Restoring Dignity: Chapter I
11 Jan 2021Breez Blue
Whenever there's no allies to assist and things are peaceful at home base things can get boring, at least for me. I have always wanted to take a shot at writing something, but until a few weeks ago nothing had grabbed my attention enough to write about it. In many cases it's already been done, or it's something that to me would seem more bland of a read than having a staring contest with a weather report while munching on a sleeve of saltines. I thought it over for some months, and after having some very interesting conversations with various members of the New Republic of Draguan Nu I decided that it would be a decent use of spare time to begin cataloguing its history in story form (Largely at the urging of Ingrid's pupil, Rho).
To put what I have together over time took a lot of effort, and could be in a story all its own. When I approached Ingrid about it she only advised I "write the truth". Yeah, that added a lot of work to it as I was getting most of these stories from the Reightler Dogs bar when these guys actually have the time to add to the content. I think we can all guess where things went from there. Luckily I have a few journalists and a local talk radio host to cross-reference with, as with some of these guys it's like getting the truth from an angler where the fish gets bigger every time. I will be posting these weekly on average, and I hope some people find it a good read.
Fly Dangerously, Readers
Breez Blue
Restoring Dignity: Chapter I
For decades the Draguan Nu system had been known as a haven for pirates, defectors, smugglers, black market dealers and small-time drug kingpins. Of the seven planets in the system two were heavily dotted with their surface sites, drop-off points, warehouses and manufacturing facilities, and most of the system's moons hid many of these places. Over time these groups had become so deeply entrenched that the only merchants that passed into or through the system were the most well-armed convoys or the more daring solo truckers. There was a single Ocellus starport in the system that orbited the first planet, the Empire having abandoned it to the criminal elements almost twenty-four years previously when they had lost complete control of the system. In other words, Draguan Nu was a dump.
The system's only starport, Reightler Dock, wasn't much of a different story than the entirety of Draguan Nu and what it contained. The maintenance crew that had kept up the place over the years gradually dwindled, either leaving for better systems or having gotten caught in the crossfire between warring factions who fought over control of the starport like dogs fighting over a scrap of meat. As the years passed the metallic walls had corroded, the rubberized coating on the floors had peeled away to almost nothing, and the bright fluorescent light covers around the place had dulled to a dingy yellow, giving the entire docking bay a drab look. The further one moved from the docking bay and the offices of the lackadaisical corporations conditions only worsened. A skeleton crew barely kept the cargo moving between the ships and warehouses, the shipyard and outfitting department running, what remained of the lights on, and barely kept the place functioning in general. It took a person that was at least somewhat crazy to find Draguan Nu an appealing place to move to, much less a destination to find an honest job.
Maurice Culinus, however, knew that sometimes it took a crazy person to begin to make a change. He had been an ambitious sort since he had been little, having spent many of his latter teenage years serving aboard a few of the most prestigious war frigates and that the Capitol Defense Fleet had to offer. Over those years he had not just learned the ropes in combat, but had also made strategy one of his main areas of focus during his years in boarding school prior to service. Just a year before he had set out to find a system to reclaim for the Empire, and had deliberately set his sights on Draguan Nu. If he could manage to bring such an unruly system to heel after so many years of anarchy and put it under his own rule he could consider that to be the start of what would likely be many accomplishments down the road. Maurice himself was in his early twenties with plenty of years ahead of him in which to do so.
Over the months since he had first landed his gifted Imperial Cutter at Reightler Dock's port his work had been slow but steady to avoid discovery, first figuring out which dockhands had no affiliation with the criminal organizations through the local chief of security, a gruff Spaniard in his mid forties whom had been more than twenty years on the job. He investigated the information he'd gotten from the guy and it led him to another branch, as the warehouses were the only thing that the corporations still owned. Over time this had spread to a few of the truckers who frequented the place. Sure it had taken some convincing on his part, not everyone had been keen on the idea of helping yet another Imperial stake his claim aboard the starport. This was greeted by guarded optimism when he stated that he planned to use such power to gradually take control of Reightler Dock from the pirates, and a few of the older workers had snickered; they'd heard that one before. To them, either this guy was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie or a typical, haughty power hungry Imperial. At least he didn't have to worry much about the pirates attacking him personally yet, he was tall and had a muscular build so he was rarely approached by an individual looking for a fight. All he had to do was pull his sidearm on whatever trouble deliberately crossed his path, usually causing the person to skulk off long enough for him to be on his way. Then there were those who didn't get the idea and he usually had to smack them sideways or throw them in a building incinerator.
However if he wanted to get any serious work done he would need to put together a group of combat pilots willing to help him shine a turd until no turd remained. In the space left behind he would build the start of his own territorial claim. Maurice had been poring over possible ways to get people hired onto his payroll, but many of those he had contacted over Galnet had regarded him with the same level of seriousness as the more seasoned dock workers. If he was to get any real work done he would have to find these individuals himself, he preferred direct interaction with people where possible anyways, having learned from his father that it was a better method to get a measure of someone's character.
At the moment he sat at the desk of the state room located on Francelle's command deck, an elaborate wooden one with a glass tabletop to offset the sterile white metal paneling that adorned the Cutter's arched walls. He knew that the people he needed to find were those who would dedicate themselves to the system and its people. Of course with his upbringing he could only see a dictatorial solution to the pirate problem, but he had no desire to govern the common people of the system. Initially he would have his hands full with the crime organizations currently running the place, if he could manage to uproot the pirates and quell the constant chaos then local law enforcement would take care of governing the citizens. Eventually he would hire his own security personnel to keep the rabble from killing each other in the alleys anyways.
During his stay Maurice had been searching through old Imperial databases to try to find out how the problem started that caused them to abandon Reightler Dock in the first place. If he could find that perhaps he could work the whole scenario in reverse given the time, people and resources. It was amazing what information had been left unsecured if one knew where to look, standard operating procedure for the Empire as far as he was concerned; they tended to be messy. What he wanted to get at was the more secure information that might betray why the criminal organizations had gathered so much strength right under the Empire's nose. If he knew why it might help him in his own endeavors. He had hired three people whom had helped set up the old hub when the Imps had moved in to help him crack it, but someone had gotten clever before bolting from the system and had left behind a snarl of a firewall. If he was going to get anywhere he would have to look for someone with equal talent, but each attempt was met with a dead end or some other frustrating matter that forced him to look elsewhere.
His answer came to him days later as he was sitting in his office poring through a few holodisks that had been dropped off to him that morning, detailing many of the planetary settlements that the pirates had cleverly tucked into the hills and canyons of Draguan Nu-1. He scratched his ebony crew cut in bafflement when he pored over the details: nerve toxin plants, explosives and illegal munitions manufacturing plants, drug refinement facilities and even a trashed surface mining facility that had been further hollowed out and filled with titty bars. Maurice found the last one a bit odd, but was amazed at how easily they managed to hide things under the noses of the few authority ships that passed through. Perhaps they knew they were there, but didn't bother do anything about it yet, just like himself.
Maurice was startled out of his train of thought when he heard the Cutter's cargo elevator hissing upwards towards the command deck. He grabbed his sidearm from its holster on his belt and cocked it, keeping it out of sight behind his desk and between his knees. Peering down the hallway, Maurice was poised to react in case it was some of the local thugs getting ballsy with him. A shadow passed along the wall as they walked past one of the light panels he got ready to raise the weapon.
Security chief Eliano Sanchez walked around the curve of the main hallway and appeared in his line of sight, a bowl of diced yellow fruit in his hand with red powder covering it. Unlike many of their meetings before, Sanchez had come to see him off duty, and Maurice had yet to see the security chief out of uniform. Upon locking gazes with him Sanchez almost dropped his bowl, and instead dipped out of sight around the bulkhead with startling speed for his stocky build. Maurice decocked his weapon and re-holstered it, standing up and stretching his back.
"My mistake chief, you startled me while I was reading." he said apologetically, unsure of whether Sanchez had his gun drawn around the corner or not. Eliano popped his head around the corner, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"What's your problem, guey? Got a problem with mango con chile?" he asked before stepping into view, one of the yellow chunks speared on the end of a toothpick. "Might not be fancy enough for you, but have you ever seen a Spaniard with a cold?" he joked. Sanchez was constantly taking small jabs at him for being the fancy Imperial in such a run-down starport, albeit light in nature. Maurice gave the question some serious thought, but could only shrug in response. Chief Sanchez stepped into the office, taking a look around. Their prior meetings had always taken place at security services HQ, so the guy hadn't stepped aboard a Cutter before.
"So I've got a proposition for you, Culinus." he stated, his eyes still panning around the room. "The reason behind it is I can't help you any further without risking my own badge, out of the bounds of my job." he added in explanation.
"I understand, but I hope that you checked that this proposition is legitimate." Maurice replied, putting the datapad into a shallow desk drawer.
"Wouldn't be here if I had any doubts if that helps you out any." he answered. "There's this guy I've known since I was a sergeant for the PD. Worked for the Federation as an intel operative for awhile, now he runs his own consulting firm in Amun. He and I keep in touch if I need help with a white collar case. Interested?" he explained. Maurice thought a moment, knowing that putting trust in these types of people could wind up going horribly awry.
"In other words, this guy is a spy." he thought out loud. Sanchez shrugged and nodded, apparently not fazed a bit at having the blunt fact dropped in the middle of the room. His job did have its limits though, and Maurice supposed he couldn't blame the PD for sometimes reaching towards outside sources when their own were so limited. "Okay Sanchez, I'll trust your judgment. How do I contact him?" Maurice asked. If there was any way he could find a knowledgeable source on the matter, the better his chances.
"He's at Moresby Dock in Amun, Culinus. Get out there, land your ship and Sean will handle the rest from there."
"Thanks for the help, Sanchez. Hopefully he can help us figure this out." Maurice said, grateful that he had finally been dropped a hint rather than scavenging for one himself for a change.
"I hope you do, Culinus. If you screw this up our jobs are going to be even more impossible as a ramification." Sanchez warned. As the chief left his office and moved towards the cargo elevator Maurice was given a bit of pause by his words, if he screwed it up he would be lucky if he could get Francelle out of mass lock distance if he needed to escape Reightler Dock all of a sudden.
"So he's at Moresby dock, but I don't need to worry about finding his office?" Maurice asked as the Spaniard turned around and began to walk back down the corridor.
"Don't worry about that. I'm going to let Morales know you're coming, once you land he will meet up with you." Sanchez replied with a chuckle, still walking down the arched command deck towards the cargo elevator. Maurice cocked an eyebrow at the security chief's back, exactly whom was this guy getting him involved with? He had been taught to not look at everything at face value, but he wasn't going to let what could very well be a good lead be tossed to the side, whether the guy would be watching him from the beginning or not. He said that he was notifying his contact that he was on his way, and he figured he had no time to lose.
He opted to take a smaller ship, so he sealed the door between his office and the main deck before making his way towards the cargo elevator. As he called the elevator back up the shaft he figured it would be smarter to take INV Shadow, if he had to go into Federal territory he might as well try to be harder to catch. Moresby Dock wasn't a bad place, but he wasn't a man to take too many chances if he had to be on unfamiliar turf. During the ride down to the cargo deck he looked at the information that Sanchez had given him on his datapad, most of which was heavily redacted. A small amount of doubt hit him when he saw the skinny guy with a wide, goofy grin in the dossier, and he even wore large black-framed spectacles to boot. He knew Sanchez was not the guy to be full of shit, he just had to trust the chief's discretion.