The sounds of shuffling feet on the deck plating outside woke me. Ugh, where was I? My head was a pounding mass of pain and questionable life choices. The night before was a bit of a blur. It was slowly coming back to me, the longer I was conscious. Then again? So was last night’s dinner. It was definitely time to get up.
Laying against the commode was the morning relief my headache had apparently needed. That and the Rhoxophen from the Medpen I took. It seemed to help with the “pounding mass of pain” part of my regrets and unfortunate decisions. I looked out over Crusader LaGrange Point Station 1 from the sole window my room afforded me. I was lucky to get that. Most just got a room. This one had cost extra.
The shuffling of feet had slowed. Everyone had reached their work stations for the day. My job? Oh, my job isn’t here. My job was waiting for me in the hangar, currently on pause. Stopping over in Stanton hadn’t been the plan. However, thanks to the quirks of Drake Interplanetary, here I am. My Corsair needed a replacement power plant. The SRV to tow us here had been costly. Very much so, matter of fact. 591,000 United Earth Credits. The Corsair is a fairly sizable ship and we’d been quite a distance. Not to mention, our contact was with the Nine Lines. They tend to charge more if you don’t want trouble.
A local thief, known as Rothschild, took the opportunity. He made off with our Caterpillar while we were disabled. Took advantage of the emergency, he did. He absconded with our Caterpillar, our pride, and about fifty cases of our finest distilled alcohol. He, surely, hadn’t realized what was aboard. If he had, he should have known I’d come for him. It was worth a small fortune. Especially to folks in my line of work. Extreme Acquisitions. Repurposing the belongings of those around me.
Yeah, that’s right; I’m a pirate, too. Though Rothschild was known here, I was not. The Stanton system had been blessed to rarely see our emblem before these past few months. We avoid this place. Most of us are none too fond of the politics in this sector of space. The stench of UEE hogwash is too much to bear. Many of us fought their wars, we don’t cherish the opportunity to come back here. Nor do we like Terra, for the same reasons. We make our home in Nyx. In the furthest reaches of the system, near the asteroid belts.
Who am I? Among the Organization I lead, I’m merely known as The GrimmGod. Though, I have a name. I am Alexis Reznik. Callsign Grimm. My dad had that callsign before me. He also led the Organization to which I belong, a few years before I did. The Grimlin Space Corps. A ragtag collection of the UEE’s finest dischargees, former political prisoners, and general roustabouts.
The Grimlins were a Squadron from one of the wars my Grandfather fought in. He formed this company after being summarily discharged and charged with treason. Why, you ask? None of us know. Not a single one. It’s so hush-hush, even my dad wouldn’t talk about it. When I became leader of the Corps, after my Dad’s mysterious disappearance, I went looking for information on him. I found little of nothing.
The rumor in the family is that he attempted to assassinate a political figure of the time. No one knows who. We have our guesses, but we can’t even confirm if that’s what happened. Let alone if he actually did it. It is one of the greatest mysteries of the Corps. What did Leeland Reznik actually do?
Unlike my Grandfather, I actually did what I’m accused of. I’ll proudly admit it to anyone who wants to die enough to ask. My superior officer wanted favors I didn’t want to give. As a result, I wanted him dead. Guess which thing actually happened? Yeah. You get the idea.
Two weeks. That’s all I spent in Klescher before some of my father’s associates busted me out. Long trek, too. I didn’t know I was small enough to fit through some of those crevices. Slippery rock surfaces, dark caves, and bodies. Lots of bodies. Some of them, I put there. Stepping onto the surface of Aberdeen next to Rhys was a relief. Surreal, if I’m being honest. First thing I did was get a Torpedo Burrito. Even if it was a far cry from the causeways of a Hammerhead, it was still freedom. I’d worry about the consequences of my gastric adventures later.
Rhys was both my Second-In-Command and the Engineer aboard my ship. She’s called The Sanguine Tempest. However, we just call her The Tempest most of the time. It’s shorter, and most of us aren’t the most patient of people. Always in a hurry to the next score. I remember when I first told Rhys the name, he’d said, “’Bloody Storm’? Really? Pretentious, much?”
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