Case 1: The Subtle Things Part:1 Today at 04:06 pm There are exactly two man-made things in the Universe more dependable than an Arclight energy pistol: the Mustang Beta and Terran Bourbon. Ironically, they're also the only two things in the Universe with less fire power. I don't know what prompted a playboy like Koerner to drop everything and start building spaceships, but if there was ever something good-ol' Silas got right on the first try, it was that. The thing's are cheap as an Aurora, good at snooping out trouble, even better at dodging it, and perfect for holing up in when you're this close to losing the shirt off your back. Best of all, because our billionair-failed-vigilante-turned-entreproneur was so damned successful, there are almost as many Mustangs of some variation or another floating around space as there are personalities. They're so common, in fact, that hardly anyone will even glance at them; Which makes them perfect for professional snoops. This is why there will always be one in my hangar; and it was also why I was sitting in one, parked in orbit around Borea in the Magnus system. I was waiting for a low level Drake employee; we'll call him Chuck for giggles. The word passed to me was that he was pilfering ship parts in small quantities. One of his co-workers--the one that was set to be hooked for it if the foreman found out-- hired me to find proof. Jobs like this don't pay much on an individual basis, but they're routine, and I can bang out several in a week. Amateur thievery and cheating spouses are the real bread and butter of the detective business. The big cases are lucky breaks and don't come frequent enough to bet your retirement on. I was sitting on the bench seat in the back watching my passive sensors, with the lights out and most of the ship systems powered down. I wanted my ship to look empty on casual inspection. I had only been there three hours when a heat signature interrupted my game of solitair. From the output, it looked like a 350r. I checked its transponder broadcast. That was the ship alright. And my client was correct; that was way to pricey a ship for a low level factory worker. I waited for it to pass me before getting up from my seat. I would never catch him. I didn't really need to, anyway. All I needed was to see which jump point he was going to. I'd wait for him on the other side next time. No sense in tailing a guy with a routine. You just broadcast yourself and let him know he's being followed. No, you just follow each step of the routine on a different day. Which is exactly what I had been doing for the past two. That's why this job was routine. That's why this was going to be an easy payday.