Jessica Miller, one of the triumvirate herself, sat at the far end of the long table in the back office of the admin building and watched as her personal assistant and the two marines she had sent with her returned with Emerson. She smiled and offered the pilot a seat before getting to the point.

"Someone's stolen a supply of compound C-139, the very barrels you were shipping to the colony in fact, we believe they're making luna chrome." She told Emerson as he sat. "This isn't an accusation." She reassured him. "But you were one of the last people to handle the cargo. We just need to know if you noticed anyone or anything suspicious while it was being loaded or unloaded from your ship. We need to get control of this before it gets out of hand."

Emerson raised both his eyebrows at that. He remembered Luna Chrome from Typhon V, a nasty narcotic and methamphetamine that lined the pockets of many chain gangs upon Beeter's Cradle. He often carried it in a smuggle run but he never touched it. At the time, half the gang was hooked on it and he never enjoyed watching what friends he had suffer when it had finally taken its toll.

"Oh..." Emerson blurted. "Um, uhhhhhhh," he thought out loud, trying to think of last night. But it seem his regrets of last night were not done with him yet, his memory was rather fuzzy on the details of the previous night. He got back to base, easy peasy. He remembered the bar when someone said...

No, now he remembered. He really had to take a leak when they landed, running off the tarmac at a sprint to the nearest tree, a good hundred yards away. The ground crew had to drive all the way to the pad, the site cleared out to a hundred yards. The bright and sunny afternoon sun was setting, light casted across the flat land to illuminate only where he stepped in the grass. The marines were around the ship securing casualties.

"I, uh- I honestly don't know, ma'am," he started. "I had a call of nature, but the marines gathered around my ship while we waited for medics."

He paused. "Well, I must say ma'am, I have dealt with this stuff before. Perhaps I can be of use?"

His thoughts flashed back to Beeter's Cradle, all those years running packages that were mostly inconspicuous except in rare cases. And remembering the chrome dens that he sometimes delivered to, most people high off their ass to do much of anything except crazy.

When she questioned him, he merely shrugged. "Got anyone from Beeter's Cradle?"

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