The Regulator

Chapter 1.1

The table was real wood. In fact every table on the deserted observation deck was made of the same, elegantly carved and richly polished walnut. Hand made and finished in Belfast, according to the little brass plate screwed to the bulkhead.

Commander Neylan Haas ran her one real hand over the smooth, warm surface and wondered what it would be like to spend every day surrounded by such luxury and not think it unusual. Even the mug she cradled in her other hand looked expensive, although to her it was little more than dead weight. As sophisticated as it was, her prosthetic arm gave no real indication of temperature, meaning her first coffee of the day had already burned her lips. Now, she sipped her brew more carefully. It was real too, rich and bitter and much appreciated, because even in these opulent surroundings she'd had a sleepless night.

She sank back in to the thick upholstery of her chair and wondered just how many resource officials the Blue Star Line had bribed to ensure the Laurentic, their flag ship, was the most luxuriously outfitted liner cruising the Orion spur. The welcome brochure, which she'd read whilst waiting to board had boasted of the best Solarian spa facilities, hand woven Circinian silks on every bed and the widest selection of wines and spirits from across the Spur. Even the crew were hand selected for their experience and discretion by the Blue Star's directors. The Laurentic was everything the paranoid super rich desired and it was no wonder the passenger list, which Haas had vetted herself the day before, was crammed with minor Circinian royalty and Solarian film stars. This was the only way to travel if you were famous, important or rolling in money, so none of the names on the manifest had caused her any concern. No-one with a criminal record, except a few obligatory court ordered stays at Lunar 6 rehab, and anyone who made it through a couple of months in that place probably deserved to treat themselves.

No, the pampered rich of Orionid space were unlikely to be a threat to the man she was escorting, and her position by his side was more of a diplomatic favour than a political necessity. A favour which had pissed off her boss, Commodore Phiri so much he'd broken his Comm link hanging up on the Admiralty Brass. Haas and her partner Lucy Sato had one of the highest arrest records in the Regulator Branch and they were being split up so Haas could baby sit a retiring diplomat? Well, that was just fine. The Spur's criminal fraternity could take it easy for a few days, Sato could teach a close quarters combat class to cadets on Make Make and she could sip real coffee on the most expensive cruise liner on the Spur.

Coffee aside, Haas would be quite happy when her little errand was over. Sitting on the Laurentic, with barely a thing to do, was making her feel uncomfortable. The ship's spacious luxury and emphasis on quiet relaxation was a long way from her usual form of transport. Her own ship, the Admiralty Pursuit Vehicle, Abilene, was safely docked at one of the Laurentic's many life raft stations, where its unpainted metal skin and ugly exterior engines would remain unseen by the liner's paying passengers. They were still having to tolerate her presence though, and some, like her were finding the whole experience a little disconcerting.

Diplomatic protection duty was not one of the assignments usually handed down to the Regulators, the Admiralty's principal pirate catchers. They were usually considered too trigger happy and uncouth for the job, but her companion had not only asked for her, but also stipulated that she remain in uniform for their entire trip. As a result of his demands the insignia on her scarlet jacket, and the sidearm strapped to her hip were giving some of Neylan's fellow travellers cause for concern. She'd caught the nervous glances in her direction, and the whispers over pre-dinner cocktails in the VIP Lounge.

The Laurentic's captain, a reed thin man by the name of Nagy, had been sympathetic. Having introduced himself to her charge, and made the usual small talk, he'd turned to her and offered a cool, pale hand in greeting.