I did not get a warm welcome the next time I docked into Holden Station. It would have been much worse if Menry knew what ship I was flying and what my CMDR ID was, but it always pays to be paranoid and keep contacts in the dark as much as you can. If you can recruit them easily, chances are someone else can too.

The swarm of private station security at the docks were a pretty big and heavily armed clue to the shitstorm I was walking into. Menry did not know I was coming, and the purpose of my visit was slightly different this time around; I was to smuggle things out, not in. In particular, I needed trade manifestos. I knew who I was supplying weapons for, but those were not the only arms making their way into the station. And my boss really wanted to know.

As head stevedore of Holden Station, I figured Menry could divulge that information in exchange for some extra cash so he could go about gambling and maintaining his numerous other vices. I just didn’t expect him to be so forthcoming with all sorts of information to anyone who asked in even the most vaguely threatening fashion.

I wandered around the station, eavesdropping on the chatter at the docks and the local watering holes, buying a couple of locals some drinks to loosen their tongues, and generally skulking around the place. Enough time to paint a good picture of the situation at hand. The Progressive Party was losing influence fast, and if the other powers kept getting their hands on weapons, their control over the whole system would be in jeopardy.

And they knew about my existence.

The information on me they would have received from Menry would not be much, but it would not take them long to piece things together. You don’t get to run a system without a certain degree of skills, both legal and otherwise.

Under normal circumstances I would have just packed up my things and put as much distance as possible. But I was employed now. It wasn’t just the credits; it was the Teamsters Logistics Corporation. The smuggling I had been doing was not to turn a profit, there was a purpose behind it, and this kind of situation was a possible side effect I had to deal with.

I had to suck it up and follow through, ignoring the very instincts that had kept me alive for so long, to just panic and run.

On the upside, it also meant I had more resources at my disposal. Say what you will about corporations, the fact that you can write off work expenses had proven to be an enormous boon in my short time working for them. They were not even terribly strict as to what constituted an expense, as long as the paperwork was filled out properly.

The thing about instincts and self-preservation is that, once honed, they were hard to turn off. If I had to ignore them and get myself killed, I figured, I might as well go all in. Even if that meant I had to die.

Buying a used ship from questionable sources is an easy endeavour, especially if you did not value your long term health much. Those things were rarely submitted to official safety inspections, and the sellers knew their customers well enough to not even pretend. But they were considerably cheaper than their well-maintained counterparts, and I was sure my boss would appreciate my fiscal responsibility.

I spent the next two hours making my final preparations, visiting another of my contacts, buying some extra rounds of drinks at the cantinas, and being the least discreet as possible. By the time I climbed into the old beaten-up Federal Dropship I had just purchased, the Progressive Party was well aware of my presence in their station. As soon as the engines came online and my ship was released from the bay, they were scrambling to intercept. A look at the ships modules basically guaranteed that I would not be able to outrun or outfight anything faster or stronger than a corrugated cargo box.

I cleared the port and boosted out the station, fighter ships scrambling behind me. But before they could get any closer, and just barely 20 kilometers away from the station, I opened up the emergency panel on the ship and hit the self-destruct button.