Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 3 - Page 26

Cantilever Jones Lands Hard So I decided trying couldn't hurt. "I didn't do this," I said. He looked at me not with contempt or rage but with a kind of bemusement. This was both terrifying and a confirmation of my initial intuition. I was hosed. "Whoever did this, I had nothing to do with. I am a freighter captain..." "Not anymore," he said, with a voice like ash blowing in the wind. "Not at present, but that brings me to my point. I have no motive to blow up my ship..." "I don't think you did. But we found residue of disinfectant and Calisol everywhere." "And...?" "So you did have those things on board." "I did." "They weren't on your manifest." "And since they weren't part of the charter here, they didn't have to be. The disinfectant, and Calisol, and a bunch of other medical supplies were for a private charter, to be delivered to some spice miners on Rakkis after I finished here." "Any records of this charter?" "The Transport Guild Bank. Which you can access via my ship's registry number." "What about the Calisol?" "What about it?" "Transporting Calisol requires special permits. You have none." "Transporting Calisol requires special permits for commercial licenses dated after 14 Stygius 499.062. I'm grandfathered in. I can transport it under a regular charter so long as the charter records it. You'll find that it does." He leaned over and smiled and I very nearly wet myself. "You're full of answers, aren't you?" He said softly. "Right answers do not satisfy wrong questions," I said. "Ah," he said, "an educated man." And then he hit me across the face with what felt like an brick but was probably just the back of his hand. I landed hard on my side spitting blood and he stalked around me like a beast in a cage.