Offered in Parting: The Manifesto of Mazzonozz Tylrannos

It was that escape from Waldheim that made me realize I needed a new arm.

An acqauintance - crewmate, friend, sometime lover - suffered an attack of the past. She had fallen into the hands of old bosses who felt they still held claim to her and to secrets resting in her head.

The crew I had at my disposal was ill suited to the ensuing adventure: children and well-meaning fools aboard a poorly-armed ship from a law-abiding end of the galaxy. The following month, I worked largely alone. It took my every wheedle and con to pick through every government database on Waldheim before I understood the story, which I will save you from the re-telling.

Of course, my actions drew unwelcome attention, and though one of the agents sent to capture me died in my kidnapping, I was captured nonetheless.

Were it not for my handicap, my deficit of five digits, I would not have had the leverage to work myself free of the hospital table they planned to use to make me a victim of the same perverted science which had claimed Jordan. One-armed and dangerous is what they should have put on my bounty posters: I killed a man and maimed one or two others getting Jordan out of the hospital. It was all the kids on the ship could do to pull she and I aboard amidst gunfire from those who would rather we stay forever. Specifically, in neat pine boxes.

My pride, as usual, cost me injury: two new scars from pulse blasts grace my lovely abdomen. But, as the saying goes, you should see the other guy. Recall the image of the pine box already evoked.

Shortly I realized that a crew with a Centuaran who loves to tell everyone everything he knows is no place for incapacitated fugitive wanted for murder. Thus I quietly accepted a self-offered severance package from the GMF Athena, resigned as its first mate, and slipped away to an old haunt where I hoped wonderfully warm and mammalian whores would help me lick clean my wounds.

My year-or-so of upstanding citizenship, like my parole for the kidnapping of a child who, ironically, I was charged with protecting while first mate aboard the Athena, was violated. The child himself, it should be noted, was not. I have many perversions, but that, thank Lin's lovely bosom, is not one of them.

I had planned on the inherently deceptive and complex nature of the New Valsho underworld to keep me anonymous: I have many friends there from my days as a common thug and prank-pulling hacker. But like me, their loyalties are always to themselves. It is entirely possible one of the people on whom I depended for shelter and medical care tipped me off. I may have even received a grace period for my recovery, just for fairness. On account of my disability, you see.

I knew already that the scarcity of one-armed Timonese criminals in the galaxy would make me an easy target, but when a woman better suited to a strip club than a bounty claim makes a move on your life, the stakes are more for your pride than your well-being. Of course I avoided capture, but that would not be the first time my distinctive appearance made me seem easy prey.

The advantage of having but one arm is that you are easily underestimated. A defenseless one, the hunters would think. With but one arm, what could he possibly do?

The reply, with pride, is: everything I could do with two, albeit with less panache. Theft, murder, and larceny were not outside of the possibilities. I could still hold a gun. I could still crack nodes on the infomatrix.

But, again, I was too easy to find.

This, gentle reader, marks the end of two eras, one considerably longer than the other. My years as a cripple, a half-man, a criminal without means is over. I have a second hand, dear children, and it is prettier than the one I lost ever was.

Second to fall is an era of timidity of action. To slip quietly under the radar, performing my magic only at great need, has been my modus operandi for quite some time. It has gotten me nothing but injury. Those daring few who somehow read this missive and, learning something of my mind, decide that the price on my head is worth chasing should heed this warning: Lin might be on your side when we meet. I might be an easy collar.

Then again, you may be humiliated and killed slowly, and in grand style.

With a new arm comes a new beginning. The old Mazzonnoz Tylrannos has disappeared. The next time his name is heard will be in talks of a new bounty or that of an obituary.

A new sort of malcontent has emerged. He's always on the move, never staying too long in one place before looking for opportunity elsewhere. He wants to make a name for himself, gentle reader, and although careful, my sweet Sisters, he will be bold.

Hunt Mazzonnoz Tylrannos, if you wish. The money is there, but the trail is cold. It stops with my handicap.

When you see me next, I will be different - new. Unexpected. I will smile and offer you my hand. Pleased to meet you, I will say, quoting an ancient master of deception and guile.

Pleased to meet you.

Can you guess my name?