24: 79-02-62

_One day as I was under the port wing tearing out a jammed spanner, my contact walked up.

_"How is it?"

_"Crap. But crap is cheap."

He chuckled and I rolled out.

_"How badly do you need money?"

_"I'm not begging; but open to offers."

_"And you said you are a good pilot? Combat?"

_"Yes and yes."

_He looked at me for a moment. Just stared straight into my eyes... "My name is Reichart."

_A little aback at this, I answered, "Now names matter, huh. Well I'm Thalen."

_We walked to the open door of my rental hangar. There he handed me a cloth badge and pointed to a ratty trunk sitting in the back of his truck. Reichart then told me to be in front of the tavern at dawn to get picked up. We shook on it and parted ways for then.

_Back in my room that night, I opened the trunk. In it was light body armor, an old-style jumpsuit, a pair of boots just my size, and a 'rover' style helmet with surplus HUD and full optical suites. Everything was put out on my bed. I looked back into the empty box and noticed that it seemed slightly shallow. A quick check with my hands proved that there was an extra six inches between the bottom of the inside and outside.

_My fingers swept along the inner corners, then felt all the outside, until finally I found a 'nail' that pushed in.

_The inside panel detached, and I lifted it out. Contained was a survival carbine and a good-sized pistol. Also there were current editions of Force manuals - usually contraband for civilians.

_My first reaction was that I was supposed to be getting away from all this.

_My second was more like: God, I need to shoot something...