Part 1: Just a Better Dressed Rat
08 Dec 2020Seajays
So here I am – a member of the “Guardians of Harmony”.
Peace, Prosperity and Harmony. That’s their motto – or at least that’s what it says on their recruitment posters.
I mean, I could certainly do with a bit of that in my life, there’s no doubt about that. These last few years have had precious few moments of peace. And prosperity? That has been sadly lacking as well. Harmony? Well there was that girl in Siodmak City - that was pretty harmonious… but that’s another story entirely.
How did I get here though? Let me tell you about the man I met a year ago after I’d ended up on the Squirrel’s Nest in Pleione. I’d been drifting around, catching lifts from station to station for a couple of years. Nobody knew me, and I didn’t know anyone. I’d just turn up and call in at the nearest faction office to see if they had work.
And there’s always work. Grunt work. Not the glamorous work of a pilot, but the gritty realism of life in a maze of sealed metal boxes floating in vacuum. Stuff breaks down. Blockages need clearing in the bowels of a station – and believe me, bowels is a good word for it. It was difficult, cramped and often stinking, but beggars can’t be choosers, and it gave me a few credits. Kept me alive.
One night, after a hard shift, I’d gone to the bar for a few drinks. Had a few laughs with the locals and the travellers, played a couple of hands of Carnact. My luck wasn’t in though – the few credits I had to spare didn’t multiply – they evaporated. That’s when I saw him. A grizzled old Commander sat quietly nursing a beer staring right at me. No smile, no nod. Just a stare.
I looked away. Glanced back. He still had me fixed in those steely grey eyes.
My mind started racing. This could mean a few things. Bounty hunter? Maybe. Gang member? Could be as well. My past was not a spotless robe. I thought about where the exits were – which could I reach quickest and which had most cover.
He beckoned me over. I looked at him. He raised his hand again – not a human hand, but the polished metallic shine of a prosthetic, thin lights tracing around the joints. One finger pointed at me, and beckoned again. Okay, I thought, how bad can this be? We’re in public after all, and weapons scanners are all over the ship. I rose and walked over towards him.
“Ceill Janray?", he said, "Or should that be ‘Seajays’?”, his voice dark and gravelly like a densely packed asteroid belt. “I know that's who you are, so let’s not run loops. Sit.”. He gestured to the chair opposite him.
I sat. He fixed me with those eyes of his once again. Seconds passed in silence, and then…
“Your father’s dead.”
My blood turned to ice. A cold sweat – a lump in my throat. “So?”, I managed to croak, “You’ve come all this way to tell me that? You’ve wasted your time – he’s been dead to me a long time now.”
My voice trailed away to a mumble. Words spoken that I’d only ever thought – and even then without much conviction.
“That’s not my business”, he said. “His ship is yours – I’ve come to give you his codes. What you do with it is up to you. Sell it. Fly it. Whatever you want.”.
He placed a data core in the middle of the table.
I stared at it. A moment passed… stretched… became an eternity.
My life changed.
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❱❱❱ Part 2: Start at the Beginning He Said ❱❱❱
