Then there was the even more puzzling question of how anyone knew about the ship. Security was tight at the shipyard and there was no indication of where it might have been breached. Grudgingly the case had been closed unless someone discovered new information.
Of the remaining three one of them had lived in the region of the galaxy of Colesque, the area in which Orarra was located and had extensive contacts there. The two others had no particular knowledge or involvement with the Constrictor, and had been selected simply for being people good for the job who were available at the right time.
They had now left the dockyard complex and were headed towards the co-ordinates for Witchspace entry. Numerous craft, both civilian and military, thronged the area. Police patrols, freighter convoys, private lone- wolf traders, and probably a number of pirates and a few bounty hunters masquerading as tradecraft were all present, and for the time being obeying the rules. Until they were as out of sight as could be managed and where everyone had to live on their wits.
As a priority military mission SysCon had granted them immediate departure into the Faraway jump. The transport slowed, awaiting final hyperspace permission. When it came the ship moved forwards again, slowly, angling for the theoretically perfect position to make hyperspace as risk-free an event as could be possible. There was nothing else to indicate that the single-use galactic hyperdrive motor was powering up, that could send them hundreds of times further than the standard drives, into a completely different area of the galaxy. As a military model it had far greater precision than those available to civilians (which could only lock onto a random system when the craft was almost in the area) and had been targeted on Orarra, the last known location of the Constrictor. And in an instant it engaged, and the ship vanished.
They emerged from hyperspace several days later. The planet Orarra was a scorched red-brown disc in the distance, burnt by its distant and hot sun. A few minutes later two more specks of light appeared. They slowly resolved themselves into Viper-class fighter ships, the escort for the relatively unprotected transport.
The planet was reached without incident, and before long the task group was sitting in the quiet bar of the hotel where accommodation had been provided for them in the station Dodec Four. There were four stations orbiting the planet. One of the team would go to each whilst the fifth would contact the planetary authorities in the hope that they had any knowledge of what was going on. Not that there was much hope that they would have, but since only the space stations and not the planet were directly controlled by the Galactic Co- Operative the Navy had no official authority on the surface. Unofficial enquiries were only generally made after the gestures towards legality had been completed.
Emily Barbeth was the member of the team to visit Orarra Station Three. Early next morning a shuttle flew her over. Moving away from the landing platform towards the information displays lining the walls at its back was a map of the station. The stations were built as a standard shell with the essential facilities included but the rest of the interior differed depending upon the local needs and resources. The headquarters of the Orarra Corporation, who controlled all interstellar trade at the planet, were located some distance away at the address of Carrock House, Sarros Square, Facet 4. Outside the spaceport and its jostling crowds of humans and aliens Barbeth found a taxi to take her there. The small autonomous vessel lifted off into the central void of the station. The walls and ceiling of the taxi were transparent and through them the interior of the station was an impressive, if dizzying sight. Straight above, three quarters of a mile distant the interior of the opposite face was a blaze of light in the sky. Curving around to meet it were walls no less impressive. The pentagonal facets of the station were difficult to discern under their covering of buildings, parks and farmland and the appearance was more of the interior of a sphere. The Dodo and Coriolis space stations found in orbit around all planets of the Galactic Co-Operative were more than just trading posts, they were small worlds in their own right.
The taxi was heading towards one of the "walls". Since it was station daytime the whole interior was well illuminated, but the dense network of lighting still made the area ahead show up as being a largely built-up area. Numerous other taxi craft darted to and fro from the complex to the rest of the station, amidst them was the occasional larger bus or supply van.
The taxi landed in a square in front of Carrock House. It was an imposing building as befitted the importance of the organisation it housed. Flags from poles jutting out the front proudly displayed the Corporation logo and its name was emblazoned above the doorway.
Inside the building Barbeth was greeted with the usual unimaginative "How can I help you?" from the receptionist in the foyer.
The permission to review the trading logs and more importantly the security video footage of the docked craft loading and unloading their cargo was obtained by means of a borrowed GalCop pass that Naval Intelligence had obtained for the job. It was unlikely that anyone carrying such a "hot" cargo would allow themselves to be seen like this, more probably they had left the system without going anywhere near the planet itself - if they knew what they had found.
The man who arrived to assist her was smartly dressed, somewhat in contrast to his wild hair. He introduced himself as Darhil Peyers, one of the numerous managers of the Corporation. Bad publicity was something that they were keen to avoid and tried they usually tried to persuade someone reasonably high up in the organisation to deal with anything that looked like an official enquiry.
Barbeth took his hand. "Nobody is checking up on you," she reassured him with a slight smile. "We just need to make use of your records to try to track down someone who might have passed through here."
Peyers grinned back. "We just try to be of service as best we can. I'm here to help, not to put a good face on for what might be someone poking their nose into our business."
"Should someone be?" Barbeth said.
Peyers laughed. "Please come with me," he said, leading her into the heart of the building. "What is it you are looking for, then?"
"Some salvaged scrap that might have passed through here recently. Anything that looks like it was just picked up from space."
"You'll have a lot of searching to do then, I'm afraid," Peyers told her. The room they entered was equipped with a variety of computer interfaces. A couple of chairs were sat at a desk, a coffee machine stood in one corner. Barbeth looked at it curiously.
"It's an antique," Peyers said. "It's not very valuable, though, and getting coffee for it is pretty difficult. I wouldn't bother trying it anyway if I were you. It's a traditional 'Makes undrinkable ditchwater' model."
"Some things never change. I've got everything I need here. Thankyou for your assistance." She waved Peyers out, ignoring his slightly indignant expression at being so swiftly dismissed.
The scrap merchant who had led them onto the trail of the debris had received it two months ago, and it would have taken a minimum of another four weeks for it to have reached him from here. At the other end of the scale the Constrictor had been destroyed two years ago. The amount of debris so far accounted for suggested that it had not had a chance to drift too far away from the place of destruction. So, anywhere within a twenty-one month period was the possible time-frame, probably nearer to the start of it than later. With hundreds of spacecraft passing through the system a day that was a dauntingly large time. The search parameters were entered into the computer. If nothing could be found she would know about it in an estimated three hours time.