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Rex needed to set down soon. Sixteen hours on the trot were taking their toll-his eyes heavy, lids flickering, him gripping the spatial tiller column tenaciously, fighting to not drift into associative non reality and all the other mental tricks the mind plays when its severely fatigued. Rex had managed to jump clear half way through this part of the galaxy from his start point at Hexeth, though Achenar, once the seat of the illustrious, infamous Emperor (various actually), of the former Imperial home worlds to where he was about to have an extended stop over now: Sigma Draconis, with only a brief and rather unpleasant rest at the fanatically religious world of Van Maanens Star. Rex had met his target of crossing through 60 light years in the 12 light year jumps, which his class 8 evo 4 special operations hyperdrive would allow. He was brought to full consciousness abruptly by the star dreamer consoles automatic use of adrenalin as a stimulant. An exhilarating. If rather overwhelming severe sensation. His eyes were wide open now, and his face pale, he felt alert in a forced, contrived sort of way. He guided the old Imperial Star Cruiser carefully through the lit up space ways nervously snaking through narrow guide ways obviously designed for smaller, more modern craft. The Imperial Star Craft, it's four huge characteristic hyper warp engines pulsing gently, tremored slightly as the whole vessel came to rest at the dock way and the automatic mooring beams engaged. The Imperial Star Cruiser was secured.
Rex strode about the station; it felt good to stretch his legs. The interior went from being functional to plush and luxurious, like an old world ostentatious casino, as Rex made his way toward the entertainment and refreshments area. This rather self-indulgent environment of Sigma Draconis station was a distant cry from Van Maanens Star, his last stop over. He tried to date this facility but could not. . It looked like the kind of place established during Frontier expansion to secure "brave space explorer type" business…. perhaps during the demise of Frontier exploration. Strangely enough it was austere places such as Van Maanens star along with their strict stark religious fundamentalist regime that were on the rise. It seemed to Rex that a while ago this would have seemed retrograde; an expanding, exploratory,"life-on-the-edge, pushing-new-boundaries", discovering, no, reaping brave new frontiers, lifestyle, in favour of unquestioning faith, stability, so called focus and an obedient society at the expense of personal growth of the individual. It amazed Rex how echoes of this very theme permeated everywhere throughout the galaxy. Ubiquitous obliquity. And ever since Rexs flash back episodes from the past made themselves apparent and Rex was fully able to interpret them as much more then just discontinuous images, it was as if he had this incredible ability to see some kind of higher truth. Things were changing and so was Rex, and this scared him to a degree, but it also gave him a new confidence like a sense of purpose, things seemed so much clearer now.
Rex wondered about the great circular corridors and viewed the dome above that offered a breath taking view into space -stars more densely packed then he had ever seen. This served to remind him that he was closer to the galaxies coreward frontier then he had ever been. He whisked past restaurants and retail attractions that seemed to be closed for business. From fragments of memories hundreds of years old, left dormant, only to re-assert themselves now-memories of someone else's life before -Rex recalled how once this place was continually bustling with activity, buzzing constantly with voices, hopes and dreams of next destinations…
Rex paced slowly, pensively past what looked like two great Earth/Terra type sailing galleons circa 15th Century- no doubt part of some intricate display-they looked abandoned now…unused for years. Then, past a display of great space vessels from the "great expansive" frontier era. His eyes traced out the lines of a squat, broad shouldered delta form. "Cobra Mark 3", he uttered. No doubt his mind digging inadvertently into his genetic memory. His eyes then wondered to a sleek long form, thin lean and low," evil" looking, this, he recalled, was the Fer-De-Lance light speeder. He remembered, even in this life expanse, reading about such craft as a kid in a journal before such publications that recited the past in such a manner were discontinued. The Fer-De-Lance was predominantly favoured by bounty hunters who would pursue a quarry or prey, living in it for months on end, maintaining an impressive average speed. It had fabulously robust shield generators and its faulcon DeLacy drive system was very responsive. Rex was now sure that he must have been a bounty hunter, raiding the "space lanes" in such a craft for suddenly he recalled the plush sumptuous interior in deep red, in fine detail, in a previous incarnation. He eyed the holographic display for any information on his very own vessel the Imperial Star Cruiser. There was nothing. His eyes scanned around for its intricately shaped form. And then there it was hanging above them all like a predator about to pounce. No, it was not his Imperial Star Cruiser but the very similar Imperial Courier of which the Star Cruiser used as a platform. The Star Cruiser had swollen, bulging flanks, with greater armaments and two extra drive units above. The Star Cruiser was built in limited numbers, he read somewhere, designed to relentlessly further the cause and lead the empire had in colonising and perhaps conquering frontier space over their neighbours, the Federation and Independent Aliance. The place where Rex was born was once a strong Imperial world -but all this was quite meaningless now in its current context.

Rex continued on his way through the deep pile carpet of this anachronistic station until he found himself near the old food court. Again most of the establishments were closed even the bars. These days stability and the family unit were emphasized above exploration and social connection points. Finally he found cafeteria Losikeen-12; evidently a bare essentials food outlet and recreations centre. He wondered if it also had lodging facilities.
Inside were the liberal smatterings of "space trucker types". These corporate transportation pawns were in themselves becoming an anachronistic institution in themselves; galactic central control government had just past the bill to use automated drone piloted space truck transportation -in the interests of further minimising "diffusion" and spreading of space faring humanoids. Of course corporate space truckers themselves had not been around for more then a couple of centuries; Rex remembered a time during Frontier space when it was the brave or foolish who chose a special life, put all their investment in a cargo/exploratory craft, such as the Cobra mark three, armed it with certain defences and armaments and went space trading; perhaps dealing in foodstuffs or industrial computers, the daring and less law abiding perhaps illegally dealing in slaves and fire arms. The big galactic space transportation companies that were set up during the demise of the three galactic super powers (The Empire, The Federation, and The Aliance of Independent worlds). And that marked the rise of the "space trucker". Space had gotten a lot safer then and armaments and weapons accordingly decreased.
Rex eyed a bunch of space faring trucker types at the corner of the cafeteria. They looked like they could use some sleep and refreshment. Most were humanoid and indulging in banta making a lot of hearty noise. He eyed one in particular, a big burley bearded fellow who must have been very old, and his hair was wisps of white tied in typical Ophiuchian rogue fashion. (Rex had always thought that that was just a stereotype). He obviously had an eye missing and it was covered over with a metal patch. Rex did not view these people with the fear that many stable-on-world settling types might. A space truck was a considerable investment and they could not be unruly lazy anarchists to have them. In any case rex remembered extreme immediate dangers from years ago that no one needed to face anymore…

Rex leaned on the food counter and eyed the many appealing food dishes. Seafood from Ross 154, braised Verrix (rare), Verrix a hexapod indigenous to Phiagre, and roast beef and Yorkshire pudding from Sol-3, terra.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" the not unattractive deli maid asked tentatively, smiling as she did. Rex glanced up at her his eyes scanning past her, only to re focus on her sharp features, dark blue eyes and straight blonde hair and tall slender figure grabbed his attention for a split second. Rex never put too much precedence on external appearances especially in this day and age of genetic jiggery pokery and plastic surgeons laser scalpels which could easily betray someone who used looks to ascertain some ones origin, Rex gestured to the terran style sushi, taramasalata and fresh fruit trying to manage a half hearted smile through his tiredness as he asked.
Perceptively she immediately picked up," You're not from around these parts are ya?"
Rex was used to his own privacy but didn't mind genuine interest. It was pointless ice breaking chitchat he abhorred. Where as most from his planet of origin substituted the term "nosey" for interest and loved nothing more then to indulge in hours of pointless focus-less trivia talk.
"Very perceptive, yes I've travelled 60 light years in…"
Her eyes widened
"Wow," she interjected," You're from around sector zero-five, I'd say around Anacketh or Ackdati,"
Now it was Rexs eyes that widened a little as he raised his eyebrow a little, " yes, in fact I am from Ackdati,"
"Not many people come this way from that far, is that your beautiful old Imperial Star cruiser…. they fetch good credit now and should really all be being preserved at the…."
Rex looked around to see that the space truckers had stopped their banta and were casually glancing this way, in addition a stranger wearing a long dark cloak stood beside him in close proximity eyes alternating from him to the food. She saw Rex look around, gave a slight nod of acknowledgement or so it seemed and smiled sheepishly. Rex reached over and took his tray with the ready food, "Thank you for the food, and…er…thanks again".

Rex looked at her nametag before he left to sit at his own secluded corner table. Beorla was her name.
He sat and tucked in contently. Rex looked at all the merchandise on display. He was hidden somewhat in this corner by giant cuddly toys and Lucia 'whispering plants' (dormant) all on display. His memory then lured his mind once again to the pioneer frontier days of space exploration. The dangers that lay ahead for long distance space travellers especially those who had started to use the then recently discovered hyperspace facility were not only confined to hostile alien/opponent space encounters but often more basic problems: vessels breaking down in the remote midst of the vast voids between the stars…
In the early days of hyperspace transit, hyperspace was known as "witchspace". The reason as to why this was seem to have been lost in the mists of time, but someone once said somewhere to someone of Rexs past, as a kid, that it was because it was haunted- the shadows and ghosts of those early ships that never got out still there haunting it. Rex shivered and tensed up a little. It seemed that this recollection of an old memory was still enough to ruffle his spirits slightly…
Early ships were designed to be self-sustaining and self sufficient and repairable in the same fashion with extensive tools onboard. As the galactic space network expanded and became more extensive, the larger ship corporations such as Faulcon Delacy and Whatt And Pritney saw the opportunity for profit by selling "unserviceable " sealed unit vessels that needed regular professional servicing and maintenance at extortionate prices else they could fail. Well specialist vessels such as Rexs own inherited Imperial Star Cruiser, The Puma Explorer and Boa Constrictor were the desperate last ditch attempt of the Imperial Guard , Federal Navy and Independent Alliance Militia respectively to expand out using long distance self sustaining heavily armed vessels before the twilight of this era. It was comforted rex no end that as a result of this they were eminently practical, robust and reliable and relatively easily repaired. Using hydrogen ion ram for propulsion his vessel could re-fuel by skimming close to near by suns and using fuel scoops to capture hydrogen. Rex recalled just how long it took him to restore this five hundred year old inherited relic. He remembered the enthusiasm and warm feelings he had when he would inexorably watch this beast of beauty grow but also recalled just how muzzled he felt unable to open up to anyone about his exciting venture. It kept him going in his mapped out life and during his days in his worthy and important but dreary job. You see, exploration, old style cruisers from a bygone era and even space travel itself had been deemed quite unacceptable by society on Ackdati. Beautiful, wondrous relics, temples, fortresses, citadels that pointed towards Ackdatis rich Imperial past were either destroyed or allowed to decay, Under the new Malsi Order he noticed the growing and encouraged trend to start families early focusing on the day to day-perhaps focusing on trendy fashionable disposable material possessions, such as the new breed of swish inter system "life style" shuttles. Rex could only extrapolate that it was a way to enforce population regrowth and stop "brain drain". Certainly the auspicious events that followed with him and a certain Sinclair Pennington supported the play out of this hypothetical oppressive regime. Even now, thinking of "Sinny" brought Rex a twinge of pain and a pang of hollow emptiness. To one such as himself who prided himself in being centrally guided judge of character it was especially disconcerting. There were no signs at all, and her every action seemed incredibly genuine. She loved him, she said. It seemed ingrained in every whisper, every promise, and every close intimate warm moist breath upon him. She seemed to share his drives and motivations and desires to explore, pushing the boundaries, question and travel the galaxy unhindered; escape….
And then there was Joshua Tracy, the hard-nosed minister who had a vested interest in Rex himself enough to take whatever means necessary to make him stay-including "assigning" Sinclair to him. "How was she assigned?" was a question Rex asked himself, was it voluntary for her of some form of neurological programming? Fortunately for Rex (if you look at the big picture), or unfortunately, Joshua took a very keen interest in Sinclair and indications were that it was reciprocated. Rex flung the thought out of his head. His eyes were sparkling wet and his throat and neck had a welling up sensation. At any rate he was not sure if either of them had survived; in a grief stricken moment it was necessary to put him and his ship and the destiny that lay ahead above all else and that meant vaporising the moorings shackles, that restrained the Star Cruiser, control tower and star ports atmospheric dome…while those two were pursuing…
On that day Rex had made a secret vow to never let any female interest, any flesh and blood come above his Star Cruiser and it's sentient Artificial intelligence care taker, Ella in his heart ever again….
"You've got to be several light years away!"
Rex was startled. It was beorla, She was looking at him directly in the eye and Rex wondered what evidence there was in his face, in his eyes, of his in composure only moments ago. Improvising quickly he decided to make light of it; "Yes I was but then my mind got sucked in by one of those quantum singularities!"
She smiled warmly," Mind if I join you?" She gestured the seat Adjacent to him. "Please do".
" So Mister , what will yer star cruiser do? She have the original drives of have then been replaced with compact sealed unit novamotor reproductions?"
Rex replied," I'm impressed, you know your stuff, infact it has the original quadruple vortex drives well sort of original," Rex elaborated feeling he could be technically fledged with her," I found the gravometric distorsion generators worked better in the Evo VI , so these vortex generators have been installed , all remapped , re optimised with de restricted hyper mesh generators , of course," he affirmed.
"Mmmmmm, very interesting," she mused as she rclined back in a stance that stamped out her relaxed stance , " so it's an Evo IV shell with a re-whiffed Evo VI drive. It's Ok my father and ex fiancé were dead into old classics-when it was cool to be into them, if ya know what I mean. I picked stuff up off them. So is she warm?"
"Is she warm?" he quizzed, repeating the words slowly
"You know, armed, does she have teeth?"
"What kind of ridiculous question is that….er…of course not!" rex shifted slightly in his chair. To anyone who knew him, it would have been obvious that the over defensive reaction there signalled just the opposite in fact. The original specification Imperial Star Cruiser did have an impressive array of armaments. Sensibly and understandably in an altogether safer, less "active" universe such armament was outlawed now. Life in even the old "elite type" systems such as Riedquat , where once the uneasy clan-pirate alliances would readily break down making it an anarchists dream, were now docile and tranquil systems. 30 MW mining lasers were allowed as were floating mines or detonating charges. Rex knew what in store for him and the Star Cruiser made it necessary to be as well armed as he could. With this in mind he had managed to adapt a 30 MW mining laser to shoot quicker and for longer using super cooling circuitry, heat dissipation sinks with the accelerator unit fitted improving accuracy. They still had neither the response or aim of the original spec military beam lasers but had over three times the punch. Rex had also managed to secure a huge quantity of proximity mines or charges and these he had "beefed up" and attached 'smart guidance heads'. So they were effectively homing missiles. In addition the original armoury was still intact, but just hadn't been operated in countless years. Rex felt sure there was potential here to restore a lot of the stuff; back up military beams units, an energy bomb, inactive dormant NM800 warheads and something called a "micro plasmic accelerator beam". He hadn't even been in there in years. Rex recalled he had little idea what any of this meant right now but from now on knew time was something he had in abundance…
Posing, playfully Beorla threw her hands up in resignation in response to his own response, "Hey, I was just messin with ya, just asking. So where are ya heading Mister Space Cow Boy?"
Rex looked at her for a moment then his eyes darted to the vastness of space through the "port hole" behind. "Out there," he responded, semi profoundly, " I need to get away."
She slid her hand on to his but not in a provocative way. She focused her deep blue eyes, " You seem like such a kind person," She brushed a hand through her hair and it was then that Rex caught a glimpse of an ornamental earring that was the mark of the Malsi order, Instinctively he drew back and fought back the uneasy feeling of revulsion deep in his stomach. She said "Take me with you, get me away from here, " Half jokingly. It was the common fairy tale, space cowboy stranger comes to remote space and rescues pretty maiden from trapped life, and together they make their fortune. What disturbed Rex more was just how widespread the Malsi order must have been outside Hexeth, Ackdati And generally sector 0,-5. "Your words are heretic for a Malsi, and you don't know me at all, " Rex said, Beorla looked down. He studied her features focusing in; using an invasive technique he had mastered-he concentrated. She said more seriously, " I know souls, old souls such as yours well, I so much need to leave this place"
"But surely your primary concern now, Beorla, must be for your kid, you little boy, his future, a stable future…. your boy loves and needs you very much and there are no roads, no mapped paths where I'm going." She looked startled. There was a silence. Rex broke the uneasiness by enquiring about a place to stay for the night; that would allow chemical cleansing and decontamination of his tar Cruiser tonight. The conversation flitted to joke and light banta and he found out that Beorla was born here amidst the stars and had stayed here all her life and turned to the Malsi order to give her life meaning- albeit misguided false meaning- Rex thought. Rex was still amazed at how easily she was willing to steal away with him. She was either incredibly intuitive or incredibly naïve. Perhaps he was taking it too seriously and this was said more in jest. But then again desperate people take desperate measures - So much for the Malsi order and peace of mind…
The accommodation was no Imperial Star Cruiser; it was minimalist but met requirements. It was evidently a lot cheaper in this sector of the galaxy. Unfortunately not cheap enough. Rex had freshened up and was in bed letting his final thoughts for the day drift in their associative fashion. His wealth or credit rating was one of the things foremost on his mind. Back on Ackdati he had been planning this get away for a while and had accordingly sold off all he owned. At his current rate this would last him a year. This worried him. In the old times, he could have set himself up as a bounty hunter receiving handsome bonuses and rewards for catching intergalactic criminals. He was inexperienced in terms of space combat but he was a quick learner and a strategically astute tactician but the system of receiving rewards from the Elite Federation Of Pilots was long obsolete. Setting up as a cargo holder was not as option, with a cargo hold as small as his compared to most space trucks that was a non-starter. More over if he offered any competition to any the major stellar transportation companies he would be crushed like a Lavian glob fly. Piracy- attacking the truckers? This was far from Rexs style. Besides, Rex was no anarchist. It was the basics that Rex was concerned with; water was not a problem, once he mastered the dangerous art of strafing a sun or gas giants atmosphere. Water was not too much of a problem either as this ship produced water as one of its by products, food, nourishment in general was the major concern. Half asleep Rex smiled with thoughts of converting one of the troop recreation decks into a botanical garden, so he could get some form of nourishment ……
With a sudden and violent jerk Rex arose, his relaxed semi sleep condition disrupted. Eyes wide he recalled the thought his mind touched before this interruption. It was a risqué method that pirates and other pursued would use to evade the bounty hunters or police hunters on their trail. It was incredibly risky, had an unpredictable and non-relativistic effect on the hyperdrive. It was known as a forced MisJump. The ape on the planet with a big club pursuing you, with heavy forehead could in fact be Cro magnan man because you've displaced time and ended up in a different time era. Or, you could find yourself stranded in the dark and eerie reaches of mid witchspace but more often then not it would just fling one to a very distant part of the galaxy. …hundreds of light years away far from any previous known settlements. Rexs mind boggled. In his case it would have the potential benefit of almost certainly throwing him clear away from the current insidious totalitarian strangle hold of this part of the galaxy. So he could make a new beginning, hunting fresh supplies and food in a new uncharted part of space….
Ludicrous! Surely this was not a viable option. Chilled Rex dismissed the idea and soon fell asleep.
He was driving obscenely fast. Handling the gentle bends of the road with supreme confidence and composure drawing from his considerable racing experience. These gentle bends felt like very sharp serpentine corners at these heady speed. The BMW M635Csi handled the ruts and ridges of the road with equal aplomb. He gripped the leather-clad steering wheel tightly wondering where he'd left his pursuers. Interior of the car a paragon of ergonomic clarity, the engine approached 7000 rpm and the straight six snarled aggressively but remained sublimely smooth as it did so. He wondered how far behind the police were. They had almost caught up with him at the last state. He had it on good authority that there was a "Welcoming committee" up ahead, here at the golden state. The aggressively raked forward shark nose of the BMW thrust forward headlights cutting through the dusk. There was no turning back, no more running for him. He thought of the hypocritical fascists that ran the country and then about how his face would probably be on the front cover of every major newspaper. This made him grin. His mind then drifted back to Vera, her last words to him, " I'll catch a 6 foot wave, I'll ride it in your honour. I love you. Think of Me!". Remembered how the only thing that came back to him, standing on the beech was her surfboard. He waited for hours, calling out her name…
He wondered if she was watching him now and if she'd shoot him her typical disapproving look. He looked up ahead. Something in the distance looking closer larger. Two objects directly ahead and a gathering. a crowd. So this was the welcoming committee, he thought. It was the "right" thing to do. He pressed the accelerator harder. The speedometer climbed up, 60 mph, 70 mph…
The two behemoth bull dozers stood resolutely ahead on the road. Xenos famous paradox came into his mind. He grinned. The grin became a wide genuine smile. The Motorsport BMW 6 series shot up to 90 Mph as it headed majestically for the bull dozers. It wasn't long before the silver BMW hit the obstructions hard…

Rex awoke abruptly perspiring a little. Eyes wide open. What a shocking dream! He placed his hands over his head to try and review the events just replayed in his head just moments ago to try and reinforce them almost. Vivid as they were, in most instances they faded and certainly lost their intricate detail. There was not much point in analysing his dreams. Rex accepted them. He didn't think they reflected on his psychological state of mind either: they were so diverse, abstract, far removed and yet detailed and totally authentic. Whoever that person was, he was that person during the dream. Was it reflections of a previous life or existence from his genetic memory? An ancestor perhaps? But this one appeared to have died…
Reincarnation? Who knows?
It was morning by the local station chronometer and Rex had checked out of his room and was now heading back toward his ship along the spacious walkways of this old once great Frontier Star Port. Up above on the holographic notice board he wondered why he hadn't noticed this display on his way INTO the station. Eyes scanned down the list of requests, Missing persons, pleas for money from various charity organisations, and fixed on to the large number of requests by passengers for transportation or parcels that needed courier services. Rex paused for a while considering. Then resumed again. The time was not right, now while he was still finding his "space legs" but a strong option for the future remained.
He continued on his way to where his ship was berthed. He looked at his vessel through the transparent wall section. He slid a hand through his unruly raven black hair as he admired its classic, regal yet aggressive lines. It dwarfed the tiny compact "luxury domestic pleasure or "lifestyle" shuttles" that there seemed to be a smattering of around his star cruiser. He extended his thumb to an identification pad long with peering into the i.d viewing scope: it was standard practice even in his part of the galaxy to use finger prints, along with retina scans while cross referencing the two for identification purposes. It was quite likely someone could genetically clone an organ of the body, it was less likely they could replicate a humanoids intricate retina, it was highly unlikely then this "impostor" could recite memorised codes also, Rex thought as he was just about to bark out such codes to enter his ship. Home. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around sharply. A high-pitched heavily accented male voice said
"You the owner of that Imperial Antique," pointing at it with some kind of baton.
The stranger was a wiry skinny fastidiously if fussily dressed humanoid. Rex nodded slowly, large dark eyes locked on his unwavering.
"It's swish looking, bro, a bit old but swish. Are you on your way to take it to a museum?"
It was then that Rex noticed others dressed in a similar style to this one similar age in a group, close by near the viewing port but converging slowly toward him. He felt uneasy, defensive.
What did this guy want? He spoke in specific slang. Rex tried to place him.
" I have no reason to go to a museum, "
"Where are you heading?"
Rex looked at him with a somewhat stern look on his brow.
"I'm heading that way towards Antares". By this time the others had joined them. They fell about laughing. Rex felt less uneasy: It was clear from their tall narrow frames they were from low gravity environments, possibly with thick atmospheres looking at their narrow nasal features. This would put him at a definite advantage if there were a combat situation. He didn't, however, sense deception or hostility from them just curiosity and macho need to show their prowess. Rex had read about growing ranks of social groups such as these who either had parents who would finance their pursuit in "lifestyle" space shuttles, which they'd subsequently modify and race or they would work and divert large sums of credit to.

"Why would anyone want to head that way?" one of the others in group said still smirking,
"….that flying antique dinosaur trap is likely to break apart and leave your ass in a hard vacuum".
Rex felt a tinge of annoyance. He remained composed, his lower lip extended and taught in an unimpressed expression.
" I have my reasons and they are not your concern", with that Rex turned toward the access portal to his vessel.
"Hey bro, bet she's fast though,she looks fast…" the first guy rambled.' Ah now the complement to get my attention," Rex thought. What did they want? To race against my ship? Rex turned sharply and aggressively, effectively bullying this wiry kid closer to the station bulkhead. "You come to me to insult my ship, what the fuck do you want, pretty boy?"
The slimy boy knew by the look in Rex's eyes that he meant business.
"Say, you wanna make yourself some fast credit?" obviously trying to diffuse. Rex's glare unwavered. The others remained where they were. He elaborated , "the first of us to reach Darke's Hollow on Altair will get 800 credits."
" Well that sounds legally binding,"Rex chided sarcastically, " In fact it's not verifiable at all".
"The money could be transferred to a neutral depositary and the first one to reach the destination picks up the money and takes off, bro."
Rex considered , nodding slowly. It had happened before; the people of Ackdati underestimating his ship. Technology and modern advancement were the key banners that kept people of today eager to purchase new release after new release of lifestyle compact space shuttles. It was profitable for the manufacturer to release shuttle after shuttle every standard year majoring on the latest fashionable exterior paintwork or redesigned artificial reality work out facility. The "Latest optimum technology banner" was indeed appropriate when it came to compact shuttles and space efficiency, or how uncannily quiet they were compared to his Imperial Star Cruiser .To design a modern lifestyle shuttle be capable of traversing huge space folding distances during single hyperspace jumps, however, or over engineer to the degree so that punishment of multi megaton warhead missiles , photonic disruption of lasers could be absorbed or to withstand gravometric forces from class G stars made no sense and there was no marketable reason for. It was this underestimation of his Star cruiser and Rex Nuvolari ; the man, that made his escape from oppressive Ackdati all the more easier. Rex considered racing these "pretty boys" and the amount of fast credit he could make. He felt a foreboding however a sense of uneasiness. For some inexplicable reason Rex felt he needed to get to Antares. More over from forming regular neurogenic links with the Artificial intelligence computer aboard the Star Cruiser made him intimately aware that it was not wise to extend the hyperdrive engines so much so soon. Much better to let them and all systems on board ,bed in and regenerate. Rex felt no shame at all in declining the proposed race. If these really were growing ranks of space faring types there would be other times to come.
It was well within 25 minutes before Rex had retracted the mooring beams. He had put on the helmut like head piece to form a neurogenic link with Ella and his Star Cruiser. Everything inside everywhere smelt lemony frech since the overnight decontamination. The four Evo 6 motors engaged and the Star Cruiser tremored, purposefully. Rex eased the drive control lever forward only slightly to impart some forward momentum. The deep hum from the engines rose in pitch as the discharge from them glowed a brilliant azure blue. The Star Cruiser poked it's nose out of Sigma Draconis Solo base before Rex snaked the big vessel skilfully through the lip up narrow guideways. The glare from the type K sun was brilliant orange. Rex eased the nose away from the sun, flinching away from the screen slightly holding the spatial tiller carefully and then slid the drive control to maximum. The hetero dyning effect of cancellation and reinforcement- a super imposing pattern of waves throughout the ship manifested itself as a deep, slightly uneven pulsing noise. Deep, burbling, reassuring trembling feeling of space travel in his Imperial ship. Rex was about to programme the star dreamer console and artificial reality console for his next fantasy encounter - this was to be a particularly long haul, but he has this euphoric feeling and wanted to hold on to it. He could go anywhere, do anything. He smiled as he thought of a carefree lifestyle racing obnoxious "pretty boys" or taxiing and acting as a courier for important people exploring wild and fascinating new worlds as he did so. Then he thought of the apparent epidemic spread of the Malsi order. 'May be he'd find pockets of disillusionment within the Malsi order', he tried to dismiss. His eyes then fixed on the hyper drive matrix controls. His hand caressed the smooth control panel. He remembered vividly what needed to e done to create the imbalance - the harbinger of a forced misjump. The smile left his lips and was replaced by a thoughtful but absent glint in his eye………..