A Thorn Among the Roses
14 Sep 2016Kyndi the Badass Space Chick
Thank God she's finally asleep. I thought she was going to stare at me all damn night.The little girl is finally out, curled up on my bunk under the covers. She didn't do much after settling back down onto my bunk, just wrapping herself in a blanket and never looking away from me if I walked through the pilot's quarters. It had been difficult to get very far while she'd been awake, since the little urchin had insisted on silently following me whenever I went up front to the cockpit, too.
So now, here she was, asleep and breathing softly. Time to get forward and start heading to Cubeo. It's a long ways away, and the ship isn't going to fly itself there. I reach forward and pull the emergency straps from the sides of the bunk, securing the little girl into place. I'm not expecting any trouble from my client- by the time he notices that I'm late, I'll be way the hell into Imperial space.
I frown as I pull the strap snug. But it never hurts to be prepared...
There's also the issue of speed. The cargo containers were rigged as makeshift cryo pods, and I didn't want any more passengers waking up and munching on my ration bars. One little girl I could handle- but what if a pair of middle-aged men popped their tops and said hello? That simply wouldn't do.
I spend as much time as I can pushing the Cool Under Pressure as hard as she can go. Skipping my usual laid-back scooping cycle, I fly closer to the stars than normal, risking heat damage for the sake of getting my cargo to safety as soon as possible. Just aft of the Diamondback's cockpit is a sleeping little girl. I glance to the door behind me and frown.
You're the only human being who's showed her a shred of compassion in God knows how long. She's safe. She's warm. She trusts you.
I turn back to the controls, finalizing the final leg to Cubeo.
And you've got to get rid of her as soon as possible.
Yes, I already told you: this is Lakon Kappa Mu, with a hold full of slaves in need of help.
Jesus. Never thought I'd be actively alerting the pigs to illicit goods.
An escort while I fly to the planet's surface? That's really not necessary, but-
Oh, wow. For being a do-gooder abolitionist, you sure do enjoy power tripping over strangers.
- alright, fine. Escorts it is. Angel of Mercy Starport, bay sixteen. Got it.
Alright, Kyndi Jane. Time to mix it up with the Smurfs.
Cubeo's an Imperial world, alright. What's more, it's an important one. Ship traffic is heavy, and one of those gargantuan Majestic-class Interdictors hangs ominously in orbit. Even if I could ditch the fighter escort, I could never shake the swarm of snub fighters a ship like that could launch at any moment. Looks like I'm committed to liberating these slaves, after all.
Mercifully, the little girl's been asleep the entire time. The jarring and shaking of entering atmo might wake her, but the trip's almost done. Then, it's getting into contact with the Authorites, turning her over to Aisling's Angels, and me getting the hell away from this den of do-gooders.
I level my ship out for final approach as the Imperial metropolis comes in to view. My escorts break off, leaving me alone to coast through the afternoon sky, my HUD guiding me to the starport.
I find my pad without any trouble and shut down the engines. Waiting for me is a group of white-clad cadre of Aisling's Angels, the princess's chief orginization of overgrown Space Scouts. I repress a scowl as I wave to them from my cockpit.
Yeah, hi. Just unload the goods and get me the hell out of here.
Hello? Wake up. It's me. We're here.
Ugh. Look at her. Tired, unfed, filthy dress. Some caretaker you are.
There you go. Yeah, there's people here to take care of you. We have to hurry. They're waiting outside.
Yeah, you're definitely making me look bad. Next time I rescue some poor slave kid, it'll be with a sack of clean clothes and toys.
Yes, you can hold my hand. This is the entry ramp. Want to push the button?
Jesus, that's bright. Guess it's been awhile since I soaked in some natural sunlight, huh?
See those people? They're Aisling's Angels. The good guys.
Barf.
Well, hello officer. Yeah. This is one of them. The rest are on ice up in the hold.
How, you ask? Good question. Thought I was hauling mining gear, turns out I was hauling the miners.
My Pilot's Fed ID? Sure. Here you go.
Thank God I don't have any Imperial bounties at the moment.
Thank you. And yeah, I'll pop the cargo right open for you folks. This little one? No idea. She hasn't said a word to me the entire time. Just eats, sleeps, and stares.
Well no shit she's traumatized, Officer Obvious. Why do you think I brought her here?
Yeah, fine. I'll sign for the delivery. So- they're your problem now, right?
Oh, fuck. The little girl doesn't want to let go.
And you'll take good care of them?
And a part of me doesn't, either. Fucking goddamn shit. Quit being an idiot, Kyndi.
Listen, uh- can you give us a moment?
Alright, kid- it's like this.
You can't come with me. I can't take care of you. I didn't even know that you were on my ship until you woke up and pushed out of your container. It took a lot of strength to do that. I know you'll be okay, okay?
So... goodbye. These people will take care of you. You and all the other people in the containers.
There you go. Let go. See that lady in the white? Just go with her. You'll be fine.
Ahem. You will take good care of her, right? Yeah?
You'd better, or I'll fly back here and rip your tits off.
Alright, officer. She's all yours.
Shut up. Of course no human can own another human. You know what I meant.
Listen, not to sound like a mercenary or anything, but it wasn't exactly free to get her here. Think the Angels could send a little divine aid my way?
Yeah? Now you're talking. A full hold of slaves gets me-
A fuel voucher.
Cha-fucking-ching.
What's that? Work for the Angels? Further the Righteous Crusade against slavery, drugs, and immorality?
Hmm. I don't know. I'll have to think it over.
Oh. Wait. I've got my answer.
I didn't come here to join your little band of do-gooder smurfs. Half the people here are desperate losers who can't resist a pretty face, and the other half are suckers for a lost cause. I dropped these people here because it was the decent thing to do, not because I want to get tied down in the service of some cow-eyed princess. Got that? I don't care how many holo-boards you've got plastered around. And no, I'm not interested in a brochure.
Plans? You're asking about my plans?
Right now, I'm thinking that I'll fly to the nearest indy system, smoke the fattest available joint while sat on the fattest available dick and balance out this entire fucked-up experience my way.
How's that for a fucking plan?
Note: Thanks to Marra for the title suggestion! Check her out here!