graf of grafmanitou

I’m sitting beneath a great mantle of stones and ice, rings around a violet gas giant in a system I thought had never before been visited by Man.

How naïve.

In my hold sit six computer cores I’ve scooped up nearby after stopping to investigate distinctly unnatural scraps of metal and plastic. The amber readout Traveler is presenting indicates detailed reports of Federation fleet movements and OOBs. One even provides Fed dockyard specifications for newer capital ship construction. The circuits are clearly Imperial.

If I’m caught with this…

Ok, I’ll head straight for hidey-hole and see if the geezer has an interest. I think I can trust him. I mean the type – this must be worth something to someone out here, and I can just see the cred signs in his eyes. Couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether Feds or Imps blast each other to shit, it’s just one set of rules or another. I’ve got bills to pay, and I’m sure they don’t give a rat’s ass about me!

Supplemental: I met the old man. He gave me a knowing look, but wouldn’t spill, even with a bottle of celebratory Solar single malt split between us. Which I can afford now – he forked over 35,000 creds for the m-intel. Best I could make out, Feds and Imps regularly play the cold war out here in the dark, and in this case someone lost. So I win. Better watch my back and fly cold.