Personal Log 138: 30th October - 7th November 3302
24 Dec 2016Jemine Caesar
30th October - 7th November 3302The Inevitable Betrayal. How fitting.
Whatever had been the reason behind Matt Lehman's choice of name for his ship, it now seemed equally applicable to me. By making love with the man who had earlier saved my life, I had betrayed the man who was the love of my life. I had betrayed him before, with Nathalie Hudson. I would probably have done with Marcus Trelawney and Argent Steel, too.
I gazed at the drab grey metal walls of the room I’d rented. The Last Thing I Do was still undergoing repairs, and I needed some solitude. To think. To ponder. To ask myself what in the name of Gaia I was doing.
It was Steel who had suggested that Sam perhaps ought to be at least a little jealous of the company I occasionally kept. I had assured Steel that Sam had no reason to be jealous, such was the strength of our relationship. Yet I had betrayed him with Matt, selfishly and unthinkingly. It's not that I don't love Sam. On the contrary, I love him with all my heart.
"Oh yes," I told myself, reprovingly. "I love Sam so much that I've taken two other lovers behind his back."
Caz had been my first true love, of course. I gave him my virginity when I was sixteen years old, and in return he gave me a child. When Caz disappeared the day after I told him I was pregnant, it broke my heart. I promised myself that I would never fall in love again, which, given the life I then led, was just as well. The pain of lust is nothing in comparison to the pain of love.
But love gives sex a whole new and wonderful dimension. I'd known that with Caz, and when I became a spacer I instinctively wanted to know it again. I hadn't tasted romantic love in over a decade, and I was eager to seek it out. I almost found it with Rudolphus, and did find it with Sam Hodkin. And it had seemed so natural with Nathalie Hudson, and so right to celebrate with Matt Lehman.
Is that what it was, though? Love? Or just two lonely spacers topping one carnal pursuit with another?
I stood in front of the mirror, stripping off my leather dress and recalling the warm, covetous look in Matt’s eyes. There hadn’t been any doubts as to what he’d wanted, even during the fine meal and charming conversation. And indeed, he’d been more than eager. But after the lovemaking, when he’d held me...
The woman in the mirror stared back at me, her slim body marred by the stretch marks that ringed her stomach. All in all, I’d been lucky there, with only some slight marbling around my navel, but...
But Sam’s never complained. He’s in love with me. All of me. And the way that Matt had touched, and caressed, and knew, and accepted...
I turned away, unable to look at myself. It was only a few paces to the thinly-mattressed bed, and I collapsed onto it without even brushing my teeth. It was fitting that the night was still on my breath. The food, the drink, the olive...
And Matt. I still taste of him, too.
There are no secrets between Sam and me. When I tell him what happened out here in Pegasi, I know that he'll be understanding and forgiving, ready to take me into his arms and move on. I've already put him through such a lot. I honestly don't know what he sees in me. He's kind, gentle and patient, always there for me, yet ready to give me the freedom I need to be true to myself. He and I both knew the realities of life in the black, and had reached an understanding. I’d found myself in Nathalie’s arms, and likewise he’d had a fling with Alice Treadway, the police officer with whom he’d been partnered. So far, our understanding had held, but how strong was it, really?
He was sweet and tolerant when I told him about Nath. But she and I were already good friends. What about some bounty hunter I'd known less than a day? How far will Sam’s loving patience stretch before it snaps? And did I even deserve it in the first place?
I rolled over in the dingy bed, pulling the threadbare blanket over my shoulders. I'm no longer even sure who my true self is. When I was younger, I was Jem the caravan girl. Then, for a brief, shining moment, I was Caz’s. Then, well...
The lump swelled in my throat. Then I was a mother. Until I wasn’t.
But things didn’t get better, in spite of how much I loved Bekka. To make ends meet, I went from Jem the Caravan Girl to Jem the Caravan Girl Who-Would-Take-You-Into-Her-Bed-For-Credits. It hadn’t been terrible, not really; virtually all the troupe's women had dallied in the profession at some point or another, and thankfully there was very little stigma attached to it. But it hadn’t exactly been my first choice, either. Then, of course, I lost Bekka, went into piloting, did more with myself and my life than I’d ever thought possible; I'd explored, I'd traded, I'd killed...
By Gaia’s mercy, what’s happening to me? I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the present.
I felt like I was turning into some sort of Star Gypsy, with no idea of where I was going. I'd learned that I was capable of doing things I never thought I could, but there was still so much more to learn. I somehow sensed that I was on the verge of making a discovery about who I was and what I was becoming. Whether it'll be a change for the better or for the worse remains to be seen, but it will happen. Everyone changes, sooner or later.
Change. Like betrayal, it's inevitable.
*****
I woke with a start, my muscles stiff from the thin mattress. My body felt like it had been clubbed. Shivering, I looked around the room. The lights had turned themselves on, and the same dull metal bulkheads surrounded me. My dress was next to the tiny wardrobe, lying in a heap and reminding me that last night did, in fact, happen. I leaned forward and buried my head in my hands. What would I be doing now if I’d stayed with Matt? I took a deep breath.
"You’d be feeling even worse," I told myself, "but at least you’d be feeling it in a nice warm ship with friendly company."
My hand drifted to my throat, one finger resting tentatively on the hateful bulge of the explosive choker. The sooner it came off, the sooner I could get out of Pegasi and back into the arms of the man I truly loved. Before that could happen, however, I would need to do more work for Black Omega. My rep with the faction was rising steadily, but still fell short of the Allied status which Marty Aston had insisted upon. And Aston had made it abundantly clear that he required results.
I'd learned a lot about bounty hunting from Matt, but it had been a true baptism of fire. I highly doubted whether I was capable enough to venture out on my own. A quick check of the starport mission board showed nothing which would be deemed worthy in the eyes of Marty Aston, so I was left with no alternative but to fall back on delivery jobs.
One of these required me to take data to Ts'in Gu. On arrival in the system I was interdicted by a Cobra III registered to the Silver Family, one of Black Omega's fiercest rivals. I won the short battle against the Mostly Harmless rated pilot fairly easily, gaining an added bonus of two dropped cargo canisters. A scan revealed they contained liquor, and the fact they were illegal salvage would surely go some way towards appeasing my handler. Scooping them up, I headed for Nelson Port and docked under silent running. There I sold the liquor on the black market, feeling a little pleased with myself. I didn't make much profit from the deal, but at least I had done something unlawful.
Even so, it still probably wouldn't satisfy Aston. I needed to do something really impressive, something that would demand the admiration of both him and his superior, whoever they might be. I needed a spot of good luck.
Returning to HIP 106072 with a hold full of wine, I docked at Smith Port, powered down and went to the bar for a well-deserved drink. I half hoped I might bump into Matt again, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Forget him, Jemine," I told myself, bitterly. "You're likely nothing more than just another notch on his bedpost."
The holovisions were still full of Black Omega propaganda, but I took scant notice of it. My attention was instead attracted by a conversation between two men nearby.
"It's a simple salvage job," said one, a portly man with beads of sweat on his furrowed brow. "All you have to do is find the ship and download the datacore."
"And what's on this datacore?" asked the other, a younger man with a thick neck and a bored expression on his face.
"Well," replied Sweathead, "I can't say. It's pretty sensitive stuff."
"How sensitive?" asked Thickneck. "Hey man, you can't expect me to go all that way to pick up something without knowing what it is."
"Sorry," said Sweathead. "But I'll make it worth your while, trust me."
"No deal, pal. Thanks for the drink, though."
Thickneck plonked his empty glass on the bar counter and left. Sweathead sighed, and turned to look quizzically at me.
"I don't suppose you're interested in a simple salvage job?"
"I might be," I replied. "Who's paying?"
"The Silver Family. There's some data we'd like back, urgently. All our own pilots are tied up dealing with Black Omega, so..."
"So you're shopping around for freelancers. I suppose there's no point in my asking what the data is?"
"None. But it is pretty important."
Perhaps this was the spot of good luck I needed. Any data important to the Silvers would surely be useful to Black Omega. Aston would have something of value to give his superiors, and my departure from Pegasi would be one huge step closer.
"All right," I said, after a suitable pause for effect. "I'm your girl. Give me the details and I'll be on my way."
The "details" were simple enough, consisting of a set of coordinates on the second planet in the Athena system, some two hundred light years away. My task was to locate the crash site, collect the data core, and return it to the Silvers within three days. After that time, according to Sweathead, the data would be useless.
Since time was of the essence I decided to set off immediately. My progress towards Athena was impeded by three interdictions, all by Novice-rated pilots. I won all three battles convincingly, sustaining no damage at all to The Last Thing. Unfortunately, because the attacks had all occurred in anarchy systems, I gained nothing from them but experience.
I arrived at Athena midway through the three day window, and headed straight for the second planet to begin my search. As I approached, my comms beeped an incoming hail.
"Hello, commander! You looking for the crashed ship?"
Checking my sensors, I found that the hail had come from an Asp Scout piloted by a commander Collins.
"Maybe," I replied. "And maybe not. You?"
Collins sniggered. "Same here. See you on the planet... maybe!"
So, it seemed I had competition in my search. My heart sank. How many more pilots might be looking for the same crash site?
Descending to the planet, I closed in on the coordinates I have been given. After two hours of looking I had found precisely nothing. Rising to a higher altitude, I double checked the coordinates and made a complete circumnavigation of the planet. There was no sign of a crashed ship anywhere.
Following a few more hours of fruitless searching, I decided to take a break and resume the next day. All the concentration had left me exhausted, and the bed on Valdez Orbital was extremely welcome.
I woke the next day to find a k-cast recorded message on my dataslate. It was from Marty Aston, and he didn't sound at all happy with me.
"What the fuck d'yer think yer doin' sweet'eart? I need you 'ere, not fartin' about on wild fuckin' goose chases two hundred light years away! Now, get yer tush to my place on Clair Dock, quick sharp! Unit 73, Clear Springs Suites. Do it!"
Shaking with rage and indignation, I pulled on my flight suit and dashed down to The Last Thing. Leaving Valdez Orbital I made one last, desperate pass over Athena 2, but the crash site remained an obstinate mystery to me. I had wasted two days and incurred the wrath of my handler. There was nothing else for it but to return to Tjakiri and take a blasting.
*****
Clear Springs Suites turned out to be Clair Dock's slum area, right next door to the Sanitation plant. Its half-lit corridors reeked of various odours, and its dirty grey bulkheads were liberally daubed with graffiti. I hadn't expected Aston to live in such a disgusting place, but neither was I entirely surprised.
I found unit 73 and, in the absence of anything resembling an intercom, knocked on the door. Aston answered a few minutes later, and unceremoniously ushered me inside.
"You've got some explaining to do, sweet'eart," he growled. "Imagine my surprise when, checking up on the whereabouts of my number one minion, I discover that she's buggerin' about halfway across the bleedin' bubble. What the fuck was you up to?"
"I was looking for a crashed ship," I explained. "There was a data core belonging to the Silver Family, and I was going to bring it back to you. I thought it would be useful to Black Omega."
"I see. So, where is it?"
"I couldn't find it."
"Not surprised, sweet'eart. There'll 'ave been pilots swarmin' all over that planet. By the time you got there, any datacores'll've been long gone. You ain't exactly come out of this smellin' o' roses."
"I was trying to help!" I objected.
"You can 'elp by doin' what I tell yer!" Aston roared. "I need you 'ere, doing somethin' useful. You do remember our little arrangement, don'tcher? Or would you rather keep that choker on for a bit longer?"
"No," I replied, afraid. "Of course not. I'm sorry. I'll toe the line, I promise."
"Yeah? Doin' what? More cargo runs? Data deliveries?" Aston's temper was rising. "I've already told yer, sweet'eart, you can do the same old same old for ten lifetimes and still not get in with Black Omega. And if you ain't gettin' in, I ain't gettin' in. Comprendy?"
"But what about those vouchers?" I said, my voice rising in panic. "I thought you said that they would count for a lot more!"
"Oh, they do," replied Aston, pacing the floor so that I had to keep turning to face him. "But they're only a start. HIP'072 is yesterday's news, and my employer is a right terror when it comes to current events. You want to impress? Get that tight little arse of yours on the front line in 8210 and make something 'appen. You must have' eard about the call for freelancers by now, right?"
I didn't like the sound of this. "Well, yes. But--"
"But what, sweet'eart? What's that ship of yours armed with, anyway, 'arsh language?"
"Don't be such a tosser! You know that I can fight. It's just..."
"Just what? Go on. I'm waiting. Illuminate me."
"It's just that I'm not a merc," I sighed, hopelessly. "This isn't my sort of work. Can't I just run ammo or something?"
"If you were flying a fat-arsed T-9 instead of that retired paddy wagon, I'd say sure. Lord God knows they need it after yesterday. But you ain't, are yer? So fightin' it is."
"All I'm saying is that--"
"You know what? I'm starting to think you need a little extra motivation. Remember when you asked what Exotica meant?"
"Yes," I replied, taken aback. "So?"
"So it's time for a little field trip. NOW!"
With one sudden move, Aston bounded across to me and seized my right arm. His vice-like grip made me cry out in pain. Seconds later he was dragging me out of the apartment and along the corridor towards the lift.
"That's the problem with some people," he went on, punching the lift call-button. "Don't know 'ow good they 'ave it."
I shot Aston a venomous scowl. "I had it just fine until I got mixed up with that ratbag, Elian Thiessen!"
The lift doors screeched open, and Aston pushed me inside. "Well, you're gonna get to see how fine you 'ave it now. Eyes open, sweet'eart, it's dark where we're going."
Aston pressed a button for one of the upper levels of the starport, and the doors squeaked shut.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Cor blimey, ain't you been listenin'? I'm gonna show yer the answer t'yer question."
The lift juddered into life, its dim lighting flickering as if struggling to cope with the strain. When the doors opened again, we stepped out into one of the more populous areas of Claire Dock.
"Right," said Aston. "Just stay with me an' don't try anythin' stupid."
He led me through the starport's entertainment district, a gaudy labyrinth of bars, tattoo parlours and amusement arcades. People thronged every walkway, their faces glowing bizarrely under the constantly shifting coloured neon lights.
"Right, we're 'ere," announced Aston as we came to a halt. We were standing before a garishly-lit pair of plush, leather-covered doors, above which was a sign in large red letters: EXOTICA.
"A club?" I asked, puzzled.
"Not just any club," Aston replied. "Come on."
A line of people stood waiting to get in. Aston led me past them and marched straight up to the door, only to be stopped by a bald, burly man in a black coat and a dark green eye visor. Aston went on the offensive immediately.
"Come on, mate!" he yelled, waving his arms. "Stop muckin' about an' let's in. I'll be late fer me meetin'."
The big bouncer cocked his head to one side. "Who are you here to see?"
"Well now, I could tell you," replied Aston. "But it ain't really any of yours, now is it?"
"No name, no entry," said the bouncer, stonily.
"Suit yerself," said Aston. "But when your boss finds out it was you what wouldn't let me in to see her, I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes. Cos when she does find out, chances are you won't 'ave any feet to put in 'em. Comprendy?"
This threat seemed to be enough for the bouncer, who reluctantly opened the door to the VIP entrance. Loud, raucous music at once burst out. Aston stepped forward, and I followed, but my way was instantly blocked by the bouncer.
"It's OK," Aston smirked. "She's with me. New act. Starts tonight. Lovely little mover, if you know what I mean."
The bouncer gave me a quick glance, then nodded and stood back. Nervously, I walked past him and through the door.
A narrow entrance hallway widened into a large room, its every feature bathed in a dim red glow. In the centre of the room was a raised platform, from which a pair of silver dance-poles ascended to the ceiling. One of the poles was occupied by a near-naked young woman, chained to her station by means of a metal collar around her neck. Admiring patrons sat in leather chairs on all sides of the platform, while scantily-clad waiting staff bustled about serving drinks. They, like the pole dancer, also wore slave collars. Scattered about the room were still more collared employees, agonisingly positioned as chairs, tables or living ornaments to be sat on, leaned against or touched as required.
I looked around with mounting horror. I'd never seen anywhere quite like it. Galore's, the club at Bhritzameno to which Bron and Myffy had taken me, had certainly had its share of leather- and rubber- wearing clientele, but nothing as extreme as Exotica.
"You like it?" shouted Aston above the blare of the music.
"I don't understand," I yelled back. "The message I took to John Graham..."
"You're as thick as pigshit, you are," Aston smirked. He steered me to an alcove, from where we could see the entire room in all its decadent glory. A scared-looking waitress came to take an order for drinks, then dashed to the bar.
"She's new 'ere," explained Aston. "Used to be a pilot, 'til she made a silly mistake. Cherisch Cheerful, 'er name is. She ain't so cheerful now."
Cherisch Cheerful was the name of one of the Black Omega pilots who had interdicted me. I had persuaded her to let me go. "It was either this or go to university," she had said to me at the time. Was it my fault the poor girl had ended up here, a near-naked waitress in chains? I felt sick.
Aston took a long swig from his drink, then turned to me. "John Graham came 'ere, sweetheart. He'd 'eard on the grapevine that Black Omega was in the market for weapons. So, bein' a savvy businessman, he come to Tjakiri to negotiate a deal. All on the 'ush 'ush, of course. Him being so well in with the Feds, if they ever found out he was dealing with pirates, well, it would ruin him and his squeaky clean image. His big mistake was comin' in 'ere. He got 'imself into a, shall we say, compromising position, all of which got caught on holocam... "
"Blackmail," I said, the credit finally dropping. "John Graham was blackmailed into signing over those weapons factories, wasn't he? And the message I took to him was his signal to complete the deal."
"Now yer gettin' it!" beamed Aston. "Which brings us back to you, my dear."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing you don't already know, but I'll spell it out for you. You and me, we got a deal going, ain't we? Work for me as a pilot, and sooner or later I'll let you go. But you need to get results first. And if you don't get 'em, you'll end up in 'ere, like young Cherisch. And believe you me, once you're in Exotica there ain't no getting out!"
"But I've tried my best!" I wailed.
"Not good enough! There's only one sure way to impress Black Omega, and that's by fighting for them. There's a war going on in HR8210, so that's where you're going, tomorrow." Aston gestured around the scarlet cavern of Exotica. "Or would you rather stay here the rest of your life?"
I shook my head in resignation. "I'll fight."
"Good girl." Aston finished his drink, then grabbed my arm and stood, pulling me with him. "Come on, let's get out of here. This place don't half give me the willies."
I was glad to get out of Exotica's stifling atmosphere. In the comparative cool of the corridor beyond the club's plush leather doors, Aston lit up a foul smelling cigarette and blew smoke into my face.
"Drop it, Aston," I said, folding my arms in a desperate show of bravado. "There's no need to go on intimidating me. I've told you I'll fight in your battle."
Grinning, Aston leaned in towards me. "Very good, little girl," he said. "Keep that sort of attitude up, and maybe you could go far in Black Omega."
"Maybe I could," I nodded. "In which case I'll be needing a minion of my own. I'll keep you in mind for the job, Aston. You can count on that... sweet'eart!"
I turned and quickly walked away before Aston could respond. If he did say anything, it was lost in the hubbub of the entertainment district.
I went back to the apartment I had taken on Clair Dock, and settled down to sleep as best I could. The next day I pulled on my flight suit and took the rapid transit to the docks. A short time later I was guiding The Last Thing clear of the starport and into witchspace on course for HR8210.
*****
I had never dropped down into a combat zone before, and wasn't about to do so now without some sort of preparation first. After docking at Hyecho Port, I had little difficulty in identifying a couple of freelancers who had come to support Black Omega.
"We're heading out in a couple of hours," said one, a blond haired young man by the name of Oakley. "You wanna join us, lil' lady?"
"Sure," I replied. "Why not?" May as well get it over with, I thought to myself.
"My name's Lawson," said Oakley's partner, an older man with flame-red hair and freckles. "Oakley and me, we fly Cobra Threes. How 'bout you?"
"A Viper Mark Four," I replied. "And my name's Jemine Caesar."
"Swell lil' ship," remarked Lawson. "OK, see you out there, Jemine Caesar. I'll send you a wing request at 13.00GST. Don't be late, now!"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," I responded, ruefully.
When the appointed hour arrived, I powered up The Last Thing and flew out to join the wing with Oakley and Lawson.
"Here we go!" shrieked Oakley as we dropped into the nearest combat zone. The sheer number of ships that suddenly popped up onto my sensors made me gasp. There were dozens of them, all with hardpoints deployed. Through my canopy I could see laserfire crisscrossing the blackness of space.
"I'm going in!" yelled Lawson, gleefully throwing his Cobra straight towards an enemy Anaconda, lasers blazing.
"Lawson!" I called out. "You idiot! You don't stand a chance against that ship! Disengage, now!"
But my warning was already too late. The Anaconda bore down with her plasma accelerators, tearing through Lawson's shields in seconds. Lawson's battle had ended almost as soon as it had begun.
The battle raged on, wild and violent. Ships were being destroyed all around me, and I was shocked to realise, on checking my sensors, that most of the casualties belonged to Black Omega.
We were losing. Spectacularly so.
I hailed Oakley over my comms. "This isn't going well, is it?"
"You got that right," came the reply. "But hey, we're here to fight, yeah? Just keep on shooting, lil' lady! We'll be— uh! Oh, shit! SHIT!"
Oakley's comms signal went silent and, moments later, his wing icon vanished from my HUD. To my right I could see his Cobra erupt into a brief ball of flame, a Fer-de-Lance arcing away from it in triumph.
So far I'd not fired a single shot, and it seemed unwise to start now. Withdrawing to the edge of the combat zone as fast as I could, I watched helplessly as the Black Omega fleet was systematically decimated.
"Sod this," I said, engaging my FSD just as a Vulture swooped in towards me. I set course for a return to Hyecho Port. As soon as I landed on pad 16 I burst out crying.
"Dear Lady Gaia," I whimpered. "What do I do now?" Visions of spending the rest of my life as a chair in Exotica flashed through my mind.
"There's only one way to impress Black Omega," Aston had said, "and that's to fight for 'em."
And I couldn't.
"Oh, Sam!" I wailed. "I've lost! I'm never getting out of here."
I remained sitting in the cockpit of The Last Thing, sobbing uncontrollably until, finally, I succumbed to a deep and fitful sleep.
*****
"Attention, Juliet Echo Mike! This is Hyecho Port Control. Please vacate your pad immediately. We have multiple ships incoming and require all available facilities to accommodate them."
I had slept for just over four hours when the call came over my comms. While The Last Thing powered up I checked the local newsfeeds. Black Omega had suffered massive losses in the various battles all over the system, and were in a state of retreat.
Easing up from the pad, I flew to the starport access corridor and narrowly avoided being smashed aside by an incoming Anaconda. The ship, which was allied to Black Omega, had clearly been heavily damaged. My sensors showed that most of her systems were barely functional.
"If that's how you ended up," I said, watching the scarred pock-marked vessel limping her way into port, "then what chance would I have stood?"
Black Omega needed a miracle to come back from this defeat. But they certainly didn't need me. Setting course for Tjakiri, I decided to beg Aston for one last chance at working for him in a way that wouldn't get me killed.
On my approach to Clair Dock, I called Aston to request a meeting, fully expecting another lambasting for fleeing the HR8210 battle zone.
"Jemine!" came the response. "I was wondering when you'd get in touch."
"I need to speak with you, Aston," I said hesitantly. "Would it be all right for me to come and see you?"
"By all means, sweet'eart, by all means!" Aston sounded uncharacteristically jovial, and I suspected he'd been drinking or taking drugs. "As a matter of fact there's something I wanna talk to you about, an' all. Great minds think alike, eh? See you later, alligator!"
"Umm, yes," I replied, nonplussed. "What time do you want me there?"
"As soon as you like, sweet'eart. No time like the present, eh?"
Once docked, I changed out of my flightsuit and into a red T-shirt, brown cargo pants, black leather jacket and chunky-heeled boots. I dreaded the coming meeting with Aston, but it was too late to back out now. I had to throw myself at his mercy if I was to stand any chance of ever leaving Pegasi alive.
The squealing lift took me down to the grimy corridors of Clear Springs Suites. Arriving at number 73, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Moments later it was opened by a smiling Marty Aston.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't me favourite minion, Jemine Caesar!" he enthused. "Come in, sweet'eart! Make yerself at 'ome! Drink?"
"No, thank you," I said. "Aston, I just want— "
"Oh, I'm sure you do, Jemine," he said, a little more menacingly. "I'm sure there's a lot of things you just want. Bit more to you than meets the eye, ain't there?"
"I don't know what you—"
"Bullshit, sweet'eart! You know full well what you've done!"
"But that's what I've come to talk to you about!" I said. "What happened in HR8210—"
Bounding across the room, Aston gripped my shoulders and slammed me up against the bulkhead, pressing his body hard against mine.
"You've been a busy little bee, Jemine," he hissed. His breath smelled of stale tobacco as he looked me up and down.
"I... I was just..."
"Shut it!" he said. "You know what you did, and you must have known the consequences."
My breath caught in my throat as I waited for Aston to speak. He leaned further in to me, his mouth close to mine, his greasy hands still pinning my shoulders to the wall. Aston's lips parted, to reveal his crooked, yellowing teeth.
"You," he said, breathing heavily. "You... are free to go."
Suddenly Aston's rough hands released me. He stepped back and started to laugh. I watched, incredulous, as the man collapsed, guffawing, onto a filthy chair. He was actually crying with laughter, his sweaty hands gripping his sides. Presently Aston calmed down enough to speak, wiping away tears of joy from his cheeks.
"Sorry, 'bout that," he said. "Couldn't resist. You shoulda seen your boat race!" He got up to pour himself a drink. "I really didn't think you 'ad it in yer, Jemine. But you proved me wrong, an' no mistake. I was only expecting you to take a few pot shots over in HR8210. The real mercs were meant to do all the proper work. But what did you go an' do instead, sweet'eart?"
I had absolutely no idea what he was on about now, but I thought it wise to say nothing. Aston was obviously working round to some sort of explanation.
He took a sip of his drink, and regarded me coolly. "Not only did you dive into the thick of the action, but you also managed to take out the beatin' 'eart of the resistance 'imself! And you say you ain't no good in combat! You're priceless, you are!"
I blinked in astonishment. Where had Aston got this from?
"Oh," he went on, "I knew I was on to a good thing when I recruited you, sweet'eart. You've got somethin' about you that I saw straight away. It took a bit of doin' but I was always sure I'd be able to get the best out of yer!"
"Well, yes..." I said.
"You've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams, Jemine. You've 'elped me get meself noticed by the very top of the crop. See, I 'ad a message from Marrakech Morgan 'erself, asking if it was true that I 'ad you workin' for me. She even knew yer name! I told 'er yeah, you was indeed my minion, and then she says she's learned that you was the pilot who done what no one else could. Oh, yes, Jemine! My future with Black Omega is assured, thanks to you. Those were Marra's very words in fact; 'Mr Aston, your future is assured!' How 'bout that, eh?"
Basking in his good fortune, Aston looked totally different from the bully who had made my life a misery for the last several weeks.
"So," I said, uncertainly, "I can really go? You mean it?"
"Mean it? Of course I mean it! I'm a man of me word, sweet'eart. Unless you wanna stay on as me minion...?
"No, thank you," I replied. "Just take this thing off me, and I'll leave."
"Oh, yeah, the choker... The explosive choker, that only I can take off. Yeah... Listen, tell you what... take it off yerself!"
"What? You know I can't do that—"
"Go on! Just for shits an' giggles! See what 'appens! Take it off!"
"But..."
"For fuck's sake, it's just a choker! A little joke me an' Elian Thiessen dreamed up together, an' you fell for it 'ook line an' sinker! Go on, take it off."
"No," I gasped. "You're lying..."
Aston rose to his feet and came towards me. "If it was really rigged to blow, d'yer really think I'd be stood 'ere a cock's length away from yer?"
Fearfully, I reached up and released the dual maglocks that had held the choker in place for so long. Despite Aston's assurance, I still expected it to explode the moment it came off. But come off it did, and there was no explosion.
Aston howled with laughter again. "You're way too trusting, you know that? You trapped yourself in Pegasi, Jemine. You could've left anytime you wanted to."
"You bastard... I ought to kill you!" I ripped the choker apart, hurling the broken pieces of silver to the floor at Aston's feet. I made to slap Aston across the face, but he caught my wrist with one sweaty hand.
"You done real good, girlie," Aston said, grinning. "Don't go ruinin' it by threatenin' to bite the 'and what feeds yer! But do yerself a favour, sweet'eart; wise up to the 'verse. Stop bein' so trusting. Stop bein' someone who lets shit 'appen to 'em, and start bein' someone who makes shit 'appen. You'll be better off in the long run. Now then, piss off out of Pegasi an' get back to that boyfriend of yours."
Then Aston released my arm, and I shook my head in total disbelief. After all this time, after all I had gone through, I was finally being allowed to leave. It seemed unreal, and I half expected Aston to spring some sort of cruel twist that would tie me to him forever. But nothing came. Instead, Aston simply stood and walked to the door, opened it, and waved me out with a flourish. I stepped uneasily past him and into the murky corridor. Then the door slammed shut behind me. I was free of him at last.
I ran to the lift, and feverishly punched the call-button over and over again. The lift doors finally squealed open and I fell inside, barely able to stem tears of relief. Back in my apartment, I changed into my flight suit, hastily packed my luggage and dashed down to the docks.
Aboard The Last Thing, I powered up and left Clair Dock for the last time, plotting the return course to Bactrimpox. Memories of the last few weeks cascaded through my mind; the smuggling, the interdictions, the bounty hunt, the heat of battle, Exotica...
The night of passion with Matt Lehman, my only friend in Pegasi.
And my humiliation at the hands of Marty Aston. He was right about one thing, of course. I was too trusting. I recalled the advice he'd given me just before I had fled his apartment; "Stop being someone who lets shit happen to them, and start being someone who makes shit happen." He was right about that, too. Plenty of shit had happened to me in my life.
Perhaps it was time for that to change.
Engaging FSD, I pushed the throttle forward and gazed into the starry blackness of the void. Only one thought now occupied my mind as The Last Thing surged on into the swirling, howling nothingness of witchspace.
"I'm coming, Sam."
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Don't miss the next chapter of Matt Lehman's Return to Pegasi series, coming soon!
A huge thank you to Matt for his support and help in the writing of this log, and for his patience in giving me time to finish it!
Thank you also to Marra Morgan for her Pegasi hospitality, and for supplying background details of the infamous Exotica club.