Pirate Lords: Part 2
21 Sep 2018Garesu
Ellis Gateway, The Drift and Tiki BarWhite and grey mag boots trimmed with gold clanked as he walked slowly through the metal corridors of the Coriolis station. He stood out like a sore thumb compared to the stark metal walls and drab attire of the general working people of the station.
Yet everyone ignored him, his white coat with grey and orange stitching covered the ostentatious gold flight suit underneath. Today he had his hair a military short back and sides but on top was still long enough that with the steps it fell brown and grey over his gold cybernetic eye.
His hand brushed the cool smooth grip of the Paris Eleganté Laser Pistol holstered to his left hip as he drew to a stop. Looking up Garesu brushed his hair back into position and sprayed it with a small can of Genome Inc Anti-grav Hairspray before tossing the one use can in the trash near him.
“You drag me to the strangest places.” He muttered under his breath before stepping through the maw of a huge, leering tiki mask and into the Drift. It’s like being on the inside of a lazily spinning whisky barrel he mused. The decor Polynesian by way of 20th-century American kitsch, patrons relaxed on deck chairs scattered around the circumference of the barrel, drinking fluorescent cocktails under stunted palm trees. The air is humid, and the atmospheric system had been tuned to give the sounds and smells of the ocean.
He wasn’t sure if he had stood there too long taking in the strange place but a woman sauntered over she had dark skin and dreadlocks, dyed green and piled up on her head, held roughly in place with a pale scarf. The rest of her was what he could only say was an amalgamation of tribal garb and a stereotypical waitress dress.
“You lost your Lordship? I think you are on the wrong deck.” Raising an eyebrow he scanned the room disregarding her remark. Most imperials weren’t liked, the whole slavery thing he supposed. Federals and Alliance just did not understand the system. With a sigh, he found what he was looking for.
“No, I am exactly as requested. Please bring a bottle of Captain Morgans and two glasses to my table.” Walking past her without a look he stood before the reason he had been dragged down into the belly of the station. “So, this is where you have been hiding. Too scared to even leave port?”
The individual was laying back in the provided deck chairs, a set of reflective shades covering his eyes as he likely was enjoying a high given the numerous Nicotine and Onionhead inhalers scattered on the table beside him. The man sat up and looked Garesu up and down.
“Damn! The big man came down from his pearly tower just for little me. Well, I figured if I couldn’t beat the King in space I could kill you right here. Of course, I brought some friends, where is your wing, commander?”
As the last words left his lips Gareau's resting hand drew the almost harmless looking laser pistol. Of course, the technology employed in the weapon made up for its passive flamboyant appearance. His cybernetic eye traced four figures getting up from their deck chairs. Nothing but thugs rushing to grab at their weapons.
In what was a thought for him the pistol grip moulded and balanced the weapon perfectly in his hand the barrel facing the first thug and after the flash, he moved it deftly in a turn that let off three more flashes.
Screams and shouts erupted and as he finished the turn. A bullet impacted his chest knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to take a step back. “God I’m too out of shape for this.” The crumpled bullet fell away from the coat leaving a black impact mark on the white.
Putting the barrel to the Pirate Lords head the man's brain splattered and cooked against the floor and wall behind them. The canvas deck chair ripped under the dead weight slowly dropping the corpse through the hole leaving it folded in half.
The room was strangely quiet now. The waitress whimpered in the corner, the men he had clocked and shot groaned an one sat sobbing. “He… he shot my dick off! Shot my f***ing dick off.”
“Seriously. Sorry, I was aiming at your head.” Slapping the side of his own head the UI from his implant went fuzzy and then went clear again. “Now where are my drinks?” The waitress shakily walked over, the fake glass rattling on the tray.
With his free hand, he took the bottle and poured the two glasses drinking one he poured the other on the Pirate Lord. “Cheers to you.” A figure came to a stand just in Garesu’s peripheral vision. “Seriously?” he sounded disheartened. “You’re here? Can you not act like one of the directors?” Turning he looked at the smug bystander.
“what’ this was a perfectly nice bar till you walked in.” The man was older than Garesu, a worn Federal Navy uniform was patched over with Pilot Federation Elite ranks and stitched crisscrosses ran around the left sleeve from personal combat skills. A combat knife was neatly tucked into his right black mag boot handle going over the worn green camo trousers one might normally expect from a merc. Aside from the federal jacket, the only other thing that stuck out was the Starstone Enterprise logo stitched to the shoulder of his right arm.
“If you insist Yani. This is the black market district, I don’t think I made any friends today” The sound of hurried footfalls came from the corridor and they sounded armoured.
“Doubt that's station security. So, I will help you hmm, if you buy me this bar. Your Highness.” Ykanello laughed and took a puff of what looked like an old-fashioned rolled cigarette. Garesu frowned at the federal Merc. It was troublesome but he could not shoot him. It was in the contract.
“Merc to the end. Fine.” Shooting the crying pirate in the chest Garesu turned towards the door kicking over a table for cover. “Shame I didn't meet you when you worked for the feds. Maybe we could have found out who really was the better soldier.”
“Only one triple Elite in this room.” The old federal merc drew a rather fat looking pistol from a shoulder-slung holster under his coat. The Corvus Inc Devastation Pistol, Garesu knew well enough to keep his head down for a minute.
Holding the ‘pistol’ with both hands it gave an audible whir as the power charged up and the barrel began to spin. Unnamed grunts likely of the various gangs pushed down in the black market sectors burst through the arch of the tiki mask mouth.
Blue dots lit up on all their chests as the gun did the maths. A deafening howl erupted as blue jets balanced the gun and red nozzle flair escaped the automatically adjusting barrel.
Four hundred rounds ripped through armour and flesh, left stunned faces on grunts that dropped to the floor feeling safe behind the wall waiting for Ykanello to run out of ammo.
The silence was only broken by the hiss as the so-called pistol cooled down. “Gonna need a bit to reload.” He ducked down next to Garesu and a hail of bullets and lasers began to break apart their flimsy cover.
Taking a small ornate orb from his pocket, with a sad sigh he twisted the top and pushed a button before throwing it over his shoulder towards the tiki mask entrance.
“There goes eight million credits.” The globe caused a panic with shouts of “Grenade! And are they crazy!” from the outlaws. Nothing appeared to happen as it rolled to an anti-climactic stop.
Outlaws laughed and began to open fire. Their table cover now barely a shield Ykanello was about to return fire but was pushed further back using the remaining metal table as cover they jumped over behind the bar.
Still no noise only a light blue glow covered the broken wood walls revealing the metal behind. Garesu gestured to the merc to stay down and don’t look.
From the Outlaws perspective, the small orb began to hover into the air. Blue began to pulse stronger and stronger casting the odd hue over the tiki bars decorations.
“Oh god! I…” It was screaming just the sound of pleading that could be heard as the outlaws who were encompassed in the hue fell to their knees. Eyes turning bloodshot they began to vomit or wretch, clutching their head and chest they rolled around pleading for it to end.
Garesu poked his head above the bar since the hue had died down. “I think they give up.” Pirates and common outlaws sat clutching their wounds or heads. Some had blood coming from their eyes and the stench of vomit rose from the corridor.
Heavy footfalls came again but this time shouts of “It’s the cops!” sounded and heavily armoured police officers began suppressing the remaining or conscious rabble.
“You owe me the bar.” Ykanello stepped out from behind the bar hands up with his id chit in one hand. Police looked and then gave a nod letting him pass by out of the devastated bar.
Sitting back down behind the bar. Garesu found a fallen bottle of rum and popped the top taking a much-needed drink for his nerves. He hated personal combat. “So.” Looking to the side where the waitress and a bartender cowered in each other's arms. “Who do I talk to, to buy this place?”