair beside her. They simply sat studying each other for a few minutes, until Jaelle broke the silence by commenting :Happy Birthday, John - I'm glad you wanted me to celebrate with you. And I must say, you do look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you."

"I didn't think I looked that bad the last night we were together - at least I heard no complaints at the time", John replied, giving her a toothy smile.

Jaelle returned a wicked grin of her own before she pointed out "I did say the last time I saw you, not the last time we were together, didn't I?"

"Yes, that is what you said," John acknowledged, obviously puzzled. "My dear, at time you are as confusing as you are beautiful. Now that I've turned thirty, it seems that I'm growing forgetful. When did we --- no it couldn't be --- what's directly behind the door from the bridge into the wardroom on the Centurion?"

"The bookshelves that hold your collection of ancient literature",  Jaelle answered without the slightest hesitation.

John managed to keep his jaw from dropping too noticeably as he realized she actually had been in his wardroom, and said "Jaelle, I don't know how you did that, and I hope that before this evening is over you'll explain it to me. But for now, do you think you could give a poor old man a stiff drink?" As he spoke, he lapsed absently into a deep Scottish brogue.

Jaelle ignored that development, however, and said in a tone that was pure mischief, "That's always possible at Charley's; but tell me, did you bring any of that 50-year-old scotch back?"

John reacted with a chuckle, but answered her gravely, "Nay, my good woman - such ambrosia is reserved for weddings or wakes."

"Well, then, what would you like?" Jaelle asked.

John answered her, and Jaelle acknowledged his request as she stood up and walked over to the divided door set un- obtrusively into the far wall. She knocked on it softly twice and then stepped back to let the top half open. Charley himself stood there, looking expectant.

"Hi, Charley!" Jaelle said, as if she were talking to a good friend. " We have a small problem I hope you can help us with - John says he needs a drink - something wet and strong that will still leave him coherent. Is that possible?"

Charley smiled and responded in an equally friendly manner "Sure, Jae, anything for you. I think I have just the thing. And I suppose you want the usual?"

"The usual will be fine Charley - thanks!" Jaelle confirmed and then returned to her seat.

John had been watching the scene with interest, and had not failed to notice the easy friendship between Jaelle and Charley. he chose not to comment on it, but his curiosity did get the better of him after a moment and he asked "Have you and Charley known each other long?"

She flashed him an impish grin, apparently pleased by his interest, as she answered, "We've known each other since Charley arrived here, which was shortly after I did. Apparently Charley's chosen role in life is to provide a refuge to those who really need one, and occasionally I do call upon his services. We have become good friends as a result." when he seemed about to ask another question, she went on "And what he called me is Jae, which is not so much of a nickname as an alias. Everyone who comes here more than once or twice ends up using one; I think it's a holdover from the days when this back room was more or less a smuggler's haven, and knowing who anyone else really was could have been dangerous. It's more like a harmless affectation now, but it's also fun."

They looked up to see Charley standing there holding a tray with two glasses on it. He must have overheard at least part of her explanation, but he gave no sign of it. He simply handed John a tall glass which contained a dark blue, fizzing liquid, handed Jaelle a frosty goblet which appeared to contain orange juice, and then left without saying a word.

John studied the glass in his hand doubtfully, and then asked "Do you know what this is, by any chance?"

"No I don't", Jaelle admitted, still amused, "but I can assure you that if Charley thinks it will meet your requirements it will. And it's guaranteed to taste good, too."

John tried it, and discovered that Jaelle was right. Whatever it was, it was delicious, potent, and dissipated the shock he felt on discovering that Jaelle had actually visited him without impairing his ability to think clearly. It also made him feel very warm and relaxed. After he had savored a few sips of it, he started making the called for small talk by asking Jaelle a series of lively and interested questions about Charley's establishment and the sometimes strange things that went on there. And eventually, as if he just could not help himself and thought she might expect it, he asked "Well, Jaelle, are you going to wine and dine me, or just wine me?"

The question, as he hoped it would, caused Jaelle to laugh. When she had regained enough breath to talk again, she muttered something that sounded like "My mother was wrong - men apparently have two things on their minds!"

John looked thoughtfully at his nearly empty glass, and then commented "And some Scotsmen have three" in apparent agreement.

Jaelle evidently chose to ignore him as she walked over to a nearby table and came back with a picnic basket and a cooler. She explained that she thought that extra people and unnecessary structure might prove to be awkward. The picnic basket contained a loaf of just baked french bread, sausage, cheeses, fresh fruit, and of course, an appropriate wine. The cooler contained a simple, elegant dessert made of fresh, creamy custard and more fruit; he recognized most of the ten or twelve kinds the chef had used. By this time John had grown used to the unexpected and found her assumption that he wouldn't mind such informality delightful. If he also suspected that Jaelle was deliberately trying not to recreate their first meeting, he kept it to himself. He seemed to be concentrating, instead, on keeping up the small talk despite Jaelle's attempts to turn the conversation toward serious subjects.

In fact, by the time they had finished the meal Jaelle was beginning to feel as if she was taking part in a treaty negotiating session. every time she had brought up a serious subject that was important to her, John misdirected her with the skill of a trained diplomat. Anything she said reminded him of a question he just had to ask her or an acquaintance or a memory he just had to share with her. When words failed, minor accidents started to occur - glasses were overturned or food was dropped with exquisite timing. When the last of the dessert had disappeared, in one way or another, Jaelle finally asked, in total frustration, 'Do you feel like dancing, John?"

John appeared surprised by that question and answered, sounding confused, "No, I don't - maybe it's a good idea for another time. But why do you ask?"

"Because you've been dancing around every serious subject I've brought up all night!" Jaelle almost snapped at him, finally letting her irritation show. "I thought you came back so we could work things out between us, but we have no chance of that if you refuse to talk about them."

"You're right, of course", John said, looking properly chastized, "we do have to talk about several things. I guess the truth is that I find the prospect very uncomfortable, and I'd rather not do it in here. Is there somewhere else we can go to to have a serious discussion?"

"Of course there is" Jaelle replied. "Just let me alert the troops that we're moving." She signaled to a Terox  who was standing at a discreet distance away; the huge creature disappeared, and a moment later Sean appeared in the doorway.

He was just in time to see John stand up and move around the table to offer his hand to Jaelle. She took it and rose, prompting Sean to comment "I agree that it's time for you to go back to headquarters, but do you have to take that scoundrel with you?" Although he was attempting to sound disgusted, the twinkle in his eyes and the hint of laughter he couldn't keep out of his tone betrayed the fact that he was only teasing.

"How else am I supposed to find out if the scoundrel is reformed. Sean?" Jaelle asked in return, her manner and tone similar to his. "Of course I'm taking him with me; however, if it makes you feel better I'll take the cats along too." She winked at him as she said it; Sean had been around the tigers long enough to to realize that they were intelligent, empathic, and very much prone to encourage friendships between apparently interested humans.

Sean looked from John to Jaelle, shaking his head at her as if he was worried that she had lost her mind, and said "Well, then, let's go. You may be crazy, but you do sign the checks, my lady." John gave Sean an innocent, pained look that seemed to ask Who, me? and Constantine walked up behind Jaelle and pushed her gently. Jaelle laughed and followed Sean toward the door, escorted by John and the two huge tigers.

By the time they had climbed the stairs to the roof, the Terox guards had been joined by a squad of Imperial marines and a fleet of shuttles piloted by ISS security men in uniform and with weapons in plain sight. Jaelle surveyed this scene for a moment, then turned to Sean with an exasperated sigh and said "I know that you take your job seriously, O' Leary, but don't you think that all this is going just a little too far?"

Sean, for his part, looked about as exasperated as Jaelle felt. "Believe me, my lady", he said, "this isn't my idea. Jack Killian seems to have taken a real dislike to your running around on rooftops with anything less than an army. I personally have perfect faith in the company you're keeping." He lowered his voice when he made that last comment, as if he had not wanted John to hear him.

John evidently did hear him, however, because he sauntered up to where Jaelle and Sean were standing and asked Jaelle "You do remember the last time you and I were on a restaurant rooftop together, don't you?"

Jaelle's only response to that was "How could I forget?"

Apparently unsatisfied with that, John touched his left shoulder and winced teasingly as he said "I know I never will!"

Jaelle glanced at him quickly to make sure he was not serious, and then rolled her eyes heavenward as she exclaimed "And obviously I won't ever forget either, since you won't let me!"

John helped Jaelle into a shuttle that Sean chose at random, and then got in himself. As Sean approached, John took a coin from the inner pocket of his uniform tunic and flipped it to him, saying "Thank you, my good man!" Sean caught the coin and gave John a puzzled and then amused look as he started to board the shuttle himself, only to have his way blocked by Constantine, who had ploughed in behind John. Sean could be heard making several comments in Gaelic as the shuttle started to move - although Jaelle could not understand them, the tone made it clear that they probably concerned a certain Admiral's parentage, and the tiger's (or perhaps the impossible behavior of insane Periphery Directors). Once again, his tone made it quite clear that he wasn't really serious.

Rather than landing on the roof of the headquarters building as John expected them to, the shuttles landed in the ground pad near the huge tower's guest wing. When he asked her what was going on, Jaelle looked distinctly uncomfortable and explained hesitantly "Well, John, the only thing accessible from the roof is my personal apartment, which includes the ISS Periphery Director's private office."

She was obviously unwilling to elaborate further, and John chose to consider the implications of that statement silently as well. Finally, after an awkward silence, he asked "Since I've been there before, does this mean that I'm no longer trustworthy to go there now?"

"As far as I'm concerned, John, you'll always be totally trustworthy, and I cab't imagine that ever changing on a personal level. However, I'm sure that you realize as well as I do that our professional relationship has changed - we are no longer playing on the same team. That new uniform of yours is quite impressive, and you are justifiably proud of it, but it is also obviously not Imperial, and that, my friend, gives us a problem." She paused for a moment to see how John would react to that; when he did not, she went on "Unfortunately, there are some things that the ISS Periphery Director simply cannot do, and one of those things is even appearing to give anyone without the proper security clearance possible access to sensitive information. We can discuss this problem in more detail later, if you think it's necessary, but I don't believe that this is the right time or place."

She obviously hoped that John would agree with that assessment of the situation, and made no attempt to hide her relief when he appeared to do just that. He made no further serious comment as the left the shuttle and she led him (and the rest of the entourage) up to one of the guest suites on the floor below the penthouse.

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And so goes another long-awaited chapter from the romantic "MACGREGOR SAGA"! Speaking of romances, maybe I ought to add a gossip columnist to the staff. Nah. I'll get by on what's scribbled on the wall by the pay phone.

Got this announcement from the AFT Public Relations office. Thanks to the AFT's P.D., (drunken editorial rambling, my ass!) I was ready to give it the ol' heave ho. But seeing it was from the AFT's "new blood"...

Week 43, 192 - The Association of Free Traders announced the formation of a new independent company, Jikar Industries. At a following press conference, a Jikar Industries spokesman promised that the new company would work to further AFT goals.

In addition, the Aft announced that Lester Jikar would be the new colony governor at AFT Cambridge. Lester is the third Jikar family member to enter AFT service in the Periphery; uncles Nathan and Abram are AFT starship captains. The new governor promised to revitalize Cambridge and expand its market. A few sample prices on the newly expanded Cambridge Market Report are:

Colonists: "Selling" 1000 for *1 each

Metals/Nonmetals: selling 20,000 for *1 each

Fissionables: Buying 400 for *5 each

AFT Cambridge is located on New Boston in the Forus system.

Always happy to help out the BSE economy, what little there is.

Lest you think this rag is culturally unsophisticated, we're gonna throw in a bit of poetry found whilst perusing an old CPT:

RIP INTERSTELLAR ANTHEM

We are the RIP, and we are Bad,

We give you some advice, don't make us mad.

We fight for loot, we fight for gold,

We fight for anything that can be sold.

We are great warriors, the Universe's bane,

We are not crazy, just a little insane.

We live to die, we die to live,

We never surrender, we never forgive.

We take no prisoners, we spare no lives,

We don't give a damn about your kids or your wives.

We are rolling thunder, fire and rain,

We give you death, defeat, and pain.

We don't care if you're Admiral, Per. Director or VIP,

We are pirates primeval, WE ARE THE RIP!

Just gets the ol' blood flowing, eh? Wish we had that for our RIPathon!

Well, my little spacefarers, another Bone bites the dust and another's in the works. RADman's promised me a boffo Christmas issue, and he'd better after welshing out on this one. We'll have an Ole Jensen interview (promise), "Dear Maddie" returns, a remake of "Beau Geste", BSE-style, and what to do with the sex toys you get for Christmas.

Of course we're always ready for literary or not contributions. Send them all to: [old and invalid address deleted].

Until then, your friendly ABM reminds you to "Keep them turn fees coming!!!"