//------------------------------//
// Intermission - Everyone Needs A Breather 
// Story: The Stars Beyond The Veil 
// by Charlemane 
//------------------------------//


Intermission:


Everyone Needs A Breather


“You know what I need? I need a break. I’ve been doing this for too long.”





   What happened on the cargo ship left me rattled for quite some time. After getting picked up by the local militia, Nightshade and I were dragged back to Winter’s Edge and interrogated—Separately, I might add. Apparently, blowing up a derelict cargo ship containing a deadly virus aimed at poisoning food supplies, warranted a full debriefing, and some very pointed questions about how we ended up there in the first place. I happily told them everything I knew, which was nothing. The whole damn outing had been sprung on me under the guise of an ordinary scrap job. Though, after the trouble we went through beforehand, I should have realized I couldn’t trust Nightshade.

  We were held up in processing for a day. I managed to get some sleep in a cell, courtesy of their police department, before being toted off to the medical centers for a mandatory radiation scrub. Lucky for us, the virus we had been exposed to had been cooked off of our suits, but we still needed treatment for our radiation burns. Recovering from that took time. We were both held under surveillance then finally released. The nurse gave me a spank on the flank and told me not to go running around live reactors any time soon. I told her I’d do my best. I met up with Nightshade, and we set out to find the Bandit.

While we were being interrogated, the militia towed the Bandit into the docks for repair. We found it in one of the bargain docks, a cheap, run-down business that looked more like a junkyard than an actual repair shop. When I identified myself as the Bandit’s owner, the buck in charge practically glowed—I figure he thought I’d be a repeat customer. He handed me the estimate for the repair, and I promptly excused myself. I won’t tell you how many zeroes were on that bill. After seeing the repair bill, I figured I was done. My career as a pilot was over. And then that bastard offered to help me.

   I don’t know how he pulled it out of his ass. Nightshade made a few calls, and then told me he could have the Bandit fixed in two weeks if I agreed to do him another big favor. I gave him a black eye and stormed out. He took that as a yes.

   I spent the next two weeks avoiding Nightshade until the bill was paid. I wasn’t terribly successful. He caught up with me and paid me for my trouble—a whole six thousand bits—and then left me again just as quickly. I spent the time bouncing between Tuck’n’Rolls, and having meals at Donut Joe’s. Joe, as I had started to call the barpony, was happy to see me at least. I decided to make myself useful and helped him out with a few things, same with Fritter. They’re good folks, they deserve it. Granted, the work they offered me wasn’t glorious, but it kept my mind off things. It also saved my ass.

   Late one afternoon, I was approached by a buck from Fritter’s information network. He told me I had lost something, and gave me a tablet with a message from Fritter. It read:

Horizon,

First off, I’m sorry. I started looking into your background after we first met. I wanted to know why you left the PC. Now I know. I met somepony today, and I hope you’re willing to pay me a huge favor for this because this is really important.

I know everything.

I know about Junkyard, I know about the murder, and I’m very sure you didn’t do it. So what I’m going to tell you next, I 		want you to take in the most urgent sense.

   The PBJ has sent a headhunter to find you.

   She’s on the station.

   Run.