How I Got Here: "A Sit Down"
31 Aug 2022Columbuss
Commander Justin Estok. Stardate 31-AUG-3308."...if I don't walk out of here, neither will you."
The Gimini Club, like most social clubs people in the life spend time in, was private. It functions as a bar for members, but it's not the kind of place you wander into for a drink after work. It's not the kind of place where a friendly bar tender will lend you an ear to vent your troubles. In this place, you won't find much colorful conversation. It was dimly lit and tight, with light coming in from the lamps off of the street. The large front window looks out onto what used to be a crowded road, before pillars supporting the platforms above replaced the people here.
"Aldous Crane's splitting rocks on a prison colony in the core worlds," Sue Price says, looking up from her table while smoke billows up from an ashtray in front of her. "So who the fuck are you?"
"Columbus, Ms. Price. I represent new management in the Crane organization. I want to go on record that I've come heavy."
This life, a lot of it's spoken in code. Something you want known, in the life we call that "going on record". It means you're making a statement that you want made clear to everyone it might concern. In this life, it's important to make the distinction, like when you might pose a danger to the people you're dealing with. "Going on record" means that what you say is going on the books. "Coming in heavy", that means you've got a gun.
"Heavy?!" she says, sitting back in her chair, looking at her associates with a "can you believe this guy?" look on her face. "You've got a lot of balls kid, I'll tell you that! Coming in to my club, carrying, and without an appointment?! Sit down."
Two men grab me from behind and push me down in a chair at the table, opposite Sue. She takes a long drag from her cigarette before placing it back in the ashtray.
"So, what brings an associate of Aldous Crane down here below the boards without an appointment?" she asks.
"I'm here on behalf of John Grayson. He's calling in a favor. It's the desire of Mr. Crane that I collect on that favor."
"John Grayson?!" she asks, "That miserable piece of shit fucks me over and has the balls to ask ME for a favor?!"
She stands up, leaning over the table to assert control over the conversation.
"And what's to stop me from sawing your head off and sending it back to that piece of shit in a fuckin' box?"
"Nothing." I say, triggering my gravity boots under the table as they suction to the steel floor with two loud clangs. Hearing the boots, the crowd gathered around the table step back, drawing guns from their waists and putting them to my head.
"The favor is none of my business, Ms. Price." I continue. "What IS my business is collecting on that favor. Judging from your reaction to my boots, you've no doubt gathered that I'm an offworlder. Now, I have no REAL vested interest in whether you want to make good on your favor or not and I have no interest in this discussion becoming any harder than it has to be. However, if you want to go that route, we can. With the gravity the way it is down here, I'd wager I can pull out my pistol and squeeze off one shot before these goons put my brains on the table. I'm clearly out numbered and can't promise I can fight my way out of here. What I CAN promise, Ms. Price, is that if I don't walk out of here, neither will you."