As the Kalitá had begun to run through its cooling cycle I took a good look out of the bridge viewports. The red sky swirling with black clouds was menacing, but judging by the smoke billowing upwards the atmosphere was not subject to any high winds. The starport was a cheap affair — the pad we were on was just a cleared and flattened patch of dirt with a few simple green and blue lights, the building itself was a ramshackle metal structure that had seen better days but at least looked to be airtight, connected to what I assumed was a small warehouse.

Barely had the cooling cycle started when I spotted a figure walking slowly from the building across to us, dressed in an HEV suit, perhaps struggling a little against the gravity in the cumbersome protection. The next thing I knew was that the figure was banging on the airlock door and I headed out of the bridge to see what the problem was.

The figure was holding up a laminated badge to the airlock window identifying them as the Customs Officer for the starport so we opened the outer airlock door and let the figure inside, then cycling the system.

After removing his helmet the figure introduced himself as Uro Phell and began explaining the customs on the world. He also wanted the passenger manifest and to see the freight and cargo containers before they could be unloaded. He was hard to understand sometimes, his Anglic interspersed by snippets of Zdetl and curses in Gvedh, much of which went right over my head. His poking around the ship was unnerving but there didn't seem to be many options for us.

After what seemed like an eternity, Uro seemed satisfied and started to head back to the airlock, after informing us that fuel was available but unrefined and at Cr300 per ton at that. Berthing fees were Cr125 per day which wasn't as much as I expected.

Despite Uro's HEV suit he informed us that the atmosphere was fine for short periods, so the passengers could disembark and head across to the starport terminal to be checked in, where environment suits and suitable filter masks were available if the passengers so desired them — for a "suitable" fee I was sure. Annie headed off to inform the passengers as I let Uro out of the airlock.

It took nearly an hour to slowly usher all of the passengers from the ship and a further thirty minutes or so before a large iron trolley was wheeled up to the cargo bay doors by a solitary workman in stained overalls and a breather mask to collect their bulk luggage from the hold. Closing down our systems and getting the fuel lines connected are the next priorities for us.

#0001 — 014-1106 @ 2100 to 014-1106 @ 2330 IST Ω

My attention was definitely turned towards the freight and cargo now that the passengers had been disembarked. The fuel we had spent to jump to Beck's World needed to be replaced and the steep price of Cr300 for the unrefined fuel reminded me of our need to get credits and quickly. I left Otto in charge of attaching the fuel lines and reporting in to the starport to start the refuel process, with the fuel processors working at full tilt to refine the fuel. Otto suggested this would take at least 24 hours.

With the fuel lines connected I decided to head over to the starport to arrange for the freight to be unloaded. A single person with a rusty trolley wouldn't cut it. I took a breather mask from the ship's locker, just in case, but wanted to experience what it was like to breathe in the air on another world for the first time.

The walk across to the starport building was indeed an experience — the slightly stronger gravity made the muscles in my legs hurt and the air almost felt as though I were breathing soup. It took a little getting used to, but I persevered and found Uro Phell inside the port building with his legs up on a table. He was a wiry man and not one I sensed I could trust. He gave me a price of Cr20 per ton of freight to unload them and get them checked in, which I reluctantly agreed to. Once they were all in the starport warehouse the freight fee would be wired into my account.

When I asked Uro about any traders or brokers, however, he seemed less interested, stating that if I wanted anything else then I would need to go into Beck's Town, past the extrality point, paying Cr200 per person for the privilege.

It wasn't long before being back at the ship when a pair of starport workers banged on the airlock, with a large wheeled cart with them. With the help of the loading belt in the cargo hold and Otto's persistence it didn't take too long to get the freight unloaded.

#0002 — 014-1106 @ 2330 to 015-1106 @ 0100 IST Ω

In the morning I was pleasantly surprised to get the notification that the credits for the freight were in the Kalitá's account already and after talking to the crew we all decided we could do with a stretch of our legs and see what interest in Beck's Town could be found.

We headed through the chain-linked fence and extrality line after paying our fees to Uro Phell and headed towards Beck's Town. The town itself was a mixture of smoke and ash-stained domes with coarse holographic signs flashing irregularly advertising the central dome — "Beck's Dome" — where it appeared "food and girls" could be found.

Heading through the double-staged doors into the dome we were hit with the sound of loud music and immediately Annie began to smile, the dome was dominated by the colony's only bar in the centre with smaller establishments around the circumference. The air inside was warm and although devoid of the ash from without it had a greasy, burnt tang. It was still relatively early as far as IST time went and there were only a handful of patrons in the bar — the 30 or so hour "day" on Beck's World allowed for an extra sleep cycle and many of the locals were taking advantage of that.

The bartender was a scruffy and thin human, bare-chested with scarlett tattoos across his back and was more than happy to see new blood in the bar. He seated us down at the bar, away from the staring locals as we noticed and began to get us some drinks. I left it to Annie, who seemed in her element, to make the light talk and get the lay of the land

We spent a good hour or so with a couple of drinks sat at the bar whilst Annie plied the bartender, Callum, for any good gossip. Some of the advice he gave us was quite sensible — many of the locals in town were nasty pieces of work, drifters and low-paid maintenance workers that wouldn't think twice about using whatever violence needed to clean you out of money if you were caught out in the town on your own. The local militia, the Thanes, would turn a blind eye to it if it suited them.

When Annie asked if the Imperium held any sway on the planet Callum snarled and told us the the official consul, Fedic Jocan, spent most of his time in his office drunk out of his brains, and was no good to anyone. Fedic had done nothing to stop the "off world eggheads stealing treasure", presumably the University of Regina scientists and archaeologists at the Ancients' dig site, and in fact was was probably helping them ship things off world to be sold for a profit that none of the good citizens on Beck's World would ever see any of.

After explaining that we were nothing to do with the researchers and were simply a merchant ship crew passing through rimward the bartender seemed to calm down a little, even offering that what he'd seen of the dig site was quite interesting, but most of it was cordoned off these days. He did offer that he knew of a guide who lived out on the lava fields and came into town once in a while, a Vargr called Gvarrul, who would take us to the dig site for Cr1,000 if we wanted.

With Callum's attention taken by another customer, James and I wandered across to the some of the smaller offices at the edge of the dome, spotting a couple of small places to get something else to eat other than the bar itself, a hardware store selling simple tools and fittings and to my delight, a small brokerage.

James and I went into the office an enquired about the brokerage services, giving a view of the goods that we wanted to sell as well as ask about any potential cargo they had for sale. The clerk, or at least I assumed it was a clerk, took the details down on paper, which was quaint, and set up an appointment for the following early evening, planet time.

With that set, we went back to the bar to join the others, had one last drink and split our bill, and then headed back to the Kalitá.

The ship was still being refuelled and the low noise of the fuel processors working away made me drowsy but I needed to prepare for the brokerage the next day. If our target was Regina , at least to begin with, then from Beck's World it was either to Feri and then on to Roup or it was Enope and on to Wochiers . None of the other routes made much sense, at least not one that got to Regina quickly.

If we had made enough money on trades before Regina we might be able to have the thrusters and sensors seen to at Regina's starport. Enope and Wochiers was away from the X-boat route, so my thinking was that this route would be less busy with more chance of good trade.

#0003 — 015-1106 @ 1100 to 015-1106 @ 1400 IST Ω

Without having to worry about passengers it was a lot easier to get a good night's sleep and I felt very refreshed in the morning. As I grabbed some breakfast in the passenger lounge, I did, however, mention to Annie that we did need to look for more passengers onwards, likely to Enope. Annie suggested she was already on the case and was going to try and find Gebke Schnell, one of our previous party, who had seemed to indicate that she wanted to go further than Beck's World.

As Annie had the passenger list in hand I decided it was time to get back to the brokerage and see if we could get the cargo sold and some new goods purchased. Not wanting to go just on my own, wary of what the bartender had talked about the previous evening, I convinced James to accompany me.

We headed out into the heavy air of the starport and back across to the extrality line. The sun, bright and large in the sky, was managing to spear through the black clouds not far after midday on the world as local time had it. Picking our way back to the dome and across to the small brokerage took little time. The clerk was there and after a few minutes waiting we were ushered into an even smaller office where a short fat man sat behind a metal desk.

The man introduced himself as Hoyt Carthen, of "Beck's Dome Supplies", and from there our negotiations began.

Carthen almost salivated over the prospect of getting his hands on the computers we had in the hold and the price we agreed on was beyond where I thought we would get.

He drove a harder bargain on the foodstuffs, though, but we still managed to make a small profit. Between the two sets of cargo we made a profit of Cr44,100 which covered our fuel and more, especially when combined with the cargo and passengers.

I then proposed that we could purchase some goods from Carthen and asked him for what stock he may have, particularly items that would sell well in Enope.

The items that caught my eye where the compounds and the plastics, which would always sell well on a developing world like Enope in need of materials to help their mining processes.

The price for the compounds was really good and I made the decision to buy the whole lot. When we started to talk about the plastics, however, Carthen would not sell for anything less than Cr7,700 which I thought was far too expensive. I would be lucky to even break even on that. For now, I'd have to settle for just the compounds and would likely need to look elsewhere for more cargo or for any freight.

Heading out of the brokerage after discussing delivery of the cargo, James and I headed back to the bar. A different bartender was there this time, a scruffy Vargr, and the bar was starting to get busy. I asked about Callum, but the Vargr seemed disinterested in my request without first getting a drink, so I just asked if there was another brokerage on the planet.

It looks as though I'll have to talk to Uro Phell again, unfortunately. The consulate was the other side of the starport from Beck's Town, so Phell would need to let me through the other gate. I expect that will cost me more money, though, and from what I've heard the consul was a drunk. I'm getting a bad feel about this one.

#0004 — 016-1106 @ 1100 to 016-1106 @ 1400 IST Ω

Going to speak to Uro Phell filled me with a sense of dread on how much the experience was going to cost me, but it did not turn out as bad as I thought it would. He did decline to let me into the starport building, which was his prerogative as the customs officer, however it was uncomfortable standing out there on the the blasted rock that made up the pad whilst he explained in his curious accent how the brokerage had already sent him a communique and that there was some cargo that needed to be moved to and from the warehouse.

Word seemed to travel quickly here where money was concerned, though the cost to organise this was not huge, another Cr20 per dton to be moved. Our goods that were to be sold and those that we had purchased. Another strike against the books and perhaps over time we will have to work out how we can avoid some of these charges by handling some of the carriage ourselves in the future.

After agreeing for Uro and his staff — at least I assumed they were staff — to shift things around for us I broached the subject of the consul, Fedic Jocan. Uro made a meal of the "inconvenience" that we were putting him to and that he would have to go and get the "special" keys to open the other gate in the fence that led out to the consul.

I must have sighed quite loudly when I ran my credit chip over his reader and I was sure I could see him chuckling in his HEV helmet. Still, he was as good as his word and led James and I across the starport to the far corner of the fence and started to unlock a large gate.

Beyond the gate was a path carved in the rock that led up onto a plain, with rivulets of still hot lava slowly trundling away and down the sides of the starport with what looked like a small volcano steaming away. Not too far from the rise of the volcano was a large round dome, covered in ash, soot and grime and in a state of fairly bad repair from a distance. A reddish glow from within could have been a good sign of homeliness or could equally have been the glow of lava that had encroached into the building.

As we headed closed, quite gingerly, we were relieved to see that it was a glow from internal lights though as we got near to the doors we heard the wail of someone in pain. No, not pain, it was just the most horrific singing I had heard. Annie would be distraught.

James and I headed into the building, the door was open, and followed the strangled words that were being barked out. The sounds drew us to a central chamber, perhaps once used as a reception area with places set for people to meet, greet, wine and dine. Sat in the corner, crying out his song, was a young man dressed in a while vacc suit with the helmet next to him on the floor. He was swinging around a clear plastic bottle with some sort of blue liquid inside, taking a drink once in a while and holding it up at the end of a verse to the painting hung on the wall above his head of Emperor Paulo III. His other hand was handcuffed to a black case. As we nudged ourselves closer, I spotted a nametag discreetly marked on the suit. 'Jocan'.

My heart sank. The likelihood of having a serious conversation about trade appeared to be very low.

As I cleared my throat, trying to make as polite an entrance as I could, the consul jerked around to look at us, his singing temporarily suspended. He grabbed the case with both hands and looked at us suspiciously, peering with narrowed eyes. I was about to say something, likely something wrong, but before I could act the usually quiet James strode forwards, made a quick bow and greeted the drunken consul as though he was the Emperor himself.

Within a few minutes of conversation James appeared to have the consul's confidence, and we were ushered to a table towards the centre of the room. The consul, who wished us to call him Fedic, made his excuses to go and "tidy himself up" a little and left James and I alone for a while.

When he came back, Fedic had relieved himself of his vacc suit and had on more comfortable attire, but still had the black case attached to his left arm. He was plainly drunk, but was managing to cover it up as best he could. In a moment of curious self-indulgence he whispered to us that being the consul to Beck's World had been a "kiss of death" for his career in the diplomacy corps. It appeared that he now spent most of his time getting drunk on synthetic liquor filtered through volcanic rock whilst pleading with the ruling gang, the Thanes, not to hurt anyone of importance, and most importantly him. There was no "real" diplomacy here.

Without much prompting he gave an abridged history of the world — how it had harboured a pirate base for some time, then a small listening base eased the way for Beck's World to become a fully-fledged member of the Imperium. After a mineral survey and the discovery of the Ancients' tunnels it opened the gates for a number of archaeologists and researchers from the University of Regina. As the numbers grew the locals did not appreciate the fact that artefacts were being shipped off to Regina and other locations, despite the fact that now as an Imperial world, the artefacts by very definition belonged to His Imperial Majesty.

Keeping the consul talking I asked politely about any specific trade, freight or even mail that he wanted to ensure made its way to Enope, in the hope we may be able to secure a deal.

It appeared that in the warehouse at the starport there were a number of Imperial-owned goods that needed shipping to Enope. As a cold and frigid world the goods that seemed to make the most sense to me were the textiles and warm clothing and I quickly moved in to bargain with the Consul, his inexperience in how trade and brokerages worked hopefully working to my advantage.

Fedic agreed to a good price, at least for us, and the goods were electronically signed across to us. No doubt it would add to our cargo handling fee from Uro Phell, but that was acceptable for the rate that we had paid.

James and I attempted to make our leave several times, however the consul could talk. A lot. And he wanted us to listen. Trying to remain polite we stayed and listened as attentively as we could, trying as little as possible of the liquor he poured out for us both.

Fortunately, after a while, he started to doze off and we carefully and quietly made our way out of the consulate dome and headed back to the ship.

#0005 — 016-1106 @ 1500 to 016-1106 @ 2100 IST Ω

When James and I got back to the ship we found that both Annie and Otto had been busy. Otto had stripped some sections of the manoeuvre drive and had started to work out some of the problems that the Kalitá carried with being such an old and used ship. I say he'd found the problems, but the solution would need a decent starport and repair facilities, not to mention the money and the spare parts. At least we had some idea of the scale of the issue and the fact that it could be repaired.

Annie had managed to secure some more passengers for the straightforward hop to Enope, including Gebke Schnell who had been with us since Kinorb. She had also arranged for some passengers to take Low Berths, to which James nodded and headed off through the cargo bay to start preparing the berths and giving them one final check, though he'd checked them several times already in the past few days. Anyone would think he was a little nervous.

With a few checks of my own on the accounts and to go through any preparations for us leaving I decided to turn in for the night.

When I woke the next morning there was a message waiting for me from the Starport Authority and the customs officer, Uro Phell. He had left a voice message, rather than just coming to see me, stating that our passes through the extrality line had expired and that if we wanted to go back into Beck's Town and the dome that we would "unfortunately" have to pay another passage fee. Apparently, it was "out of his hands" and it couldn't be avoided.

After a quick chat with the crew we decided the best thing was to stay on the ship, get the cargo loaded and the passengers on board and then lift off at the arranged time of 16:00 IST. Phell did seem disappointed that there wasn't another fee coming his way, but seemed content by the fact that the cargo handling came to a stiff Cr1,000 and that we had to finalise the berthing cost of Cr500. I also ordered a jump tape for Enope to ensure we had the latest orbitals, which set me back another Cr250.

Waiting patiently for all of the cargo to be loaded and for the passengers to slowly trickle on board seemed to last an eternity, but at last our departure time came and from the relative quiet of the bridge, I took the Kalitá up in a slow arc and out of the atmosphere of Beck's World.

The trip out to the safe jump distance was uneventful, with the blackness of space our only company. I spent the majority of time taking a slow and steady approach to the astrogation plot, using the new orbitals from the jump tape and being thorough, checking the calculations at least three times.

I must have spent longer than I thought on the numbers, as the notification came through from the helm that we were at the jump point barely as I finished.

James had been taking the Low Berth passengers into the berths one by one during the journey and he confirmed that everything was in order. Annie had ensured that the other passengers were comfortable in their staterooms and were settling down for the evening — it was well past midnight now and the traditional Captain's Dinner would need to wait until tomorrow.

I gave the order for Otto to bring the jump drives online as we slowed to a stop and then dimmed the lights. A tiny moment passed and then we were back in Jumpspace.

#0006 — 017-1106 @ 0900 to 018-1106 @ 0200 IST Ω