Dekker's Dozen: The Last Watchmen

The Mechnar Revival

Dekker's Dozen #001

The amber warning light blipped on Margo's instrument panel. There hadn't been any contact with the Osix Station for many hours past the mandatory check-in. Only silence came from the moon base.

Margo bit her lip. Only an intern with Halabella Mining Company, her superiors always seemed to hold her personally accountable for bad news. The moon had long proven to be rich in resources. Her mind wildly speculated on what might have happened as her finger hovered over the internal communications device.

Maybe it was the Krenzin, she thought. After all, the theocratic Krenzin had once petitioned the MEA government for its use as a religious commune, before the Company began its mining. Halabella, barely managed to retain its rights. Now, the entire moon had fallen mute save the crackle of an open com signal.

That the Krenzin might somehow seize the property and evict its occupants seemed a crazy notion. The felinoid race rarely used aggression and favored diplomacy above all else; passivity interweaved their central, theological tenants. Following the heinous criminal Prognon Austicon's ravaging of their planet, the Krenzin populated Earth, invading human politics. Margo shook her head, this just wasn't the Krenzin's style.

Besides, a query from the nearby Krenzin outpost opened on her data screen. They'd expressed their own concerns regarding their suddenly quiet neighbors—in fact they'd sent a crew for a safety check. Margo activated the com unit and dialed her boss. They would have to call in a licensed Investigator.

The Mechnar Revival

Formerly a battleship, the interstellar, colony-jumping galleon Requiem brought relief efforts, free traders, sightseers, religious pilgrims, and every other type of tourists imaginable to popular ports of call. Luckily for Dekker, Requiem's route brought it past Alpha Centauri.

It proved more financially sound for him to transport his crew, ship, and equipment on the Requiem than it was to pilot it from Earth, especially in light of the Investigators' current fiscal woes. With all the clearances and the tariff needed to make a jump from Earth, it could be cheaper to shuttle out-system on a commercial liner and jump from there. It depended on what the job paid and the state of his credit accounts.

The crew itched for a good score like Halabella offered, but the jump drives were in dire need of repairs and their ship desperately needed parts. Dekker had even been on his way to Earth's moon to see Doc Johnson about repairing his ships engines when the urgent notice about the job came over the wires. Dekker and his partner Vivian "Vesuvius" Briggs, rounded up their team of licensed Investigators: one part mercenary, one part detective.

Licensed Investigators became necessary for certain jobs "neo civilization" found too distasteful following a Krenzin renaissance. The crippling legal system as well as growing public distaste for conflict paved the way with gold for those with skill enough for the hot-ones, and then the government did their best to tariff those profits back into nonexistence.

Dekker paced around the exterior of his ship and muttered about his missed rendezvous with Doc Johnson. He paid no attention to the crowd of spectators that stared at his crew and drew his battered duster close about his body, making sure any personal armaments stayed concealed; their legality depended on the current jurisdiction, but they were all illegal somewhere. He scowled at a male oggler whose eyes lingered too long at his partner.

Vesuvius' tight, leather pants and flak jacket certainly hugged her form, practically teasing the male eye. She earned her nickname by her tendency to violently explode. Dekker's warning scowl might just save this man's life. Turning to inspect an old hull crack, she threw her hair red back as if it were a lava plume.