To Nab a Nephew

To Nab a Nephew

aka: Mortimer's Trip

File:Morty Contemplates.jpg

~Prolouge~

An old man sat by a window overlooking Nexus City. It was a decent view, but the old man wasn't looking at the city. He was looking above it. At the Stars. 

Out there, somewhere, was a planet by the name of Militiregnum. A world of wizards, magic, kings and queens, and all things lordly and medieval and whatnot. Or at least, it had been, up until a few months ago, it seemed.

The old man glanced down at the datapad in his hand. Yes. Apparently, the diabolical madman behind the heinous Faction Wars, thedude, had escaped custody and landed on the planet, quickly taking it over with advanced technology, and his evil minions. Foremost among them, a bizarre creature called 'Barney'.

He scrolled through the rest of the Nexus Force report. The planet was now being blockaded by the Force, since they couldn't mount a full scale assault just yet on thedude. Apparently, it hadn't taken long for him to become entrenched, and surveillance suggested that the criminal mastermind was now on a quest to conquer the whole planet.

The man set the datapad down on the dresser with a sigh, and picked up a framed photo depicting his old geezer self in a white labcoat, and a young boy in a green polo.

"Don't worry, Perry, M'boy. Your Uncle is coming."

~Chapter 1~

Mortimer scratched off another number off the list and tapped the next one. The number beamed over from his tablet to his smartphone and began dialing as he shuffled through his sock drawer for actual socks.

Finding a few pairs amid the various knicknackeries, he folded them up tightly and set them inside his rolling suitcase. As he went back for boxers, the phone reached a voicemail.  

"Hello, you've reached Don," said a tired middle-aged male voice. "Leave a name, phone number, and if this is about a trip, your destination or destinations, and I'll get back to you when I can. Bye...."

Just as the phone gave the beep, Mortimer said, "Tesla, Hang up." The phone did. 

Tossing a healthy amount of underwear into the suitcase, he tapped the next number, and dove into his closet for some appropriate travelling clothes.

"Let's see. I'll need something comfortable. However, once I arrive, I may need to be presentable to a certain degree. Especially if I want the help of the local authorities in finding Perry on a planet with no working scientific advancement. The poor souls."  Mortimer paused. "How does that even work?"

Before he could lose himself thinking about that, his phone stopped ringing. 

"He-hello?"

Mortimer jumped, banging his head on the bar on which his clothing hung.

"Fiddlesticks!"

"Hello?"

"Hi! Hullo! Yes! My name is Nathaniel D. Mortimer, and I would like a ride. Ow, that really smarts." Mortimer rubbed his head as he shuffled over to the phone on his bed and picked it up.

The voice on the other end, an female voice, sounded somewhat groggy. "Oh." She muttered something incomprehensible. "Alright. When and where, Sir?"

"Well, you're not going to like either of those, so let me start off that I'm going to reimburse you very well. 10,000 U-coins.

There was silence on the other end. Mortimer kept his sighing internal and answered the first question.

"As soon as possible, I'd like to go to the Militiregnum System."

The line remained quiet, and then all sound was cut. He pulled the phone away from his ear. No, he had not been hung up on. Suddenly, the background static reappeared. "Please hold, sir." The line went quiet.

'I've been put on mute,' Mortimer realized.  He set the phone down and continued to pack his suitcase.  

A minute or two later, the phone crackled again. "Mr. Mortimer, sir?"

"Yes, I'm here!" Mortimer said, nearly finished with his suitcase, and packing a smaller duffle-bag with other items he thought he could use for his trip.

A deep breath. "I can take you to the Militiregnum system, but I won't be challenging any blockades. If we run into resistance, no amount of money will make me risk my life or yours, ok?"

"Smart girl!" Mortimer yelled before thinking. "Um. I mean, yes, that makes perfect sense, my dear."

"Good. Meet me in Nexus Tower, tomorrow morning, 0800 hours. Hanger level 93d. Ask for Fiona, that's me."

"Wonderful! Thank you, Fiona! I'll be there!"

"See you there, Sir." She hung up.

Grinning, Mortimer said, "48th time's the charm!"  

He checked his suitcase and duffle-bag. What else would he need? He'd already gotten the essentials: Clothes, hygiene, medications. Self defense.

"No. Wait. My taser might not work on the planet," Mortimer realized.  "What to do... What to do..."

'Well, ' he thought. 'I could still use it for there and back.' He packed his tablet and slipped his phone in his pocket. Considering the medieval setting, Mortimer wondered what sort of backup he could use... 

He decided to think about it, as he finished putting everything else in order. The newspaper was cancelled, his neighbor would house-visit for the mail and his cat Giblett, and the basement would be locked up and everything in there would be stable and not explode. 

Walking in on Peragrine's room to make sure everything was in order, he saw an old slingshot on his Nephew's dresser.

"Bingo!" Mortimer knew what barbaric form of self defense he would use.  A souped-up Slingshot. Already, his mind began drafting an invention that quickly became something between a crossbow and a slingshot. He rushed downstairs to see if he could gather the materials, since there wasn't enough time to make it before tomorrow.

~Chapter 2~

Mortimer arrived in Nexus Tower at 8:00 am. At 8:15, he arrived on the 93rd floor, breathless with his luggage. A rolling suitcase, a duffle-bag, a slim backpack, and a fanny pack. This was without mentioning his very long brown overcoat with innumerable pockets, stuffed with their own items.

Stopping a passing Janitor with a sweaty hand, he asked breathlessly, "I'm...Fiona Flights?"

The Janitor seemed offended to be stopped from his work, but pointed a finger into the hanger beyond and said "Bay 30 today. You're late."

"Tell me something I don't know!" Mortimer cried, his face smiling, but his eyes in panic, as he and his bundles took off.

The Janitor yelled back something, but all Mortimer heard was something about 'coming back ever again'.  He paid it no heed as he rushed past the huge bays with their big blue numbers painted over each one. The numbers started at one and alternated down the way.

Running down the hanger's length, Mortimer saw a small, younger-looking, red-haired girl dressed in a mechanic's coveralls. She was talking with a man who appeared to be about the same age, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, with rolled up sleeves. He was a full head and shoulders taller. They were walking towards him, but did not immediately look up at him, as the woman seemed irritated, and was going off about something. The man simply nodded, and listened.

"Oh dear." Mortimer thought aloud.  Was this Fiona?

A moment later, the two noticed the hustling old man. "Oh no," Mortimer saw her mouth. She turned to the man, who seemed to agree with whatever she said. Coming into conversation range, Mortimer said, "Hullo! You wouldn't happen to be Miss Fiona, the woman I spoke to on the phone last night?" He stuck a free hand out.

The woman attempted to put her irritation behind a professional facade, as she shook his hand, but for Mortimer, it didn't work.

"Yes. And you must be none other than Mr. Mortimer."

"Guilty as charged!" he chuckled. He glanced nervously up at the man next to her. "Who might this stud be?" Up close he was even more intimidating, as Mortimer found that the man (unsurprisingly) dwarfed his own height, which he considered average. 

'Then again, age and my time bent over a tinkerer's desk hasn't helped that.' He reasoned.

The man was about to respond, but Fiona answered before he could.

"Oh, he's my boyfriend." She laid a hand on his arm. Mortimer assumed it was meant for his shoulder, but she wasn't tall enough.

"The name's Tuk," he said, swallowing Mortimer's hand in his own in a bone-crushing handshake.

"Pleased to make both your acquaintances!" Mortimer exclaimed. They both smiled kindly, as a awkward pause quickly began to take root. 

Mortimer wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. "Ahh. I'm terribly sorry I'm late," he said, bending over in exhaustion. "I hope you weren't giving up on me....? Sitting down precariously on his rolling suitcase, he turned on the 'harmless old man' charm, and glanced up at the two.

The two glanced at each other. Mortimer caught it all. The boyfriend's eyes gave her a strengthening, defiant look. The girls were undecided, then in askance. She visibly shrugged, to which he blinked, confused. 

"But, I thought you sai-" he began. 

"I changed my mind," she announced. Turning to Mortimer, she smiled. Genuinely, this time. "Sure, Mr. Mortimer. We'll take you." She turned around and waved a hand back as she walked to bay 30. "Come on."

Mortimer couldn't stop a crinkly smile from spreading across his face. That is, until he saw the big man next to him give him dagger eyes that turned into rolling ones before he jogged to catch up with his girlfriend.

Mortimer watched the big burly man run off after the lithe little lady. Then he looked down at his old frail self and all of his luggage.

Sighing, he muttered, "It's okay, Nathaniel. You're not paying for manners. Only to get there in one piece. After all, I'm sure things will only get rougher when I arrive!"

~Chapter 3~

Fiona's ship was a small and compact affair. Mostly a mass of engines which wrapped around the entire shuttle, tapering slightly towards the front of the ship, which had a full, head to toe bubble canopy windshield.   It had very little armor, and only two laser canons on the fore of the shuttle which he doubted would be any use against anything but asteroids. Mortimer was certain that there wasn't a single spot on the ship that one laser blast wouldn't cause the entire kit and kaboodle to explode in an instant inferno.

Seeing Mortimer's critical eye, Tuk replied. "It may not look like much, but it will get you to where your going in a hurry."

Ahead of them, Fiona pushed a button on a wrist control and the back of the shuttle popped open and lowered itself down, lending itself as a ramp to the cozy interior.  She hurried past the passenger/cargo area and into the two-seater cockpit. Putting on a headset she plopped down in the right Pilot's seat and rapidly went through preflight.

Mortimer stowed his things inside one of the benches on either side of the shuttle, as directed by Tuk. 

"Doesn't it get terribly hot in here with the engines all around us?" Mortimer asked.

Tuk shook his head. "Not really. The ship is so small that the individual engines don't work hard enough to overheat." He scratched his head. "Although we'll certainly give them a workout going into hyperdrive all the way to Militiregnum..." he said.

Mortimer shrugged. Sitting down on the bench, he fished out a few parts of his unfinished slingshot, which was fast becoming a sort of 'any ammo' crossbow. There was the slingshot, and a length of wood that he imagined would rest on his right forearm and help him steady his aim. Taking out a multi-tool from another pocket, he began to tinker with it.

Tuk remained standing. Glancing at the Cockpit, Fiona swiveled her seat around to give him a thumbs up. Then she pointed at Mortimer and rubbed her fingers together, her eyebrows knitting in query.

"Oh. Right." He remembered. "Uh, one thing, Mr. Mortimer."

Mortimer looked up. "Yes?"

"Do you have your payment?"

Mortimer facepalmed. "Ah! Yes, of course." He set aside the contraption and fished through his pockets. It took a few tries, but eventually he found the payment in his left boot. "Half here, and half there, fair?"

Tuk nodded, hefting the payment. They both looked over at the Cockpit, where Fiona was leaning out from her pilot seat. Only then did she go for ignition. 

All around, Mortimer heard the sound of the four main engines coming online. It was like a strangely comforting roar of a big cat.  Not as harsh as a lion. More like a tiger. What was not comforting was the bright, static-like charge he got all over.  He glanced up at Tuk, who was now sitting down on the bench across from him, and strapping himself into the harness on the wall behind him. Mortimer fumbled with his straps and got them on as well.

Apparently, Mortimer decided, the static electricity was normal-ish? He decided not to ask about it.

Since the engines completely encased this rear portion of the shuttle, he didn't get a good view of their departing from Nexus Tower, but pretty soon, he felt them accelerating very rapidly.

"Is this ship equipped with inertial dampeners?" he asked.

Tuk had been staring towards the cockpit, and the limited view. It took him a moment to process Mortimer's question. "Huh? Oh, no, not for sublight. We do have some artificial gravity tiles on the top and bottom back here, but you'll still notice a much lighter gravity than normal once we go into hyperspace. Why, do you get spacesick?" Tuk asked, beginning to reach into a compartment above himself.

Mortimer shook his head. "No, I just haven't been to space in awhile."

Tuk relaxed. "Heh. I can tell. You've packed as if you're moving out."

Mortimer winced. "Perhaps I did overpack.

Suddenly, the engines gave a large whine, and a slight boom announced their transference into hyperspace. Fiona took off her headset, and after flipping a few switches, she stood in the doorway to the rear.

"We're on our way, boys," she announced, as she leaned on the doorframe. "How are you doing, Mr. Mortimer?"

Mortimer glanced at Tuk, who'd unstrapped himself as well, but remained seated.

Mortimer fiddled with his straps, and answered. "Apparently, it's very obvious that I've somehow over- and under- prepared for this trip!" he said, mocking himself. He freed himself just as Tuk got up to intervene. "Aha."

Standing up, he did indeed feel very light. Like a small rock in water. He could easily stand on his toes. "Ah! How novel."

His two hosts smiled. Going over to Tuk, Fiona wrapped an arm around him and hopped up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "We're going to be in hyperspace for awhile," she informed Mortimer. "I hope you have something to pass the time, but if not, we do!" She moved to the wall and pressed a button. An outline in the floor at their feet hissed and the panel rose up to create a table. From it, a holographic interface came up. 

Mortimer grinned. "Actually, I did prepare for that," he said, as he motioned to his unfinished contraption sitting on the bench next to him. "I hope you don't mind my tinkering with it? I promise not to leave a mess, unlike in my workshop at home!" he assured.

Fiona waved a dismissive hand. "A little monkey grease won't hurt it. In fact, go ahead and use the table." She wiped the holographics away with a hand, leaving the metal table bare.

Mortimer was pleased, and it showed. "Ah! Well, Thank you. Don't mind if I do." He pulled out a few tools from his pockets and got to work in earnest with his contraption. Tuk and Fiona inspected the contraption, no doubt trying to figure out what it was. However, after a moment, Fiona patted Tuk on the back. "I'm going to be in the Cockpit, reading," she said. Tuk nodded, before giving her a kiss. "Love you, babe," he said. She smiled roguishly and flitted over to the cockpit.

Smiling to himself, Mortimer said nothing.

Tuk eventually tore his eyes from the cockpit doorway to look at Mortimer's work. "What is it?" he finally asked.

Mortimer barely contained his comment of 'I thought you'd never ask!'.

"It's a ... Well, I suppose it's more of a crossbow now. It started life as my Nephew's slingshot." He said. He picked it up in his right hand and let the unfinished stock rest on his forearm. "I think I'll need a quicker way of pulling it back though. I'm not strong enough to crank it manually like a real crossbow, nor would I want to bend over and cock it with my foot like others."

Tuk frowned. "Wouldn't a gun be better for you then?"

Mortimer nodded. "Yes, but I'm heading down to Militiregnum's surface, where apparently, they don't work. I-"

"Wait, you want to go down to the surface???" Tuk asked, alarmed.

Internally, Mortimer facepalmed. "Well, yes, but-"

Tuk shook his head, and calmly stood up and went over to the Cockpit. "Fiona, we're not taking this guy down to Militiregnum, are we?"

Mortimer heard her reply calmly, but with a hint of exasperation at being interrupted in her reading. "No. I told him that I- we. Wouldn't be challenging any blockades. There's one set up around Milt now." 

Tuk visibly relaxed. "Ok. Good. I'd hate to get stuck on that forsaken mudball."

"You and me both, Tuk."

Tuk nodded, and was about to turn back to Mortimer, but then he leaned back over. "Of course, if you were there, it might not be so bad..."

She laughed, but Mortimer could tell she was already distracted, probably by reading again.  Tuk came and sat back down across from Mortimer, who'd whittled a track into the wood stock and barrel. 

Mortimer muttered to himself. He would need to shape a metal piece specifically for this design. It would fit into the groove, and give him a handle that he could slide back, pulling the sling back.  Once it would click into the latch, then it would fire like a regular crossbow, with a release.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask if you had a welding torch on hand?" he asked.

Tuk glanced at the bench beneath him. "It's not really a good idea to use it while the ship's in hyperspace..." he said.

Mortimer nodded. He decided to work on other parts of the weapon in the meantime.

A few hours passed. Tuk alternated between Mortimer and Fiona, watching and talking. 

At one point, having returned from the cockpit, he flopped down on his bench and sighed.

Mortimer had lived long enough to know that kind of sigh. The man had something on his mind. So he asked him as much.

"What's on your mind, m'boy?"

Tuk shook his head, looking at the doorway. 

Mortimer hazarded a guess. "She's a fine young woman."

Tuk's eyes lit up in alarm. Not making eye contact with Mortimer, he lightly scrambled over the table and sat next to Mortimer, leaning a bit to see if he could see Fiona in her pilot seat. She was sunk far into it, but apparently he saw what he was looking for, and he relaxed, sitting down next to Mortimer. 

"Ok. She's got headphones on."

Mortimer set down his work.  "What's the problem?" he asked. 

Tuk looked down at the old man next to him. "You've ever been in love, sir?"

Mortimer smiled. "Oh yes."

"What's it like?"

Mortimer gave it some thought.  "Being in love is.... all consuming. When you love someone, truly love someone, they're all you can think about when they're not with you..." He glanced at Tuk, who was now looking back at the cockpit.

"And sometimes even when they are!" Mortimer added. Tuk turned back, slightly embarrassed. He motioned for Mortimer to continue. 

Distant memories, from what seemed like a whole other lifetime ago surfaced in his memory. They were broken and shattered because they were from before his terrible Maelstrom accident. He tried hard to capture just the feelings, but it was like looking through murky water to a shattered mirror covered in purple algae. 

"It's... It's...." he sighed wistfully. "It's the most powerful emotion of all." He assured Tuk. "It can inspire a man beyond all understanding or damn one to the deepest despair.  Everyone searches for it, because it's the best feeling in the world, and yet, before, during, or after their pursuit of it,  it will cause people unimaginable pain." His smile broke softly, and he rubbed his temples. "Yet, it remains insanely popular," he muttered.  Glancing up at the young man next to him, he took pity on his confused face. "I'm sorry, none of this is very helpful, is it?"

Tuk shook his head. "No, no... " He seemed to be trying to find something nice to say, but instead he groaned, plastering his hands to his face. "No, it's not."

Mortimer picked up his tools to resume building, but then realized he'd totally forgotten his train of thought with his creation. Dropping the tool, he leaned back against the bench. 

"I wish I could help you more, my good man, but the mystery of love is something every man must unravel for themselves to fully understand." He stretched his neck. "I had my chance, and age has taken that particular token of wisdom from me." He continued, half muttering now. "Not that it would help you."

Tuk pulled his hands off his face and turned his head to Mortimer. "Did you ever get married?" Suddenly, hearing that question out loud, he realized how personal it was. "Um, if you're ok talki-"

"No." Mortimer said. "No, I never got married." He was staring at the ceiling.  "I do remember being engaged, but her face is lost to me now."

Tuk didn't really know what to say, except more questions. "So she said yes?"

Mortimer smiled at the ceiling. "I think so.  It was in a lab. I was so happy that I'd surprised her. I know her answer wasn't a straight yes or no.  Emotions are complex." He frowned.

"So then what happened between being enga-"

"She died."

Tuk bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright."

"If you don't mind my as-"

"I don't remember how."

"But you don't regret meeting her?"

Mortimer was silent. Tuk looked back at him, and saw that he'd closed his eyes in concentration. He laid a gentle hand on Mortimer's thin shoulder. "Sir?"

Mortimer groaned softly, rubbing his head as he bent over his knees. "That's just it, m'boy. I can't remember her." Tuk leaned over to check on him.

Suddenly, the old man snapped his head up and gripped Tuk's wrists in two talon-like grips. "If you ever get the chance to live your life out with your one true love, don't you DARE pass it up. Everything else will become empty and hollow if she gets away."

Surprised by the old man's swift change, Tuk didn't stop to think before he spoke again.

"What if I'm not sure she feels the same?"

"Tell her anyway, Tuk. Only the truth shall set you free."

"But what if she rejects me? What if she says no?"

"Then you shall have an answer, and the both of you will be better for it."

Tuk's face showed he wasn't certain of that. "At least now I work with her. I see her, I can talk with her."

Mortimer finally let go of Tuk's wrists, but he remained agitated, a strange violet glint burning in his eyes. He stood up and edged around the table till there was a small area between the rear ramp-door and the table where he could tread two feet back and forth.

"Yes, my nephew would call that the 'friend zone.' Do you want to be her friend forever?" The old man's burning gaze pierced right through the young one's.

Something inside Tuk reacted with revulsion. "No. No, I want to hold her. I want to hold her tight and never let her go. I want to keep her safe and make her laugh and see her every day for the rest of my life."

Mortimer nodded vigorously. "Go on!"

Tuk trembled. "I want to care for her, know all about her, hold no secrets from her, and her no secrets from me!" At some point, he'd stood up. "I..." 

He glanced down at himself and realized he was very near to yelling. He took a deep breath. "But..." he whispered as he sat down. "...it doesn't mean anything if she doesn't feel the same way."

"Feel the same way about what?" 

Tuk whipped around so fast that he banged his knee on the table, making the various tools and items jump. 

"Fiona!" he yelped, seeing her leaning out of the Pilot's seat with one side of the headset pulled back.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she said under her breath. "I felt people walking around. Is everything ok back there? What are you guys talking about?"

Mortimer replied cheerily. "You'll have to ask your boyfriend. He's the one who's going on and on about something!"

Tuk whipped his head back around to Mortimer. He could still see something simmering under his casually crossed arms and disarming smile...

"Tuk-hunk? You ok?"

Tuk turned back to Fiona. "Never better, babe!" he chuckled nervously. She beamed a smile at him, and the ache in his knee faded like magic.

"What were you guys talking about?" she asked.

Tuk searched frantically for a good reason. 'Anything but the truth!' was his initial reaction. "The ship," he blurted.

" 'Tiona'," muttered Mortimer behind him.

Fiona raised an eyebrow, glancing at the ship around them. "What about it?"

"He says it's a deathtrap," Tuk mentioned.

Now Mortimer raised an eyebrow at Tuk. Sure, he'd asked a lot of questions about the ship over the past few hours, but he'd never said it was a deathtrap... It was just... something he would have built, not something he would have expected a legitimate company to mass-produce.

Fiona's lips pursed together at the insult directed at her ship. "Well, this 'deathtrap' is going to get you to your destination in-" she checked the dashboard behind her. "-just over 3 hours from now, so deal with it."

Then she flicked her headphones back on and went back to reading. "And I'll have you know, this ship and her pilot have never been defeated, so there!" she called back.

'Of course I know that,' Mortimer thought. 'Because if you'd ever taken even just one hit, neither ship or crew  would be here to talk about it...!'

~~~~~~~

After that, Tuk didn't ask any more questions. He was quiet, almost sullen. Mortimer found it hard to concentrate on his building. He didn't get very far with his crossbow.

The next few hours went by quickly and quietly, with only the hum of the engines for noise.

"Alright boys, strap in!" Fiona said. "We're going out of hyperspace in a few minutes now, and you don't want to get thrown off your feet."

\

~Chapter 4~

Commander Quinton sat down in the captain's chair with an over-sized mug of black coffee. His well-kept bushy sheriff's style mustache wriggled under his nose as he took a big sniff of the lovely aroma.

Normally, he didn't drink coffee. In space, there really wasn't a concept of day and night. Therefore, no morning to have coffee in.

But today he would drink it non-stop to stay awake. Today he had bridge duty. 

Alas that he couldn't delegate this mind-numbing task to his underlings forever. He took a deep swig. Yes sir, today, his only challenge would be to not fall asleep to the sounds of interns whispering and consoles beeping, chirping, chiming, and humming away all around him. All of it meaning nothing to him. Unless something terribly drastic happened. He took another sip. Did he want something to happen? He considered this question as he leaned back in his chair.

On one hand, that would mean he wouldn't have the trouble of trying not to fall asleep. On the other, that would mean trouble, now wouldn't it?  Scratching his head, he then readjusted his uniform's cap on his full gray-haired head. Between the two, he supposed he'd rather take the trouble of not falling asleep over some other unknown tr-

"Sir, I have a vessel approaching from hyperspace!"

Internally, Commander Quinton cursed his wandering mind for jinxing a perfectly quiet day. 

"Is it one of ours? Is it friendly?" he asked, sipping his cup of coffee as he turned to the intern who'd spoken.

Another intern spoke. "It's not Nexus Force, but whatever it is, it's small."

"Charge Ion cannons," Quinton said.  "Just in case."

"They're hailing," "Sensors say it's a civilian signature," "They'll be here in minutes," Inputted various underlings all around him.

"Put it through."

The audio was riddled with static, since it was connecting through hyperspace, but they could hear the female voice well enough. "Hailing Nexus Force Blockade. This is Fiona Shepp, piloting her personal starship 'Aero'. I have a passenger who wishes to go down to the surface of Militiregnum. Do you read?"

The commander's various personnel looked to him as he responded. 

"This is Commander Quinton of the Nexus Force Blockade around Militiregnum, to the personal starcraft 'Aero'. I'm afraid all traffic to and from the surface of Militiregnum has been restricted. Your passenger will not be allowed to land. Do you copy?"

There was a static silence, as expected. Then the Pilot replied. "Understood. Once we drop out of hyperspace, may we dock with the blockade? My passenger would like to speak with you all personally. It's a matter most important to him."

Commander Quinton signaled for a mute, then looked to one of his subordinates. "What can you make of their weapons status?"

"Sir, they have a lot of energy for their class size, but I think most of it is engine capacity, not weaponry. Either way, something so small poses no true threat to the blockade."

"What is it's class size?" Quinton demanded. In response, his crew threw up a quickly forming holographic schematic of the fast-approaching vessel. It was indeed very small. Weapon capabilities were little to none.

"Scramble some light fighters, we don't want it to slip past our big guns," he stated.

"Commander Quinton, do you copy?" the pilot repeated.

Motioning to the communications officer, the mute was lifted, and he replied. "I copy you, Aero. If you come out of hyperspace and power down all non-essential systems, we'll tractor you in to a hanger. We don't want you sneaking past us to the embattled planet below."

"Understood. I'll power down the engines as soon as I drop out of Hyperspace."

The Commander turned to one of his men. "Have the Venture Quest tractor them to it's hanger. Inform Captain Benedict that he will be having some visitors, including myself."

"Sir, Yes sir," "Aye-aye," "Yes, Commander." The various stations sprang to life as everyone set to do their part to keep the blockade running smoothly under this new development.

~~~~

Mortimer stepped off of the ramp of the 'Aero' with his fanny pack, backpack, and rolling suitcase. He was greeted by armed guards of both Sentinel and Venture League factions. 

"State your name and business." One of them said. "All of you."

Mortimer's eyebrows raised, not exactly expecting such a welcome party, but he nevertheless complied as he stepped aside for Tuk, who was carrying his duffle-bag. "My name is Dr. Nathaniel D. Mortimer, and these are my travelling companions, Tuk, and the Pilot whom you spoke with, Fiona."

Everyone, including Tuk and Mortimer leaned forward to look into the shuttle at Fiona, who was still finishing something in the cockpit.

"Miss Fiona, I need you out of the ship now," demanded one of the guards.

"Coming, coming. You don't want it to float away do you?" Having finished whatever final Pilot check she had been doing, she hurried out and stood next to Tuk.

Giving them all a final look over, the same guard nodded. "Follow us."

Mortimer had a bad feeling about this....

~Chapter 12~

End.