Settling a Grievance: Chapter 4
30 Jun 2016LordPsymon
Previous chapterSettling a Grievance: Chapter 4
It turns out an Imperial Clipper in the middle of Federation space is not the best idea for smuggling. As I slowly edged toward the mail slot of Dalton Gateway, it felt like every Fed within an 8 kilometer radius had their eyes on me. White Pearl stood out like a sore thumb and I was beginning to regret taking it on this run.
God damn it, I swear every cop in this area is looking at me right now. Kinda wishing I took Rattlesnake for this.
I was close to the mail slot, but then…
***Scan detected***
Fuck!
“Howdy there pilot. Mind if I take a peek inside your hold? This won’t take long.”
Sweat started to drip down my forehead. Time slowed to a crawl as I waited anxiously to be ordered to power down my engines. A Federal Eagle maneuvered in front of my canopy, painted with the standard System Security livery, keeping its nose pointing toward me and maintaining a small distance between us as it continued its scan.
“You’re clean pilot. You may continue your business.”
The eagle sped off toward the next ship in his line of sight.
Wait… what just happened there?
I sat back and lazily released the air from my lungs as I entered the station.
A man stood at the entrance to my hangar, waiting for me to arrive to take the cargo off my hands. He wore a long, brown trench coat and had dark, balding hair while his demeanor was sly, yet friendly. He approached as I strolled down the cargo ramp.
“You must be Simon. You got Benny’s o-head?” he said with an enthusiastic tone.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I got it… Somehow it managed to slip past the Fed’s scanners though.”
He winked. “Shielded cargo containers. Though frankly, I’m surprised the Feds didn’t stop you on the spot with that ship of yours. She’s a beauty, for sure, but ships of that model tend to make people suspicious around here.”
I nodded. “I’m starting to realize that.”
“Well, I’ll have a crew here to unload the cargo and I’ll give Benny the heads up that you’re done. There’s going to be a lot of stoned newjacks tonight for sure! Ya ever tried o-head before?”
I shook my head, raising my hands. “Not really, I’m more of a whisky and beer person myself.”
He handed me a joint. “First time for everything eh?”
I flinched a little. “Well… I don’t know if…”
The man insisted. “Go on, you look tense as shit. Besides, ain’t it a good idea to know what you’re delivering?”
I took the joint and he handed me a lighter. “Well… Okay. What the hell?”
I lit the joint, taking a slow puff. Instantly I felt a burning in my lungs and went into a small fit of coughing. I felt a rush to my head and then suddenly calmness took over. The man laughed as I finished my coughing fit.
Holy shit.
I took another drag of the joint, only letting off a small cough the second time. It suddenly felt like nothing mattered, and my head felt a little cloudy.
The man nudged me in the arm. “And that is how a whole bunch-a newjacks are going to feel later. Supply of this stuff’s been a little short since the Feds have been crackin’ down. Many of the people on this station have just started out as pilots and they think they’re hot-shots, and boy do a lot of them like to hit the o-head.”
I handed him back the joint. “Well, if I was having a doozy of a day before, I’m certainly not now.”
I turned back toward the inside of my ship as the last of the containers was unloaded.
“That should about do it I think, take it easy flying back to Kremainn. First time’s usually quite rough on your flying ability.” The man remarked.
I felt the ship tug as the engine nacelle clipped the wall of the mail slot on my way out. I struggled to concentrate, but I had to get back to Wohler Terminal. I aligned the ship toward Kremainn, pushed the throttle to full and…
...woke up about six hours later, still flying in the same straight line since leaving the station.
I looked around, feeling very confused. What the hell? How long was I out for?
I checked my sensors, still locked on Dalton Gateway - 6,400 kilometers away.
Son of a bitch. Now I am definitely having a doozy of a day.
The landing clamps took hold of White Pearl and the landing platform lowered into the hangar. I left the pilot’s chair and scrambled into the living area, hopping into the shower to try and clear my head. I closed my eyes and let the warm water run down my face, sending relief through all parts of my body.
That’s the last time I accept drugs from an overly friendly drug dealer.
I stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying myself off then changed into some fresh clothes, ready to go and meet Benito to finalize everything.
We agreed to meet back at Delinquent’s Inn. The place was quiet, leading me to believe that it was Wohler Terminal’s equivalent to morning. Benito sat in the corner again, smoking a cigarette and reading a holo book. He briefly looked up as I entered the bar, signalling me to come and sit down.
“Sorry I’m late, things got a little interesting on the flight back. I uhhh… Passed out on the way back.”
The olive-skinned man sniggered quietly. “First time on the onionhead huh? It’s known to make a lot of first-timers a bit… sleepy.”
I pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning on the table. “Yeah, and I still feel a bit woozy.”
“It’ll wear off compadre. Good to see that you imps can be reliable. I didn’t think you’d pull it off in that ship of yours.”
“That seems to be the running theme so far,” I joked. “Now I believe you have a part in this deal to fulfill.”
“Indeed. I have spoken to an acquaintance in Eravate who has agreed to meet with you planet side. He’ll be able to help you locate Reck, but like me, he’ll require you to do him a favour to earn his trust.”
More favours… Wonderful.
“Alright. I’ll prep my ship shortly. Do you have a location?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow. “We will not be taking that Clipper of yours, compadre! I will fly you there on my own ship. Yours is too conspicuous.”
I sighed and nodded. “You make a fair point.”
“We leave in one hour. Meet me at docking bay eleven.” The olive-skinned man stood up and strolled out of the bar.
Sitting on the docking pad was a Lakon Spaceways Type-6 transporter. Its black paint job was scraped and scarred, revealing the grey metal beneath. It had red lettering on the side spelling Cuestión de Azar. Benny was waiting by the entry ramp of the ship, leaning against one of the landing gear.
“Come on compadre, let’s not keep my acquaintance waiting,” he remarked as I approached, carrying a duffel bag with spare clothing and a few supplies.
I was standing in the cockpit, holding on to the railing behind the pilot’s seat where Benny sat, flying the ship.
“Hold tight Datura, we’re about to break atmo,” he warned as we rapidly approached the glowing blue atmosphere of Eravate 5. The ship began to shake as the shields glowed, protecting us from the pressure of reentry. There was a sudden jolt, sending me falling backward against the bulkhead. My head hit the wall and…
I slowly lowered the battered Sidewinder on the landing pad. As I climbed out of the shattered canopy window, two of the guards ran toward the ship.
“Well, unlucky for you, the slave made it back. You owe me some credits.”
The other guard scoffed as he turned over a bag of credit chips. “It’s just a fluke this time around. I bet he wouldn’t survive a second run. Just look at the state of that Sidewinder.”
I felt a jolt of electricity surge through my body as he hit me with a cattle prod.
“That’s for costing me credits, you filthy little shit. Now get your ass out of here.”
I was thrown to the ground by the disgruntled guard, hitting my head against the floor.
Sweat was running down my head as I returned back to the present time, gripping the hand railing tightly. I looked out of the cockpit window, seeing that we had touched down in an old warehouse district. I heard a familiar voice talking at me.
“You in there Datura? We’re here,” Benny said, hopping out of the pilot’s seat. He took a look at me, frowning as he raised his hand to his chin. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I turned my head toward him, hesitating slightly. “Uhh… Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Well when you’re done daydreaming, we can head on over to my acquaintance.”
I was being lead down a long, filthy corridor of the warehouse district. The building itself was abandoned, with rusting metal stairways and exposed beams holding up the derelict warehouse.
“You sure this guy is legit?” I enquired with a suspicious tone.
The olive-skinned man shot me a look over his shoulder. “He’s the real deal. Used to be a bit of a big-shot back on Ackerman until his little accident. Lost most of what he had, and it took a long time to recover from his… experience. Now he’s starting again from scratch, taking jobs and setting up shop planetside. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask him… If he’d be willing to tell you.”
I nodded, not quite knowing what to expect. “Got it.”
He stopped and put his hands on the sliding industrial door. “One more thing, compadre.”
“What’s that?”
He frowned. “Don’t mention the arm.”
I shot a confused look at him. “The what?”
He threw open the door, revealing a dimly lit room with large piles of cargo containers. In the middle, a stern looking man sat behind an old industrial desk. He had dark hair with greys on his sides. His clothes were shabby but his face was all business. He held a cigar up to his mouth and lit it with…
...an industrial plasma cutter, emanating from his prosthetic arm.
Oh… The arm… Got it.
I walked the length of the warehouse, treading carefully on the rotting floor which creaked beneath my feet.
Well… I don’t think a handshake is appropriate. I thought as I sat down while Benny helped himself to a drink. The man and I regarded each other for a moment as he took a puff from his cigar. Finally, he spoke in a gravelly, no-nonsense voice.
“So, you’re the newjack who’s been sniffing around for ol’ Reck huh?”