Cronus Passenger L Class Cruiser hovered in space-dock, listing from the weight of passengers boarding on the port side. Mrs. A. Liszka sat on her luggage, watching the first class passengers stand stiffly in line, trying to impress one another. It was all a joke really. People with real money had their own Private Class cruisers. These people were a mixture of new money and even worse, upper middle class wannabes.
Many of them were wearing ridiculously expensive designer clothes; you could tell because they were the sort of combinations no one else would be caught dead wearing. It was a fashion show, combining the ostentatious offerings of the ultra 'chic' designers and the equally flashy, but twice as frightening knock offs. And they all stood there, acting as if they owned the world. If only they had known just how ridiculous they all looked.
After the last FC passenger haughtily strolled in, Mrs. Liszka stood up and picked up her bags. She only had two; a large duffel bag and a smaller carry-on. Federal Cruising Regulations didn't allow for soft luggage to be checked into cargo. The duffel wasn't very heavy; it was stuffed with clothes and a couple of compartments filled with necessities. The carry-on held food. She was second class. Boarding pass in hand, she slung the duffel over her shoulder and approached the gate.

She handed the ticket to the clerk and walked down the long passageway to the ship itself. Stepping on board, she could feel the hum of the engines beneath her feet. She was directed to the starboard side and led by a steward down the stairs two levels below the promenade deck. Her cabin was at the end of a short hallway. The steward unlocked the door and handed her the keycard. He didn't bother to show her the room itself; she figured it was because second class travelers didn't tip well. She kicked the door forward with her foot, to allow herself room enough to fit in. Once inside, she had to place the duffel on the bed and stand aside for the door to slam shut. She didn't mind the small size so much. She felt the give of a square hatch underneath her feet and smiled. She looked around the cabin for light switches; at this price, nothing was voice activated.

Planetside, James Liszka sat at the kitchen counter, eating breakfast. The sun was rising and the birds in the nest outside were chirping excitedly. Several hours ago, his wife of three years had left for a vacation-without him. In the past months they hadn't been getting along. Who was he kidding, their entire relationship, marriage and all had been stormy at best. She was just as stubborn and closed mouthed as he was, which made for a lot of short, unfinished arguments. He hadn't even seen her off. Earlier that morning, he uttered the mandatory catch phrases - 'be careful', 'have a good time' and stay in touch' but frankly he was glad for the time alone. He watched with indifference as she had left the house for the shuttle to Port Elizabeth. She wasn't even to the end of the walkway when he closed the door and went back to bed. And besides, today was his day off; he was going to spend it with his pals, going to the Baolo game and getting drunk. And for the first time in three years, there was no one around to complain about it, or worse yet, ask to come along.

The giant door on Cronus Two-A14 slowly slid shut, sealing the inside from the space outside. Docking clamps were released, and thrusters guided the heavy cruiser away from the dock. The captains' voice crackled over the intercom, announcing departure. Mrs. Liszka stood on the promenade deck with the other passengers. They were all waving to friends and family, smiling and taking pictures. She scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. Not finding it, she decided that she had made the right decision. She turned her gaze instead to the scene around them as the ship eased out of port.
Port Elizabeth was one of the busiest ports in this quadrant, a midpoint for passengers and industrial materials alike. It was a bit like the ancient railroads in Old Chicago. Everyone had to stop there before continuing on. No matter what direction they were going. Departure was a delicate process. They were moving at quarter-thrusters; a ship this size couldn't exactly 'turn around' in port. In fact it couldn't even adjust course to avoid collision. That left all responsibility to other pilots to get out of the way. That didn't always work out, so a team of thirty traffic controllers was on duty, twenty-seven hours a day.

The entire departure took an hour and a half. Luxury class passenger cruisers always got first priority on departures. Otherwise, they wouldn't have departed for another three hours. Show over, Mrs. Liszka wandered around the ship settling in the dinnig room. Food was already available, and more than a few people were taking advantage of the fact that there were no lines at the buffets. She picked up a plate, and picked out something to eat and took a table by the window. It would be another hour before they hyper-jumped.
That was the main difference between this liner and Hunts-Gratzner; they had hyper jump capablities, HG didn't. That's what made it so expensive. By tomorrow morning they would be in the Carribbean Belt, named because of the many planets covered in sandy beaches; all well stocked with Hadrian Tequila. It was a popular destination. At any given time, there were tens of millions of tourists seeing the sites or relaxing. It was a perfect place to start.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" a voice startled Mrs. Liszka out of her reverie. She looked up to see a man holding a plated heaped with food. Glancing around, she could see the other tables had become occupied. Damn.
"Yeah, sure." She gestured to one of the chairs and he sat down. He was an older man, dressed in what was probably his Sunday suit. It was light blue with green pinstripes. The tie matched the blue satin shirt underneath.
"My wife is trying to decide if she wants Flavian salmon, or Alexander beef. I had a hard time deciding myself. In fact, I had such a hard time, I took some of both!" He chuckled at his own humor. Mrs. Liszka produced a semi-interested smile. A woman, somewhere in her sixties waddled to the table. She wasn't fat; most likely her shoes were killing her. These were old timers; they dressed up to travel.
"Well, hello!" the woman grinned, "Has my husband introduced himself, or did he just sit down and start eating?" she plopped into her chair, setting the plate on the lime green tablecloth. As suspected, the woman reached underneath the table and pried her shoes from her feet. Her husband, looking appropriately chastised, couldn't say anything-his mouth was full of food.
"Well, I'm Janet Hogglesworth, and this happily chewing piglet is my husband, Martin." She extended her hand.
"My name is Jaqueline Liszka, but everyone calls me Jack. Nice to meet you." They shook hands politely, as if meeting at Sunday school.
"Will your husband be joining us?" Janet inquired, looking at Jack's wedding ring. Jack smiled, hiding her irritation at not having taken it off. She leaned forward and with a conspiritorial look on her face, said:
"Nope…I'm on vacation." There was an awkward silence. Janet and Martin looked at her as if she had sprouted a third eye. Then they both burst into peals of laughter. It was so loud it echoed across half the dining room. Jack laughed too.
"I'm sorry. Jack. I don't mean to laugh at you. But it reminds me of a time when I did the same thing." Janet giggled as she spoke. "Say no more. I understand perfectly!" she kept giggling as she started to eat, making it hard for her to chew with her mouth closed. Martin was trying to keep from choking on his food. Jack giggled as Janet described the events that led up to their trial seperation seventeen years ago. It was a funny story, the way she told it. Jack was almost sorry she wouldn't get to see more of them. They were genuinely nice people, and she liked them. No point getting maudlin, she thought. They're strangers. After the cruise, you wouldn't ever see them again anyway.

The Hoggleworths had retired for the evening several hours ago. Jack wandered about the ship, making sure she was seen. She stopped and talked to several fellow travellers, even taking pictures for them and their friends. She went into the onboard gift shop and purchased a few necessities. Mainly deoderant, water bottles, some non-perishable food stuffs, and a navy blue oversized tote that locked, telling the cashier she expected to make a lot of purchases.
Back in her cabin, she changed clothes. That done, she pulled her purchases out of the bag and started transferring a few changes of clothing into the new tote. She put the food into the carry all with the food she had brought with her. Opening the duffel, she dug into the compartments holding her 'necessities' - a sonic screwdriver, a frequency enabler, a roll of wire and a wire cutter. The compartments were lined with titanium paper, so everything had gone undetected at checkin.
The bed was a fold out, so she lifted it and locked it in position. On the wall just underneath was a control panel. She opened her frequency enabler and punched in a generic code. A few seconds later, five numbers blipped on the screen. She pressed the enable button and the panel opened. Once the panel was open, she sat cross leged on the floor and started sorting wires and tracing comman relays. Grabbing the sonic screwdriver, she began to work.
Fifteen minutes later, she had completed her task. She looked at her work with pride. Relays had been rewired and in some cases disconnected. The stand-alone programming had been changed altogether. To the untrained eye, nothing would look different. James would have been proud of her. She had just bypassed the automatic alarm system. Now she could leave without alarms sounding on the bridge. In fact, the departure wouldn't even show up on the emergency displays. She closed the panel and put her tools into the blue tote. She pulled the ship itinerary out of her carry on. They would come out of hyperdrive at about four am. It was just now 9:00pm.
Taking a step back, she opened the panel in the floor and pressed the release button. The hatch slid open; Jack sat on her haunches, waiting. There were no alarms, no lights beeping, and no voice over the comm asking what she was doing. Satisfied, Jack threw the two bags down the narrow shaft. It was well lit, but narrow. She climbed down and once in, she pressed the close button and the hatch slid shut, locking automatically.
At the bottom, she had to reposition herself to use the frequency enabler to unlock the emergency shuttle. After ten minutes of program manipulation, the hatch was unlocked. It slid open and her bags dropped like two lead weights, clanging on the metal floor below. She held tightly to a rung as she turned a slow, cramped somersault to bring herself right side up. She closed the hatch and climbed the rest of the way down.
She stowed the food in an overhead bin. Taking her tools out once again, she stowed the tote in another small storage space behind the pilot seat. It was a nice sized ship. It had room enough for one pilot and three passengers. Swiveling the pilot seat out of the way, she lay on the floor and scooted back until she could get to the control panel underneath.
It was a daunting task, not because she didn't know what to do, but because she was so cramped. It took the better part of three hours to remove the transponder and reset the command program to function without it. All those months watching James had paid off.
Jack jerked awake, sleepy and a little disoriented. Her neck hurt from sleeping in the pilots' seat. There was a low whine in the cruiser engines, signalling the return to normal flight mode. She immediately began a preflight check. She had done one hours earlier, but better safe than sorry. Riddick had taught her that. When the cruiser shuddered out of hyperdrive, she pulled the detach lever and let the shuttle fall away from the departing ship. She counted to fifty before powering up the engines and setting coordinates for New Jamaica. She would be there in less than an hour. By the time they even missed the emergency shuttle, it would already be on the ground in a chop shop, being prepared for resale. James had taught her that.

Part 2

Jack circled the dusty landing pad. There was no indication of moisture anywhere. She wondered how this place had come to be called New Jamaica. From the looks of it, and what she had been told, rainy season wouldn't arrive for another two months. New Kenya would have been a better name. As it was, the whole place looked suspiciously like the desert. She hated it instantly. If she went the rest of her entire life without seeing another desert, it wouldn't be long enough.
Amos Lightfeather was standing on the edge of the perma-crete waving as she touched down. He was a lanky man; a recovered morphine addict. He had gained some weight since she had first met him. His skin was pockmarked, and his long hair was positively ratty, but he was an ok guy. Seeing him standing amiably in the swirling dirt, Jack remembered the first time they had met, several years ago.

"Was that the door?" James asked. Jack shrugged. She had heard the door chime, but ignored it. He was closer anyway, let him get it, she thought. James got up from the sofa and stretched as he walked to the door. Jack looked back up when he opened it; he was cursing a blue streak. She put her data pad down and watched with interest as he 'greeted' their visitor.
"What the fuck do you want?" James snapped, after a litany of profanity. The man standing on the outside looked like he had been slapped.
"So…you're still pissed?" he guessed. He was tall and skinny, his skin alone was frightening to behold. Jack knew immediately he was an addict. She chuckled; James hated druggies. She propped her head on her hands and listened to their conversation.
"What the fuck do you think? You get busted not twenty yards away from my shop, then tell them all about my business and you think I'd get over it? Are you insane?" James was restraining himself. Jack could tell he wanted to yell, but he didn't want the neighbors to hear, so he every word was a cross between a growl and a hiss. He was pretty amusing when he was angry. She straightened up when he turned to look at her.
"Come over here for a minute, babe. I want you to meet the biggest fuck-up of all time." Jack willingly complied. When she got to the door, the man extended his hand. She took it.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Amos Lightfeather, and you're…?" he asked. She smiled and shook his hand.
"Jaqueline. Call me Jack for short." She replied. He seemed nice enough. But then again, most losers did. Jack put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"This is my fiance. We're getting married in a month or so." James announced proudly. Then he turned serious.
"Do you get it? I've moved on. I can't help you anymore." He lied. From what Jack could tell, he was doing better than ever since Amos' arrest.
"I just need a place to stay for a few days, maybe a week. Hell, I'll stay in the garage. Come on, Jimmy. I own up to my mistake, but I helped you make a lot of money, once upon a time. And I never asked for much in return. I was there for you. Isn't that worth something?" he pleaded. It was pretty pathetic to Jacks' eye. James thought for moment.
"What about Charlie?" he asked. Amos shrugged.
"He's dead. He was hit by a perma-crete mixer." He answered dejectedly. James stifled a giggle. Jack clamped her mouth shut. No point hurting the mans' feelings. When James could trust himself to talk again, he offered another suggestion:
"What about the dude you got busted with?"
Amos ran a hand through his hair, or tried to. It was so tanlged his fingers got caught between the strands. He had to use his other hand to extricate them. Jack bit the inside of her lip. James was trembling.
"You mean the bounty hunter?" he asked finally, flicking dandruff from under his fingernails. Jack jerked sideways to avoid being hit by a flying clump of flakes.
"Yeah, what was his name?" James asked.
"Johns. They say he's dead too."
"What happened to him?" James inquired. Jack could feel her ears grow. She crossed her arms to keep herself from asking about the doomed bounty hunter.
"They don't know. They haven't actually found his body." Amos answered. Jack flinched when James burst into peals of laughter. He was a big man, and the whole doorway shook with his guffaws. She extricated herself from his arm, taking new interst in this man, Amos. She leaned on the other side as James reclaimed control of himself.
"Well, I'm sorry, pal. But you can't stay here. You're gonna have to go someplace else." James stated.
"There is no place else."Amos replied. Jack went inside to get her wallet and pulled out a card. She came back and gave it to Amos.
"Here. There's a hotel a few blocks up. There're about sixty credits on this, so you can stay three or four days. It's called The Fly By Night. You'll know it when you see it." she said. She ignored James' stare and watched as Amos stowed the card in a pocket.
Amos thanked her and looked at James one more time, waiting for James to say something else. After a moment, he turned and ambled down the street. James closed the door and looked at Jack, eyebrows furrowed. She shrugged and lied:
"I felt sorry for him. He just got out of prison, and he's got no where to go. If he's gonna make it this time, he needs somewhere to start. It's only fair." She fidgeted, trying to gage if James believed her or not. He sighed and shrugged.
"Don't be surprised if it's a wasted effort." He said at last. She smiled.
"I understand. But I just…." She spread her arms to make her point. James smiled back.
"I get it. But don't be disappointed, OK?" his words were intended to soothe her. She shook her head, and sat back down, pretending to read again. Her mind was racing with possiblities. This man had been busted dealing to Johns. He had to know something about the man, maybe people he knew. At the very least, he knew some of James' old contacts. The first glimmer of a plan sparkled in her mind.
She waited two days before venturing to the seedy hotel to see what kind of arrangement she could make with him.

Jack stepped into the dry air, carrying her two bags. She dropped them to give Amos a hug. He took the bags and led her to a hut constructed entirely of sheet metal. He talked as they walked.
"The deal is all set but Roseanne is kind of formal. You have to be formally introduced. Once that's done, and if she likes you everything'll go just fine. So be nice. If she doesn't like you, you don't get off the ground. Got it?" he asked. Jack nodded.
"Believe it or not, I can be nice when I want to be. Long as I get what I came for, I don't really give a damn." She responded. She followed at a liesurely pace as they approached the rusty structure. Amos opened the door, and she stepped in.
It was dark, and very damp. She quickly identified the whease of an overworked humidifier in a corner. She struggled to get her breath as her eyes adjusted to the light. The air was almost dripping with moisture. It was condensing on her skin. Amos was also sporting drops of water. He was having a hard time adjusting to the man made climate.
There was a desk. More likely a table, covered for the most part with spare parts, some old, some new; all dusty. A large woman sat on the other side-Roseanne, she guessed.
"That the shuttle you tol' me 'bout?" the woman rasped. Jack quickly identified her as a smoker.
"Yeah, that's it. Three years old, never been used. Well, except for in-n-nitial transport, I mean." Amos stammered. Jack forced herslef to remain calm. Sometimes he could go over the top with his 'I'm so scared of you' routine.
"Whos' this?" Roseanne asked. Amos stepped forward.
"This is Jack. Jack this is Roseanne. This is the one I was tellin' you about."
Roseanne looked Jack up and down. Jack didn't move.
"Come over here. Let me get a closer look." She ordered. Jack hesitated before complying. Amos hadn't mentioned anything about this.
"You're a pretty little thing, arent ya?" she intoned. Jack didn't like the sound of that. She looked to Amos for a sign. He was pointedly staring at a sign for GoodMillenium Power Cells.
"How 'bout we…revise our little agreement? Amend the particulars a bit?" Roseanne patted Jacks' thigh, sending a shiver of revulsion from her head to her toes. Jack smiled politely, removing the fleshy hand that was roaming way too freely.
"I prefer to be friends first." Jack replied, trying to inch away. A thick arm wrapped itself around her hips, halting her escape.
"You sure? I know a few tricks. Hell, I could teach you things that would make you friends blush!" Roseanne bragged. Jack chuckled, trying to think of something to say. Her revulsion wasn't based on the fact that Roseanne was female; hell she had experimented herself. But Roseanne was really ugly. And her hair was so oily, it lay on her scalp like wet leaves. And three of her front teeth were missing. Jack thought she caught a whiff of something that smelled dead.
"I've got a deadline. If I stick around playing games, I'll be late. And if I want to keep my ass, I gotta go." She improvised, trying to infer that she had superiors waiting for her." Roseanne chuckled, sounding like a sick dog coughing and patted Jack on the behind.
"Timing is everything, ain't it? So, you want to reprogram the card yoou got, or you want a new one?" she asked, suddenly all business. Jack wriggled herself out of Roseannes' grasp.
"New." She said as calmly as possible. She turned her attention back to Amos, to no avail. Now he was staring at an air filter. Sighing, as if affected by the excessive humidity, she watched as Roseanne produced a reader to program a new account-card. Turning to a datalink Jack hadn't noticed before, Roseanne established an account under a fake name. Once that was done, she transferred the money from the card Jack had brought into a false retail account, and then into the new one, minus five percent. Handing the card to Jack, she stared openly at Jacks' chest. Jack slithered from behind the desk to safety. Amos was suddenly 'alert' and completely aware of what was going on. She wanted to kick him in the balls. Time enough for that later. Amos picked up the bags as Roseanne reached into a drawer to retrieve a boarding pass. Jack reached for it, but Roseanne held it out of her reach.
"So, how long do you think it'll be before I see you again?" she asked with a sly grin. Jack tilted her head as if thinking.
"Who knows? Tomorrow? Next week? Six months from now? I don't have a clue. Give me your comm card and I'll let you know when I'm in the neighborhood." She said with as much sincerity as she could muster. Roseanne produced the comm card and handed it to her with the account card. Jack smiled and tucked them both in her pants pocket.
"You need anything else?" Roseanne asked. Jack nodded. Amos did the same.
"So why are you still here? You got a lot of ground to cover if you're gonna make your flight." She was dismissing them. Jack led Amos to the door.
Once outside, Jack punched Amos in the back. He stumbled forward, trying to maintin hold of her bags. By the time she had him turned around, he was laughing freely.
"You knew she was gonna do that, didn't you? And you let me walk right into it!" Jack demanded, "You fucking son of a bitch" Amos couldn't stop laughing long enough to speak. Jack gave up and stomped to a waiting skiff.
"Is this it?" she asked, as if there were a row of vehicles lined outside. Amos shook his head, giggling in spurts. He could barely walk and carry the bags, his entire frame was shaking with smothered laughter. After a moment, Jack chuckled too. Once the bags were stowed, Jack climebd into the drivers' seat, not trusting Amos' driving skills.
"Did you have any problems with any of the other stuff?" she asked, becoming serious again. Amos sobered as he climbed into the passenger seat.
"Nope, so far, so good." He replied. Jack brought the engine to life and the skiff jolted forward.
"You're sure?" Jack confirmed. Amos shook his head enthusiastically.
"Everything is good to go."