Bitter/Sweet
20 Oct 2022Eddie Stone
The click of a gun being cocked, and the woman’s voice: “Turn around slowly, hands where I can see them!”You know, thought Eddie, this isn’t turning out to be much of a date…
It hadn’t even started out as that. Aboard one of the stations in the Delkar system, he’d done one of his sets in a well-appointed club and had settled down with a glass of cold cider. This woman had come up to his table; young, slim, pretty, long chestnut hair. Enthused about his music and sat down without actually being invited. He thought he could see where this was going, just some impressionable admirer. Elise, she had said her name was. As the evening had worn on, he noticed that she barely touched her own drink and seemed quite interested in his past. Which he was, of course, quite cagey about. None the less, she had started to get more flirtatious, and he found himself thinking, ah why the hell not.
So she had invited him back to her place.
“Just up here,” she said finally, letting him go first. He slid his hands into his coat pockets as he heard the accessway door hiss shut behind them. And then a pause, and that fateful click.
He remained looking ahead.
“Who are you, really ?” he said, casually.
“Turn around. Hands!”
So he spun on his heel, and obediently took his hands out of his pockets - holding his plasma pistols. Levelled them at her face before she could react.
“Shit,” he heard her mutter.
“The good old Mexican standoff,” he said, “you do know, you will come off worse, whatever happens?”
“Drop the guns,” she said, only the faintest tremor in her voice, “you’re under arrest.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. You’re from the Company, aren’t you? The classic honey trap.”
“Sergeant Elise McGrath,” was her reply, “and you, Mr. Stone, are going to pay for your crimes.”
“And what crimes might those be?”
“Sabotage. Multiple counts of murder.”
“Wrong. Anyone who died, that’s all on the Company. Add them to the list of all the others they’ve killed over the years. Like my parents.”
“Your self-righteous terrorist bullshit doesn’t impress me,” she snapped, “now put those weapons down.”
“I don’t think so,” he replied and took a step forward.
“Drop them!” He could she she was trembling.
“Guess you’ve never shot anyone before,” he said, his voice strangely gentle, “and you don’t know if you can pull the trigger before I do.” He saw the slight change on her face, grinned and threw himself to one side, guns twitching to the left. Fired. Two hissing balls of plasma struck the corridor wall by McGrath’s face and exploded, just as a bullet from her gun ricocheted off the ceiling. The flash and heat did as Eddie had intended, and stunned her. He leapt up as she staggered and fell, cracking her head on the wall.
He disarmed her and then placed her in the recovery position, called for help with his wristerm.
“Medics required, please. Level twenty, section seventy-four. Adult female with superficial burns, shock, possible concussion.”
“Confirmed. Team ETA six minutes.”
McGrath stirred and groaned. Eddie knelt next to her.
“Paramedics en route,” he said quietly, “you’ll be okay.”
She mumbled. “We’ll get you…one day…”
He leaned closer. “No. You won’t. Tell your goddamn bosses to quit whilst they’re ahead. I’m done with that part of my past, and I expect the same from them.” Paused, stared into her eyes. “Note that I let you live, Sergeant. I didn’t have to. Anyone else who tries to chase me down will not be so lucky.”
He stood, and with a whirl of his long leather coat, was gone.
Flew The Saint of Apis back to Silves Dock, where he had another gig booked. To be fair, the money from them was minimal compared to what he could make as a pilot; he mainly performed simply because he enjoyed it.
He sat down afterwards, his usual post-performance glass of cider hardly touched the sides. He swirled the dregs around the glass, wondering if he should have another…and a soft clunk as a fresh pint was placed in front of him. Eddie looked up, eyes focussing on the figure in front of him. Average height, lean build, wearing a flight suit the hue of dried blood over a black RemLok. A careworn face, pockmarked cheeks and tired eyes. Well, guess this wasn’t another honey trap job. It was then he noticed the discreet pendant the man wore, intricately worked from precious metals, a winged emblem. The sign of a triple-Elite pilot.
“Might I have the honour of joining you?” asked the man quietly. Soft voice, no obvious accent.
Eddie gestured to the chair opposite his own.
“Please do.” The man sat, setting down his own drink, a glass of pale beer. He peered at Eddie, his eyes suddenly piercing.
“You have a rare talent in those fingers of yours,” he said.
“Thank you,” Eddie replied cautiously.
“I have a fleet carrier in orbit out there,” the man continued, “and while it doesn’t have any public access bars, there are several crew leisure areas. It might be nice for them to have some live music, for a change.”
Eddie took a mouthful of cider. “Sure, Commander - “
“Tristan Raynor. Though I go by the alias of TripleRazor most of the time.”
“Eddie Stone.”
“Will you require transport to the carrier?”
“I have a ship.”
“Ah! A fellow Commander!” Raynor grinned. “What do you fly?”
“Viper Mark Four. Although I’m thinking it’s time to start looking for an upgrade. But, as I’m sure you know, it’s not just the money. It’s finding the time and the components to make a stock ship into something a little more capable.”
Raynor raised an eyebrow, looked at Eddie over the rim of his glass.
“Well now. That process I am very familiar with. You interest me, Commander Stone. It goes without saying that the galaxy is a dangerous, uncertain place. Sometimes one can find themselves overwhelmed or out of their depth, be it inadvertently or by design.”
“Tell me about it!”
“I’ve been considering putting together a…team. A coalition of pilots who can help each other out if needs be. Ease the burden of striving for betterment. Might you be down for that?”
Eddie sat back and studied Raynor. There was no deception in his words or mannerisms. And given what had happened so recently, perhaps someone to have your back would not be a bad thing.
“Sure,” he said, “I’m in.” He extended a hand and they shook. Raynor smiled gratefully and they swapped contact details. Sat for a while and chatted until the older man finished his beer.
“Good to meet you, Commander Stone. I’ll be in touch about the gig. Oh, and as for the team, if there’s anyone else you know…”
Eddie put his feet up on the desk, in the cramped cabin of The Saint of Apis. Looked around. Yeah. This was a good little ship, but he definitely needed something larger. Carefully tamped some weed into the bowl of a pipe, pressed the igniter and took a long draw. Exhaled and watched the smoke curling and rising as the air cycler took it away. His brow furrowed as Raynor’s parting words came back to him: “if there’s anyone else you know…”
He found himself wondering where Sally was.