Miami Pete 17:

In the time I'd been aboard the Haul-o-caster, we had been boarded a number of times with varying levels of intrusion from outright fascist, boots on our necks, weapons pointed at the back of our heads, to on Vale Thee a bored inspector with a couple vaguely coherent guards taking a quick peek at our cargo to make sure... well, I'm not sure what they were looking for.  I could have smuggled practically anything onto Vale three with that lackadaisical oversight. Pete, however, had one overriding rule.  Anything that might get us into any real trouble either stayed well hidden, or it simply wasn’t allowed on board.  I think it was because the Haul-o-caster had been a known smuggler ship way back before my time and we often attracted more than our fair share of scrutiny.

What I didn't expect was grandfatherly plump bald man in what I guessed was a Morganite uniform of some kind, flanked by a couple of very intense, heavily armed and armored Stormtroopers, carrying a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses.  I recognized the whiskey bottle.  It was one of Pete's favorite whiskeys.  Not being interested, I had never bothered to ask where he got it from.  Pete always kept a stash of it, well protected in a stout shipping container, in a corner of the cargo bay.  I guess now I knew.

"Who's in charge of the ship?"  He asked.  He had a loud, commanding voice, but I didn't get the impression he was demanding answers.  More like he was used to command and didn't dial-down very easy.

"That would be me sir."  I replied.  I couldn't help but notice Al in my periphery move like he was about to claim it was him, but I beat him to it.  I would have to have a talk with him.  It looked like our visitor also noticed.

"I am Admiral Thomas, acting commander of MSS Vanguard, and fleet commander of Morganite task force Bravo." He said.

"I'm Captain... um... Petra, of the free trader Haul-o-caster."  I replied.   I hadn't decided whether to use the name that Gregorious had given me or not, and I was all set to declare myself Captain Kid, but it just seemed so cheesy.  "Captain Kid!!! Into the INFINITE VOID!!!" my imagination poked at me from the imaginary vid advertisement.

"Ok, Captain, um, Petra." He seemed amused.  "Can you tell me about your crew?  I like to know who I'm talking to." He pointedly looked towards Al, then scanned towards Grace.  When his eyes reached Grace, both eyebrows raised and he looked a little disconcerted.  "And if that is what I think it is, please have her confined to her quarters for the moment. Because of our unique relationship with Miami Pete, the Haul-o-caster has always enjoyed some lee-way here in Morgan's, but bringing one of those here is pushing it a little far, don't you think?"

"Admiral Thomas, these aren't my crew.  I merely rescued the pair of them from the station before it was destroyed."  I answered.  "This is Al and Grace, both formerly of the trader Pride of Rome.  They were knocking on my hatch with a message from Captain Gregorious when the attack happened. The concourse was hit and started to depressurize, so I offered them shelter.  A few minutes later, we saw the Pride of Roam destroyed.  Since I came strait here, I haven't had a chance to drop them anywhere.  Yet.  And as far as I'm concerned, both of them can go sit in their cabins."

"but..."  Al tried to complain, but I cut him off.

"Now!" I said strongly. "This is ship's business, and you aren't part of the ship.  You aren't even paying passengers!  Go!"

Grace saved us all some more strife by grasping Al by the arm and all but towing him down the corridor towards their cabins.

"I have half a mind to order those two shot." came a quiet statement from the Admiral, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than to me. Admiral Thomas looked at me apologetically. "But, this is your ship Captain and I'm not here to interfere.  You must know, however, that those two won't be allowed to leave your ship while you are in Morgan's.  Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."  I couldn't help but notice that I was calling this man "sir" a lot, which isn't very much like me.  I rarely even called Pete sir, and usually then it was to emphasize that I thought he was being an idiot.

"Now for why I wanted to come aboard.  I'll be mother!"  The Admiral opened the bottle of whiskey he had been carrying, and poured a good bit of whiskey into two cups.  Handing me one of the cups he toasted, "To Miami Pete!"

We drank, I wasn’t about to refuse a toast to Pete.  I sputtered and coughed as usual.  The Admiral patted my back till I could get a good breath.

"Smooth, huh?"  He said with a smile.

"Yea, something like that."  I croaked.  Whiskey really wasn't my thing.

"Now you must tell me, what happened to my friend Pete?  Last I heard he was tracking down a lead on something that was stirring up the 'rus cult."

I didn't know how much I could trust the Admiral, but I knew I was out of my depth and needed help and the man did seem to actually have known Pete.  I got the impression by how he spoke to me that he was also at least familiar with me, probably through Pete, So I told him the story.  I didn't cry like a baby this time, so that's an improvement I suppose.

Once I was done, he spoke softly "So, you've come to realize what you are.  That is good.  I always told Pete that he should tell you and get it over with.  Cyborgs are used extensively for certain jobs in Morgan's territory.  Pete brought you here for repair shortly after he... ah... Acquired you.  Your probably don’t remember that, you had been shot in the head when Pete found you.  We felt like we owed him that much since we were the ones who sent the crew of the Haul-o-caster to Deltos to retrieve Dr. Basil, the cyberneticist that created you.  We were aware of her work and wanted her for our criminal corrections division.  Unfortunately, the corporation somehow found out they were coming.”

"You use the cyber devices as punishment?"  I was sick to my stomach.  "That seems cruel."  I knew, on a level, that was what happened to me, although my memories from before were hazy and disjointed.  I couldn't imagine a society that did that to people and considered it normal.

The Admiral seemed to understand, "It's not something we like to do, and it is fairly rare." he explained. "In most places, the people who go into our cyber re-habilitation program would be executed.  Murderers, rapists, killers.  With our program, they get to make a contribution to society and perhaps make up for the wrong they have done.  We've even been working on ways to make a cyber device that is reversible, for cases that are later found out to be mistaken rare though they are.  We haven't succeeded yet, but we've been recruiting non-conventional cyberneticists in hopes that someone will make it work."

“Were you the one that sent Pete to make contact with those ‘rus monks?” I asked.  I had to know.

“No.  Pete has done a number of jobs for us over the years, and I admit that I was aware of what he was investigating and was ready to pay for whatever information he uncovered - I like to stay informed - but he wasn’t investigating at my request.”  He replied.