If there’s anything Uncle Jim can do. Finalle.
29 Nov 2021Wulthus
As JB started to pour out two glasses of gin he nodded to the window… gesturing towards the prisoner aboard the incoming transfer ship;“Do you still want me to send your boy back to The Kitchen now you’ve got somewhere to lay low?” JB asked, knowing how the poor bastard would be feeling with freedom a mere few LS away. “I’m still to send confirmation of his return to the cells?”
Roberto returned the cheeky smile as he watched J.B. filling up his glass. For the first time in a few weeks, things seemed to go well for the man. Finally. It was time for celebation, and well earned rest. Falcone didn't even wait for his interlocutor to join in his toast.
-He's coming back, like we've prevously discussed. I bet your ass he was shitting all over himself on his way here. Us establishing a foothold here doesn't really make a difference...
-"... It makes matters worse, actually." He added, again mumbling to himself.
Roberto took another swig of his gin and glanced at the window J.B. was pointing at just a moment ago.
-"Actually, you took all the effort to bring him here ... you think I can get a chance to talk to the sorry bastard before I bugger off?"
JB grinned and shrugged in reply as he took a swig from his glass.
-“The room’s all yours, chief… Lucky Numbers,” he toasted as he finished his drink, then got up out of his chair. “The guard detail will take your boy back down to The Big House... a shuttle can take you back to your ship aboard the “Head Chef”. I’ve got to bounce but, as always, it’s been good to see you, brother.”
JB extended his hand out for Roberto Falcone to shake.
-"Sure, sure.... It was good to see you too, brother, in one piece and all..."
Falcone quickly finished up his drink and shook J.B's hand. One hard talk was now behind him. There was another one coming, right there on the prison shuttle idling outside the station. Hard talk with a hard decision to make.
Just before he left, he paused to finish up his smoke. Roberto approached a window, getting a good look at the ship. A worry returned to his face. A few moments later, Falcone dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, and stomped it. He then released a deep sigh, and again, regained his compolsure. It was time to head towrds the exit.
Back aboard The Cuckoo, JB sat at the controls as he lifted the battered-black Keelback off the pad. His comms list was filled with jobs for the next week or so.
His ship was designed to keep his reclusive clients away from prying eyes; from gang bosses wanting to move without authorities knowing… celebrities wanting to keep under the radar… to high-paying love-rats that want to keep their extramarital escapades to themselves. The run-down exterior masked the high-end cabins aboard The Cuckoo, with it’s powerful engines and long-range jump-drive, so that nobody expected the punchy little ship to have anything of interest behind it’s peeled paint.
JB accepted the first of the jobs on his list, set a route to the pick-up… let out a huge sigh… then fired up the FSD.
He hoped he’d have a chance for some R&R soon… but, according to his list… it may be a while till that came around.
~ By Wulthus, J.B.Threepwood