Wisely, Rhys didn’t say much after that. The hail finished, as a matter of fact. Rhys must have figured out I was beginning to get pissed. As the Quantum Drive opened the tunnel, I turned to a stunned Rixton. He was just staring at me. Not with malice either, “We’re alive. Fucking stars we’re alive. You did it, Reznik.” He seemed almost starstruck.
“First firefight? Seizure? Do I need to get a medpen,” I asked sarcastically. My face took on a chiding expression. You know, the one you use on a child. I stood up from the pilot’s chair. He’d taken up station behind me, holding on for dear life. I couldn’t blame him. His hadn’t exactly been a good reaction to danger.
The old man who’d been piloting, slowly stumbled toward the chair I had occupied, his older form taking a moment to get situated. He kept stealing glances at me, an incredulous look on his face. He probably thought I was insane. I’d think so, too.
Rixton raised himself from the Co-Pilot’s station, after disarming the weapons. He looked at me again, this time with nearly the same look as the pilot. “We should be dead right now. Is this what you folks do everyday,” he asked. His voice wasn’t quite shaken, but it did sound tired.
I shrugged, “Sometimes. Sometimes, it’s even more boring. Such as being stuck on a station for three weeks.” I walked through the door to the back of the ship. I should probably check and see how mad Rixton was going to be.
When I reached the crew quarters in the rear of the ship, it didn’t really seem worse for wear. Perhaps the damage wasn’t so bad? There was no sign of anything even displaced. Then again, the atmosphere of the crew quarters was quite sterile. They didn’t likely, actually, sleep here. Most of the time, anyway.
I descended down the ladder to the lower deck, after leaving the upper decks through the door. Looking around, this area was a little more damaged. This was where the ship’s components were. There were sparks coming from the computers and the power supply. Luckily, these were easy to find parts for.
There were a few concave bits of the pressure Hull. The hit had definitely done some damage. No one had been injured, however, as far as I could tell. The beds were empty and the tables and seats were bare. We had gotten insanely lucky. I hoped the others had gotten so lucky with their escapes. Most of them had left with Jobbes, though.
The Mole was quite simple to find parts for. My poor Corsair, on the other hand, was a pain. When we arrived back at the station, I was one of the first down the elevator with Rixton. We both wanted to inspect the damage. Him for the cost, me for the thrill.
It was a thrill to see the sight that came next. I looked up at the panel I had used to destroy the last Buccaneer. The Drake’s fuselage was still sticking out of the armored panel. Wing, Engine and all. The engine was still on fire. There were people pouring into the hangar to help put it out. He looked over at me. Still no malice, just disbelief. I’d have probably at least stabbed me, by now.
He put his head in his hands when he read the repair quote. 128,000 UEC. It was pricey, but not more than I could afford. I didn’t let him pay for it. I may be a pirate, however, I do have some honor. When I paid, he looked to me, “Cap’n, I hired you and you ended up paying me. That doesn’t seem like a fair trade. We’re only alive, because of you.”
I shook my head and smiled, “Nope. Just keep me in mind if you’re ever in need of an employer. The Grimlin Space Corps pays quite well. I hear from a certain magical Kopion that they may be getting into mining soon.” I winked with a smirk spreading across my lips. The bad part is that I wasn’t kidding about mining. I was thinking of furthering our mining fleet. Today’s experience told me I’d been running commodity contracts for too long.
He nodded, “It’s gonna take a few days to get everything we mined through the refinery. When we do, I’ll send your cut. It should more than make up for what you just covered. So I’m getting the last laugh anyway.” He smirked, that mirth that I’d heard over the radio revealing itself on his face. His eyes wrinkled with the action and it almost made him look like my Dad. I liked Rixton. I could see why he and Rhys were friends.
I stuck my hand out in response, “We shall see, Rixton. Thanks for the fun. I’m gonna avoid dealing with Rhys for a while. Heading to the Bar after this.” I put my honesty into the smile on my face. I had a great time. It was not an exaggeration. An honest smile is hard to come by in this existence. I’d take one where I could get it.
Rixton put his hand firmly into mine, we shook on it, and went our separate ways. Walking toward the elevator, I had to ponder about my relationship with Dad. Had I been too harsh before he disappeared? I called him a useless wretch. I mean, he was, but should I have said it? I shook my head. Dad’s disappearance from Stanton was something of a mystery. No one knew where he went. He was much like a legend that one would tell. When I took over, I had to spend a lot of time convincing people that I had succeeded him. They believed he was still running things from the background. He was not. I made it to the elevator with that little thought in my mind.
Mason, and who I presumed to be his father, were walking toward the elevator on my way out. At this point, considering my thoughts, they were a welcome distraction. I gave my second genuine smile of the day, week, month, year? How long has it been? Best not to think about it. Mason approached me with a smile even bigger than mine, his guardian seemed less than enthused. The man looked downright grumpy. Mason was quite excited, “Cap’n! That was awesome! I hadn’t thought of using a mining laser for that, but I won’t soon forget it!”
I laughed, throwing my head back with the motion. I was trying to play it up a bit. Why not, kids need to feel the praise of the moment. “You did great, kid. Got us home alive. That’s what mattered. Proud of ya. Keep up the studies. You taught me a few things that even I didn’t know.” I turned my head to their presumed Guardian, “Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders. Keep it on there, eh? I’ll be in touch. I owe him for the lessons. We can haggle over details at a later date. Just name a price.
”The man softened, perhaps it was the praise? “Well, I suppose that will be amiable. I shall await your communications.” Or… maybe it was the credits. I nodded, though I wanted to roll my eyes. Mason was beaming. The Verse was a rough place. I hoped he kept up with the good attitude. It would serve him well in his future. A good attitude is almost as rare as an honest smile.
I smiled and offered out my fist to bump, “Alright, I’m gonna go get loosened up and powered down for the night. You two be safe and have fun.” I smiled back down at Mason, who waved. I did the same, turned on my heel, and went to go change out of the Novikov. I didn’t want to be in it longer than I had to be.
As I was walking away, I heard the man with Mason say, “Who was that, Mason? From your field trip today? What did you teach her?” Internally, I chuckled. Rixton had a student on a less than legitimate claim. A scoundrel, that one. That surprised me a bit. However, perhaps he hadn’t planned on things going sideways. Funnily enough, fate doesn’t often give a shit what your plans are. It’ll still fuck up your day. Glad I’d been there. Might have gone very different had I not been.
I headed toward the hab elevator for another night of attempting to kill my brain with boredom. That’s when I saw it. The Hab might have to wait. Or, at least, not be as long of an endeavor. There, on the pad, was another Drake Corsair. It was a different paint, and it looked quite beaten, but it was undoubtedly the same model. The folded wings sitting high above the fuselage were a dead-ringer for my ship. However, the paint was different. It looked like it was missing its vertical thrusters. Likely being fixed.
A smirk spread across my lips. Hey, I’m a pirate, damnit. Your high brow judgement means nothing to me. I will sleep just fine in my working Corsair. I headed toward the Hab elevator with new plans in mind. This might actually be a good night. I’d need my stealth armor for this one. Hopefully that ship was still there when I got cleaned up. Though, it would take hours to reinstall those, likely enough.
I reached my hab room, showered, got some clean clothes on. My “I lost my wallet at Grim Hex” t-shirt showed threadbare against the Hab light. I wasn’t wearing anything I minded getting blood on tonight. My activities might get me shot. No sense in wearing something that I cared about getting blood on. The pants were a similar choice. Just regular black leggings.
Over that, I put on my stoneskin undersuit. I checked in the mirror, making sure the helmet coif was over my hair. I’d worn my purple ‘hawk down this time. Not easy to fit liberty spikes under a helmet. I could do it in a Novikov, but I couldn’t do it in this. I didn’t want anything to expose my identity. Just rumors that the GrimmGod might be here. That’s all I wanted to leave behind, if that. I was hoping to find another solution that didn’t involve me revealing myself.
I followed that up with my Black Inquisitor Armor set, and a Morningstar Helmet. I checked the mirror one more time. Everything looked covered, and nothing identifying was on me. This was perfect. I took everything but the regular clothing off, and put it in my backpack. It was a dark red one I’d gotten in Pyro. More the color of rust, than true red, to be honest.
My last step was grabbing my trusty Coda Revolver and a few cylinders of ammo. Not that I’d need it, per se, however having it would be better than not. I ran my hand along the hilt of the weapon; it had been with me through a lot. It had been my first weapon when I got out of prison. It was still my preferred go-to. It was either that or my P6-LR. I loved them both. This op, however, wasn’t long range.
I put the backpack on, and off I went. It was time for the daring theatrics. Making people think I was drunk. Not just a little drunk either. They needed to think I was incapacitated. No one would suspect me as the culprit, if I have to be “carried” to my room. After all, I’d been in the Station Bar every night for three weeks. I’d had to be carried to my room for at least four of those recent nights. Me ‘showing up drunk’ wouldn’t be outside of things.
I needed to look, and smell, the part. That was going to be the harder part. I went over to the storage unit on the wall. Did I even have anything here? I looked through my available stored items that it could recall. Ahh, Whiskey. I knew I’d saved that bottle for a good reason.
I cracked open the 2954 Whiskey as soon as it was delivered. Oddly, it hadn’t taken very long. Must not have been very deep in storage. It would work just fine, however. I found that out when I cracked the lid. It was potent. I took a big swig. It burned like I’d swallowed the liquid version of a Sun. It was a good burn, though. The kind that helps a girl forget about a great host of things.
Wasn’t time for that, however, as I had things to do. I poured a tiny bit of the whiskey onto my shirt, and a bit of the dark liquid onto my pants. They were equally as dark. No one was around to watch it, anyway. So it didn’t really matter. The cleaning staff would be through on their shift soon. We were close enough to the bar that an assumption could be made. I’d chosen this Storage station because of that. I recapped the bottle and sent it back into the storage terminal. I, very much, smelled the part now. I wasn’t even buzzed.
I stumbled into the Station Bar. Starting the act as early as possible. Gotta convince the locals. It shouldn’t be too hard. There, sitting at the bar, was Haley. The Dockmaster I’d made friends with a week ago. She was one of the kind folks that carried me to my room. Ya know, on the occasions that I’ve been too drunk to take myself there. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to see me like this again. I stumbled up to her unsteadily, perking my eyes in recognition, “Haley?! Oh! Hey! What are… y.. ya doin.. here?” I hiccuped and unsteadily sauntered into a table. Really selling the point.
As I suspected, she took the bait. She had been talking to two other friends nearby. “It’s Friday! Didn’t you remember? I told you last week I’m always here on Fridays. Are you doing okay? I heard about your stolen cargo from your friend. He said it’s made you somewhat listless. I don’t really think of you that way, you seem to be keeping your handle on things! You sure you need more drinks, though, luv,” she had stood up at some point. I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy studying her company. This had officially gone south.
I looked up at her, trying to seem as though I was having trouble focusing on her face. “No! No! I’m fine. I.. I’m shure, jush needed to dansh!” I slurred. It was as drunk as I’ve ever remembered acting. I wasn’t laying it on too thick, however. That would have the opposite effect. Ending with me in medical.
A man looked up from the table she had been seated at. He smiled and looked me up and down. His eyes made that look that men make when they’re thinking of you more as food, than as a person. Fuck. I really had hoped she was drinking alone. She had been for the past three weeks. The man stood, and began walking in our direction. He hadn’t even cared that I existed, moments before.
He had heard the state of me, seen me, and then looked at me like a five course meal. This was about to go south very, very fast. I really hoped this was her boyfriend, and that she had really bad taste in men. If not, this was about to get a lot more complicated. This just wasn’t my day.
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