Date Point: 1y 4m 3w BV
Dear Journal,
I’d make a great mob goon.
Oh, and on a side note, dough-spheres don’t have an expiration date,
Which makes me really wonder what they’re made of,
Although I’m kind of scared to ask.
“So are we there yet?”
I was starting to develop a twitch in my right eyelid, not to mention the headache that was becoming common fare during this ungodly long trip. Why did Eallva’s planet have to be so far away from anything?
“No,” I growled through the manic grin plastered on my face, “We’re not. If you took the two seconds necessary to look out the window you could see quite clearly that we are most definitely not ‘there yet,’”
Eallva gave me a questioning glance, “Headache already?”
“Yes,” I sighed, releasing some of the tension in my shoulders, “Sorry for snapping, but you can answer these questions on your own. I gave you permission to use the astrometrics up here.”
“It’s a lot faster if I just ask.”
“Then maybe I should stop answering so you’ll stop pestering me with the same question every day.”
She deigned not to reply, and I didn’t feel like pursuing the matter. Though she had no reason, Eallva remained in the cockpit, hopping awkwardly from foot to foot. Deciding to break the stony silence I broached another subject.
“You don’t have anything left to do? No exercises, or . . . um, exercises?”
Now it was her turn to be exasperated, “Of course not, that’s all there is to do on this blasted ship. Exercises, which you constantly tell me will be important despite the fact that you also said loss of fitness would only occur in lower gravity, and as you also quite clearly outlined last time, certain areas of the ship have galactic standard and the rest have normal.”
“Well we still have approximately three days left before the nearest jump point, so there’s got to be something else to do here.”
“Not unless you have any ideas.’
If I’d had any I would have told her, but aside from my current activity, which was pushing buttons with different tones to make approximations of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, I was as bored as she. I’d considered taking out the old twin-blade for a spin, but even though the rooms in this ship were more spacious than those of its predecessor, I didn’t trust myself to swinging a fusion blade in any enclosed space whose structural integrity I valued.
Another factor detracting from that course of action was the twin-blade itself. Last few times I’d taken it out to look at it, something about it had seemed . . . off. I remember liking the mirror shine of its surface, but now all I could think of while holding it was what I’d done with it. Spending hours mindlessly pushing buttons was better than being left alone with my thoughts. Recently I’d stopped wearing the twin-blade at all, instead keeping it sealed away in a compartment in my room. I still kept the original two fusion blades on me at all times, though. Never hurts to be prepared.
Normally I’d have thought Eallva’s relative inexperience with space would have offered a multitude of conversation topics, but the reality was it was extremely difficult to explain what half the stuff out here was without the actual object to demonstrate. I’d managed for a few small things with the help of the nanofactory, but by and large it was almost impossible to get an accurate representation of a troopship without at least a picture.
Thinking of the nanofactory sparked a thought, which quickly formed into an idea. I smiled.
“Actually, I do have something. Follow me.”
Making our way to the nanofactory was not as easy as one would believe. The cockpit was at the front while the factory in the back. Normally this wouldn’t have presented a problem but for my idiot decision that we should get accustomed to shifts in gravity. For what it was worth I deeply regretted that decision, but to go back on it now would be admitting I was wrong, and I obviously couldn’t do that.
The result was that traversing the length of the ship was a stumbling, dangerous affair. One moment Eallva and I would be walking normally, the next we’d hit a room boundary and Eallva would rocket off the floor, bound for the ceiling and beyond, while I accidentally kneed myself in the chin with a leg that, by comparison, now felt weightless.
The second act consisted of the leg – which should have been firmly planted on the ground by now – remaining in my face, causing me to fall forward just in time to avoid the alien-kangaroo-rat descending from on high in a disheveled mass of fur, legs, and tail. The grand finale culminated in an overpowered push-up when my attempt to break my fall with my arms backfired, and Eallva bouncing off the ground, once more on her way to the ceiling. Only once our flailings stopped due to the complete cessation of movement were we able to cross the room in a half-crawling, half-rolling manner.
“One day,” I began as I always did after just such an escapade, “One day we’ll be used to that.”
“Whether or not,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “That day comes before I gain enough control to start aiming for you when I jump too hard remains to be seen.”
I adopted a hurt expression, “Eallva, you wound me!”
“Not yet I don’t, I completely missed you this time. You always drop out at the last second.”
Dang, if I didn’t know her better I’d almost think she was serious. And I met her, like, a month ago, so yeah I didn’t know her at all. I’d have to start protecting my nether regions every time I fell, which I suppose in the long run might make recoveries faster.
The last few rooms were easier, as we were prepared for the shift in gravity. It didn’t mean we were able to cross them without the crawl-roll, but at least we were able to skip the part where we both do our best impression of a blue-giraffe in full sprint. Reaching the nanofactory I began typing away at buttons whose functions I had only just learned. I’d never used AutoCAD before, but it’d have probably been much harder than this. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but aliens know how to make a GUI so user friendly it could almost replace real relationships. No Journal I’m not trying to completely remove you. Eallva’s just an acquaintance, promise.
Despite its fool-proof design, it still took me the better part of an hour to develop a chess set, and the end result was an ugly, boxy affair. The king just looked like a tall rook, and the bishops were exact duplicates of the queen except for a couple of centimeters off their height. Still, they were good enough for my purposes.
“Up for a strategy game?”
“You? Strategy?”
Okay, now I kind of was hurt. She was right but it still stung, “And why is that so hard to believe? I could be a brilliant strategy mastermind for all you know.”
She made her species equivalent of a disbelieving huff, which was basically the same as mine if my voice was several octaves higher and then produced through a scarf. “You asked a completely random guard to help you plan a coup because you didn’t know the governmental climate of a society whose principal administrative building you literally lived in. Not to mention that I think the only reason you asked me in particular is because you ‘had a good feeling’ about me.”
“I mean, when you put it that way. . .”
“So you can see why I’m a little surprised that you would suggest a strategy based game, but I’m bored enough to try it.”
“I’m honored you’re willing to lower yourself enough to my simplistic plane of understanding in order to play this game with me.” She nodded in an appropriately condescending manner while I set up the board. Explaining the rules of chess is always easy. Simple movements, simple premise. Past that point is where I start to fall off.
It hurt to admit it, but she was right; chess is not my kind of game. I’ve heard there’s a whole meta to it, famous maneuvers by famous players – yeah, I know none of that. My chess game starts and ends with me making it up as I go – if I’m feeling especially crafty I might plan one move in advance. I figured that since this was her first time seeing it I could probably cheese out a few wins before she wised up to the simple traps I had in my repertoire. And since I’m being completely honest, a part of me may have been hoping she would rage quit after those first few wins.
She, in fact, did not quit after I won the first three games, and to make matters worse the third game was a near thing. I’d even managed to come up with a new trap or two.
“Again,” she said after I finally put her king in checkmate.
I started to sweat, “You sure? It’s getting kind of late I might turn in.”
She looked up, confused, “Turn in? There’s easily half a day left.”
“How about a break then?” I asked desperately,
“And do what, eat dough-spheres?”
Ew, no. “. . . fine.”
Sometime in the middle of the fourth game I realized that – much like the gravity situation – I would ultimately come to regret the decision to play chess. I should have taught her checkers; I’m more of a checkers guy.
Showing a capacity for offensive strategy – or really any strategy – far greater than any blue-giraffe I had ever met – which I suppose wasn’t too many – she beat me in the fourth game. It was close, but she still won. The fifth game was not quite as close, and the sixth I could only wish it had been.
By the end of the seventh she had an infuriatingly smug caste to her features and movements. I on the other hand was scowling. No I was not pouting.
“I like this game,” she squeaked, still grinning.
I mumbled something even I didn’t quite hear, but if I had I’m sure it would have been a stinging, witty retort. Hours had passed since the first game, and it was finally late enough for me to beg off playing another in the interest of sleep. That bought me ten hours of respite before she returned to the offensive. I hadn’t even finished my scrumptious breakfast of ever-edible dough-spheres before she placed that accursed checkered board in front of me, taking the seat opposite.
She just sat, watching me eat, the tension slowly rising as I felt the inevitable question charging behind her impassive eyes. I was down to my last dough-sphere when I started to sweat. I had to come up with something, some excuse for why I couldn’t play, anything that would prolong my inevitable demise.
Alternative occupying actions, unfortunately, did not readily come to mind, but I had time. One dough-sphere can last a while if you need it to. Minutes passed, my bites steadily decreasing in size, and her expression changed. First to one of boredom, then annoyance, then indignant frustration. I was down to a quarter of a dough-sphere and bites the size of mini-M&M’s when she caved and spoke over the sounds of my chewing.
“Okay now you’re just stalling,” she accused, “I could eat faster than that with my mouth sewn shut.”
An idea formed, or rather a hope of one. It was low, very low, but I had to try it, there were no other choices. Eallva, I’m sorry.
“What, I’m eating as fast as I can. I’m just getting full, that’s all.”
“If you’re full you can leave it till later the. We’ve proven on multiple occasions that those abominations keep under any and all circumstances.”
I made a face, “And just leave it sitting, half eaten, on the table? What kind of uncivilized creature are you?”
It was obvious she was somewhat taken aback by my aggressive response, but with a half-shrug ignored it. No good, I needed to provoke her.
“I was just saying if you were full then maybe you should try doing something while you eat. Take your mind off your obviously delicate appetite.”
Not much there, but I could work with it.
“Oh so you’re calling me fragile now? Is that it?” an edge of defensiveness crept into her tone. Promising; a little further and I could pull the switch.
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Oh come off it, you’ve always thought that,” it was hard delivering that line with a straight face, but desperate actions for desperate times.
“Where are you getting this,” the defensiveness was plain now, “what are you saying?” She was starting to get louder. One more should do it.
“I don’t think I should answer any of your questions if you aren’t willing to be honest with me,” I almost gagged on that one. Thank goodness it worked.
“Not willing to be honest with you? Since when I have I not been honest with you? Honest about what?” She was loud enough, time to spring the trap.
“There’s no need to get angry.” The key now was to make my tone one of detached superiority, and I have to admit I pulled it off beautifully. She hadn’t been angry before, but a spark of it lit behind her eyes at my words.
“I’m not angry, I’m asking you what you meant when you said I wasn’t being honest with you?” She hadn’t lowered her voice by the end of it, sealing her fate.
Maintaining my cool tone I glanced down at what remained of the dough-sphere, “If you’re not angry why are you yelling then?” She might not have known what it meant but I made sure to throw in an eyebrow quirk at the end for style points.
“I’m not yell – ”
All I had to do was look up with a pointed glance. She stopped mid-sentence, noticing that she had just started yelling. Visibly calming herself she continued in a tightly controlled voice. Tight control was easy enough to break.
“I was merely asking –”
Uh oh, she’s was taking the “merely” route. I had to end it quick with a petty side comment.
“Asking rather forcefully.” I muttered, quiet enough to be able to pass it off as to myself but easily loud enough for her to hear, especially since she could hear better than me. Her control vanished and all calm disintegrated as she began shouting in earnest.
“I was not angry!”
“Obviously.”
“Well I’m angry now because you –” whoa there, that sounded like a blame shift. Couldn’ t have that.
I quickly interrupted, “I think we should wait to talk until you’ve calmed down a bit. Honestly I don’t know why you’ve been so angry lately, unless . . .” I trailed off pensively, looking down at the chess board.
“What . . .” she followed my glance, “Wait, what are you doing?” Shit, she was catching on. Too late though, I had the justification I needed.
“I mean, you were never this angry before we started playing that game, and I can’t think of anything else that has changed since then. It would seem like the only logical explanation to assume – ”
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” All the anger had turned to disbelieving exasperation. The game was up but I had won. Time to claim my prize.
“– that it,” I nodded towards the board, “Is to blame. I think it only right that we take a break from it for a while. Just to see if you calm down. And if you won’t do it voluntarily then I’ll just have to do it for you. I’m sorry Eallva, but I can’t play with you. This is for your own good.” I wasn’t fooling anyone at this point so I saw no harm in letting my serious demeanor slip in favor of a grin.
Her only response was a glare.
Date point: 1y 4m 2w 3d BV
Trasna Trading Depot
The planet below disappeared without a sound, instantly replaced by the emptiness of space perhaps a half-hour from Vakno’s coordinates.
“Wait,” Eallva squeaked from behind me, “What just happened?”
“Jump drive,” I muttered distastefully, “Even more of a disappointment than FTL. I mean, I get it, reality is a lot more boring than sci-fi, but honestly, if you’re able to create something that literally teleports you from one location to the next, would it really be so hard to throw in some light effects between trips? I’m not asking for the Cirque de Soleil, but a couple flashes or something would be nice.”
“I don’t have enough experience to really agree or disagree,” Eallva began, “But can we go back to the part where you said ‘Circus of the Sun’?”
“If we’re ever around Earth I’ll try to take you, I’ve never been to one of their performances either.”
I could tell she wasn’t entirely satisfied with my answer, but if I could keep her off balance it would be easier to convince her to stay on the ship while I ran errands for Vakno. I’d been trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for the better part of a day now, but everything I’d thought up so far wouldn’t have even convinced me.
Maybe I could just make something up and use space magic for the justification. Yeah, that wouldn’t bite me in the ass some time later. Whatever reason I used it would need to be at least plausible. She didn’t have a translator, I could work with that. She didn’t have anything in the way of cybernetics, come to think of it. I’d have to – oh shit.
“Uh, Eallva, I may have forgotten to mention something.”
She waited curiously for me to continue.
“So remember life or death lesson number 2?”
“Everyone out here comes in all shapes and sized,” she quoted, “But one thing they have in common is they’re all really good at dying. Given the slightest provocation they will die horrible, explosive deaths, so be gentle in every interaction with them.”
“Okay, wow, that was a lot closer to verbatim than I anticipated, but yeah, they’re expert die-ers – not dyers, like people who dye stuff, but you get what I’m saying. Something I should have added to that but completely forgot was that they’re so good at the whole death thing that being in general proximity to you will eventually kill them. I know for a fact you don’t know what microbes are, and I’m not going to try to explain, but the gist of it is that until you get this special little device put inside you then you’re going to have to stay on the ship so you don’t start multiple extinction level plagues.”
She gave me a look I was becoming all too familiar with. It was a mixture of curiosity, confusion, exasperation, and tired acceptance. “Alright,” she began, “Back to the important parts. First of all, how under the gods did you manage to forget something as large as this until now, and could you expound a little on this device that I need to get, particularly the part where it needs to be put inside me.”
“Okay, I’ve been out of the loop for a while, you know, and once you get this thing the plague problem disappears entirely, so is it really all the surprising that I forgot about it? We’re lucky I remembered at all. As for this device, it’s not very large. A moment of pain and you’ll never think of it again.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Wasn’t this station we’re headed to supposed to be some major trade stop? Can’t we get one of these anti-plague devices there?”
I shook my head, “Doubtful, but even if we could, I wouldn’t want you walking around in a station when the whole reason we’re there is to reactivate an informant for Vakno. Walking around in the open out there is tantamount to showing up at her front door as far as declaring your species existence is concerned. There’s a guy I know who can hook you up, and he’s got all the stuff we need to make this ship clean again.”
“And he’s different from Vakno because . . .?”
“He’s actually worse in a lot of way,” I admitted, “ But he won’t know where your home planet is, so the damage he can do is limited.”
She hopped her understanding, “So who’s this guy you know.”
“The less I say the better.”
Eallva
The ‘trade station’ was incredible. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. If she’d taken the time to develop her mind’s vague preconceptions she supposed she would have envisioned something similar to the moon base from before – a station situated on some planet-like body. As Selvim dropped them out of FTL, she once again found another incredible site.
The station hung, completely unsupported, in the darkness. A distance away a sun burned with a hellish glow, its deep red light foreboding. Architecturally, the trade station was fascinating, although she hadn’t really seen much of night-structures, so she for all she knew this structure looked like every other. A sprawling network of differently sized protrusions and compartments covered the station in an array of uneven lumps, destroying any symmetry it might have had. She felt, rather than knew, that the station had once been much smaller – and even – but as traffic had grown the station had expanded with it, resulting in the mess she saw now.
What it lacked in aesthetics, it overcompensated in sheer population. Ships of all different makes and models buzzed furiously about the exterior of the station, loading and unloading into different compartments. It was a city, though larger and busier than any she’d ever seen. There was also the fact that it was floating in the darkness of night, but she could only focus on so many incredible sights at once. She was surprised by the amount of time it took for their ship to reach the outermost edge of the city. It was even larger than she had originally assumed, its size skewing her perception of its distance.
Their ship seamlessly joined the flow of vessels around the station, narrowly avoiding collisions with terrifying frequency. She was distracted enough that it took her several moments to see Selvim was interestedly staring outside just like her, hands completely removed from the controls.
“Wait, you’re not driving?”
He gave her a glance, “Nope, I cleared our docking path a few hundred kilometers back, everything’s automatic from here,” he looked again outside, “I would not want to manually drive in this.”
Following his eyes she had to agree. Lines of traffic crossed and double-crossed her line of sight, presenting her with a dizzying pandemonium of motion that had her quickly looking somewhere else. More as a distraction than out of curiosity, she asked the first question that came to mind.
“How much longer until we’re there?”
He slumped, fatigue clouding his face at the rewording of a question she realized had become the bane of his existence during their trip, “Just a few more minutes now. I know we just went over it, but just to be absolutely sure, what are you not going to do.”
“Get off the ship or let anyone in.”
He nodded, “Or open any exterior doors, for that matter. Just sit tight and I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
I was a little disappointed that the berth we were directed to wasn’t a true docking bay. Instead it was just a long protrusion that secured to the ship’s airlock. I supposed having bays for every ship at this station would have taken up way too much space, but I was working for Vakno here, and if Eallva was right then she wanted me to be conspicuous. The least she could have done was thrown a little comfort in our docking arrangements.
Leaving Eallva in the cockpit I walked to the airlock, opened the doors, and stepped into the quarantine field I’d requested during by docking request. I had to hand it to the station management, it had been one of the simplest and fastest docking requests I’d ever done. It had been so streamlined I hadn’t even needed to talk to someone, and they’d had a whole “require detox at port” option and everything. Four beings stood on the other side of the field, two blue-giraffes and two trolls. I mean, that’s what they looked like to me, aside from having four arms. It honestly wouldn’t have surprised me if they had started requiring me to pay some kind of toll to cross their docking arm and enter the station.
Despite my partial expectations, no troll tolls were dispensed. One of the blue-giraffes hit a button and motioned me to step forward. I didn’t see or feel any different, but the tech nodded in satisfaction, “Detox comple–” he broke off as he looked at me, taking a step back in concern bordering on fear.
I realized I’d been smiling while looking at him. It was just, it was the first blue-giraffe I’d seen in a long while and I don’t know why but I was just so fucking happy. It felt like I was coming home, even though I hadn’t even known this guy long enough to give him a condescending and somewhat demeaning name.
I wouldn’t have reigned in my grinning had the two four-armed trolls not leveled heavy pulses at me. I almost didn’t let them stop me either, but the thought of getting into a fight with the authorities before I was even technically in the station wasn’t a good start to what was looking to be a very enjoyable assignment.
“Whoa there boys, no need for that. I wasn’t threatening, just being friendly.”
“Didn’t look like it,” Troll-left growled. Look, I’m all for naming blue-giraffes, but all the trolls look alike to me. Call me space racist but I can’t make lame and unoriginal names without at least some differentiating features between individuals. At the moment the only difference I could see between the troll brothers (or sisters for all I knew) was their position relative to mine, so that’s what I used.
“Well I can’t help it if there’s something wrong with your eyes,” I replied in what I hoped translated as a jovial tone, “We done here? I dropped by for more than just your lovely company.”
Troll-left didn’t lower his/her weapon. Troll-right opened her/his mouth, “Are you a human? Like the one from those newsreels.”
I paused a moment, “Let’s start off with you telling me what’ll happen if the answer to that question is yes.”
“Not much, just asking.”
Well, the least they could do was shoot me, “Then yes.”
Troll-right shared a look with troll-left, then turned to leave, the blue-giraffes following quickly on their heels. I brought up the rear, keeping my distance to avoid spooking anyone, and entered the station proper. A data pad from the ship had directions to get to my mark’s rooms. I didn’t know the prudence in thinking of him as my “mark”, but thoughts are similar to words in that you can’t take ‘em back.
I set off at a trot, the lower gravity nearly demanding that I do something with the extra spring each step provided. And it was uniform. Wonderfully, blessedly uniform! Oh man it felt good, being able to walk and walk and just keep walking, no sudden leg lifts or face plants. Is this how everyone else felt all the time? Damn, constant gravity is one hell of a drug.
I was so engrossed in the shear marvel of it that I only noticed the slight disturbances I was causing after I was halfway to my destination. Looking about, it was plain that I was having some effect on those nearby. A good portion I saw paid no attention to me, but a recognizable amount glanced at me and gave me a wider berth than was strictly necessary. Some few saw me and abruptly changed directions, and unless I was being abnormally egotistical I had a feeling several nearby conversation concerned me.
I set off again, now keenly aware of my surroundings. Thankfully my impact didn’t seem to be increasing, but it was still present.
If you wanted me to be noticed, Vakno, you got your wish
Aside from those and similar small disturbances I arrived at my destination without causing any riots. The crowds had considerably thinned by the time I reached it, it being a nondescript door blocking my entrance to what I could only assume were my mark’s residences, seeing as it was smack dab in the middle of a habitation district. Habitation compartment if I were completely honest but compartment made it sound so much smaller than it really was that district fit better in my mind. Habitation area? Beings lived here. Hitting the doorbell I waited what felt the appropriate amount of time necessary to determine he either wasn’t home or wasn’t answering, and an attempt to open it established it was locked.
I had started to consider breaking down the door when it opened to my surprise. Mine was nothing compared to his, though. This guy’s reaction was by far the most violent I’d seen from anyone today. Upon glancing out to see me he flew into the air with a shriek. I mean literally flew, this guy looked like Batman’s worst nightmare.
Okay, maybe not flew, but he used his sudden vertical displacement to glide several meters away from me on skin flaps that spanned the space between his forelimbs and core. I’d never been partial to bats myself, so seeing this guy who could have easily fulfilled the position of “Bat Overlord” in an RPG didn’t exactly fill me with warm butterflies of delight. I’d forgotten these fuckers were out here, being gone for so long and all. I’d never really been this close to one either. Never known they could do that whole gliding thing.
His reaction didn’t dim upon his landing. If anything the pandemonium he caused only increased as he began flailing about his apartment, somehow knocking over anything remotely capable of being knocked over as he struggled to escape. Where he was trying to escape to I wasn’t entirely sure, I was blocking the only exit, but he was moving nonetheless.
Getting over my own mixed feelings about the guy I walked in, closing and locking the door behind me. It wouldn’t keep him in but it’d keep visitors out. At the rate he was moving he could have easily outpaced the placid walk I set; that is, if he hadn’t seemed determined to place every possible obstacle available squarely in his way. By the time I reached him he had buried himself in a pile of furniture and other objects from around the room. I was honestly impressed by the sheer amount of chaos he had managed to sew in such a shot amount of time – I doubted I could have done much better without throwing a table or two.
Picking my way through the wreckage I opened my mouth to speak, but he started before I’d even gotten out the first word.
“What are you?” he stammered breathlessly.
I started to reply, but again was interrupted before I began.
“I know you’re a human,” he continued, “but what are you specifically? Are you a mercenary, a thug, a loner out for money? Don’t try and tell me you’re here for anything peaceful, your kind don’t work that way.”
Okay, that just wasn’t quite fair, and I was about to tell him so but couldn’t get a word in sideways.
“No, you can’t be here for money, there are far richer in this very station, the only reason you’d come to me specifically instead of the yard is because –” his eyes widened, “Who do you work for? What do they want so bad that they’d track down a human to –” he paused for so long that I began preparing my entrance into the conversation.
I didn’t get past the initial breath before he gave a cynical huff, “I guess there’s only one who’d have the means and overdeveloped sense of vengeance to go through so much trouble for me. How’s the old bitch doing?”
The translator didn’t exactly give bitch but I felt it’s approximation of “[Derogatory term]” could be shortened as such.
“The Contact was all sore about losing me so she sent the ultimate definition of overkill to make an example out of me? Well, do your worst, I’m not running from you. Would be pointless anyway.”
Oh man where to start. I still had to set him right on how just because I’m not the perfect example of pacifism doesn’t mean all of humanity is as screwed up as me, then I needed to point out how the only reason he wasn’t currently running was because his previous attempt had made it presently impossible to do so, and finally I would get to the part about how I wasn’t sent here to kill him. I had another whole run on sentence ready and prepped to explain everything to him in one go before he again stammered into speech.
“Wait wait wait, I’ve changed my mind,” his eyes bulged and had they been free I assume his arms would have been waving franticly, “I don’t want to die. Please, I’ll go back. I’ll send a message to the Contact right away, I’ll do anything! That’ll appease her, right? She wouldn’t want you to kill one of her informers, would she?”
I thought a moment. Had I just finished the job? Vakno’d said she wanted this guy back in her employ. From the sounds of it he was. Could it really be this easy? Apparently he took my moment of silence to indicate displeasure regarding his terms. Another fount of babbled speech erupted from him before I could stop it.
“You can have anything from the yard!” the poor guy sounded nearly in tears, “Anything you want! An inventory should be on a table over there,” he shifted slightly to his right. I looked and saw a data pad next to an overturned end table. Picking it up a ship manifest appeared before me and a quick scroll showed them to be freighters of varying sizes.
Was it okay to take him up on his offer? I mean, he was the one who had suggested it. And Vakno had said I wasn’t getting a bonus for this one. I’d planned on tracking down my favorite blue-giraffes and apologizing. They had every right to be angry with me, but maybe they’d be a little more forgiving if I had a gift as well as an apology. As long as this guy cleared whatever I picked so it wasn’t stolen, I didn’t see the harm.
Really? No harm? You see absolutely no harm at all? Not one bit? Not even a smidge? Nothing?
Okay, yes Voice-in-my-head, I saw it, it was pretty fucking hard to miss, but I had a big reason to ignore it.
So you’re going to preface your “turned-a-new-leaf” apology to the blue-giraffes with a cargo ship you bullied from a contact of perhaps the most infamous information broker in the galaxy? Smooth.
I gave the voice a glare, insomuch as one can glare at something inside their own head.
When you put it that way I sound insincere, but considering that leaf is turning from “Murderous-faux-demi-god-responsible-for-keeping-an-oppressive-regime-in-power” to “Hired thug” I feel that’s quite a step in the right direction. I never said I was going to be a saint, just a less-evil demon. Wait, that didn’t come out right.
Regardless of how you meant it to sound I think it came out pretty spot on.
. . . Thanks?
Don’t mention it.
So I’m in the clear for doing this, because model 73-6298-5 looks tempting.
I’m honestly surprised you didn’t just pick the biggest there was to offer.
I mean, I’m trying to show a little restraint. And anything larger would have required me to wait around while they built it, everything above 73-6298-5 is special order.
How noble of you
Are we clear?
I can already tell you’re going to ignore me whatever my answer is.
I can never fool you can I.
Unfortunately.
I realized I’d been silent for more than half a second. Much longer and Mark would probably offer me his family and unborn child. Hurrying to avoid that I picked my way towards him and shoved the Manifest before his eyes. He sighed at the displayed model, “I suppose so much is obvious. I’ll need my arm to validate the purchase.” Shifting some debris I freed one of his forelimbs. Several minutes passed before he spoke again. “It’s yours, registered under whoever has the code I just sent to your pad.” He nodded towards the one I’d used as a map, “Contact control and it’s yours. Is that enough? You’ll leave? The Contact and I are good?”
I almost said yes, but it just didn’t feel right. I hadn’t yet said a thing, and here I was on the homestretch and suddenly I was going to break that streak? I intended to leave with style points fully intact, so I exited into the corridor without speaking. He’d get the picture.
It was hard not to skip on my way back to the shuttle. I couldn’t remember the last time something had gone over so well. Honestly the last thing I remember working out so completely had been when I’d discovered purple xeno pig-rats were basically living lunchables only a plasma conduit away from a bacon breakfast.
My quarantine guards weren’t there for my departure, but I guess the boxes I’d checked on the way in had specified exactly how strict that quarantine needed to be. The atmosphere in the airlock’ll be dumped the moment we depart, it should be fine.
Boarding the ship Eallva greeted me at the door to the airlock. “Oh,” she squeaked, “So you didn’t die of natural causes. I was worried about you. So how’d the shakedown go?”
I was about to correct her but decided she was close enough to let it slide, “Honestly better than I could have hoped. Good enough to where I’m almost feeling up to playing a game or two of chess, right after we pick up the newest addition to our fleet.” She leveled a questioning glance in response to that last part, so I explained.
“Wow,” she breathed when I finished, “I was only joking but it really was a shakedown. First you ‘persuaded’ him then stole his ship. Classy.”
“Okay he offered it.”
“I’m sure he did,” She scoffed. She didn’t seem overly upset though, and let the matter drop in favor of another. “So you’re eager to ‘get rekt’ in another few games? Not worried it’ll set off my violent impulses?”
I ignored the latter to focus on the former, “Wait, how do you know what ‘get rekt’ is or even means?”
“It’s what you yelled after each of the three games you won.”
Oh.
Serves you right.
Shut up.
“So where we headed now?” She asked as she moved off to fetch that torture device of a game, “Or do you need to confer with your mob boss to find out?”
“Vakno’s not a mob boss, she’s an information broker.”
Eallva rolled her eyes and waited for me to continue.
I sighed before relenting, “She’ll find out soon enough that I finished the job. Until she contacts me again we go where we please. I was planning on heading for that guy I know to set you up as something other than a walking plague ship.”
Her eyes widened to match her sudden smile, “Oh! Yes please! How long ‘til we’re there.”
“Not a clue, but we’re done playing when I say so, not when we get there, however long that is.”
“Four games minimum.”
“One.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“Three and I won’t ask you if we’re there yet for the entire trip.”
“Deal.”