Personal Log 140: 24 - 25 November, 3302
10 Feb 2017Jemine Caesar
There were several other 'hello' messages on the Pilot's Fed intro page, and I left a brief greeting for each one. Then, just as I was about to close the link, a further entry popped up from Kyla Emmerich:"Hey, thanks for all the warm welcomes! I suppose I ought to tell you a bit about myself. Basically I duck the law, smuggling little tidbits here and there into places where they shouldn't go. It's more interesting, and pays better than space trucking and taxi driving, am I right?"
Biting my lip, I shook my head in irritation. Not only was this woman a criminal, she was also apparently quite proud to flaunt the fact. Ordinarily I would have let it go and paid her no more attention, but I was still smarting from my recent interview with Elian Thiessen. Just being back in the same room with that man had stirred up anger and resentment within me. Now here was this woman, Kyla Emmerich, boasting to all and sundry about her own crooked lifestyle. I tapped in a response:
"If it wasn't for us traders and taxi drivers, you pirates would have nothing to do!"
I gave the 'send' key a satisfying thump, and closed the page. Then, more out of curiosity than anything else, I called up the starport's Mission Board to see what was on offer. There was the usual assortment of cargo deliveries and data runs from each of the various factions, but one job in particular stood out.
It appeared simple enough. Locate a ground installation in the Sekenks system, extract a datacore and bring it back in return for a payment of 35,000 credits. What made it interesting was that the client happened to be none other than Elite And Real.
As I re-read the job details, Marty Aston's words of advice yet again rang out inside my head: "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."
I smiled as the germ of a plan took root in my mind. "All right," I said to myself. "Time to start making shit happen." I pressed the button to accept the mission, and sat back to work out what to do next. I'd need to carry out a little research into the politics of Bactrimpox, so I called up the system database on my slate and began to read about the various factions.
Bactrimpox Industries was the system's top dog. A well-established and powerful corporation, with a commanding presence in the system and an absolutely massive influence rating. Elite And Real wasn't too much of a threat to them as yet, so they wouldn't be interested in anything I would have to offer.
At the opposite end of the scale was Bactrimpox Gold Society, firmly at the bottom of the system's pecking order with an almost negligible influence rating. It was an organisation built upon anarchy, possessing a disdain for any laws outside of its own attempts to govern its members' behaviour. The bubble was full of such organisations but, fortunately for me, this one existed in Bactrimpox. It would suit my purpose perfectly.
As I pondered the next step, my dataslate beeped an incoming message alert. The message was a notification from the Pilots Fed social media site, directing me to a new post on the Introductions page. It was a personal response from Kyla Emmerich:
"I never said trucking was a bad profession, just an wholly uninteresting one. Besides, if it weren't for people like me keeping you on your toes, you'd go insane with mind numbing boredom."
Her comments vexed me, yet I found myself in two minds as to how I felt. Whilst it was true that trading had somehow lost much of its attraction for me since my return from Pegasi, the profession had formed a large part of my life as a spacer. To have it belittled by some sarcastic smuggler was insulting, to say the least. I tapped the reply button on my dataslate:
"Uninteresting? What could possibly be more interesting than comparing prices of biowaste and coffee, calculating the best profit margin for fruit and vegetables, and giving your grateful passengers a smile and a cheery wave as they disembark at their destination?"
Reading back over my own response, I was uncomfortably aware that it, too, contained an element of sarcasm against the profession I sought to defend. I began to wonder if my outlook on life had already shifted even more than I'd realised. I was snapped out of my troubled reverie by another of Kyla's caustic comments:
"We aren't all stuck-up poncey twats who rave on about honour and flaunt our wealth."
This horrible woman needed taking down a peg or two. I hammered back a reply:
"At least my wealth, such as it is, has been gained honestly. I don't know how people like you can sleep at night, knowing you've ruined some poor innocent trader's livelihood."
The woman must have been sitting with a link to the site permanently open, because her reply appeared mere seconds later:
"I sleep the same way as everyone else. I close my eyes and count sheep. My earnings are honest; I did a bit of smuggling, honest! (That sounded more clever in my head.) And I may or may not be wanted in a couple of places for being caught with illegal things... But you'll have to find me first. Good luck with that!"
She was openly taunting me. I chose my next words very carefully:
"Miss Emmerich, the shallowness of your conscience is in perfect counterpoint to the depth of your arrogance. Challenge accepted."
I hit the send button and waited for her next response. It wasn't long in coming, and was more or less exactly what I'd expected:
"Oh, a challenge? Dearest Jem (may I call you Jem?), I look forward to your pursuit. I hope you like following a trail of wakes."
My fingers hovered over the screen of my dataslate as I formulated another reply, but then I shook my head and smiled. I had far more important things to do than engage in a pointless spat with this ridiculous woman. I closed the Pilots Fed link and made myself a cup of coffee, then settled down to plan my next move.
*****
The office of Jairo Casals was very much like its owner; small, smelly and untidy. In many ways it reminded me of Marty Aston's shabby apartment on Clair Dock. However, whereas Aston had been but a lowly employee of Black Omega with delusions of grandeur, Casals was in an altogether more influential position.
"Senorita Caesar," he said, chomping on a foul-smelling cigar. "I'm told you want to work for Bactrimpox Gold Society."
I nodded. "That is quite correct. I'll come straight to the point, Mr Casals. I've been hired by Elite And Real to recover some information of importance to them. Now, suppose that information happened to find its way into your hands instead; would that be of any value to you?"
"It might," replied Casals, with a thoughtful smile. "Depends what the information is."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," I said, "because I don't know. But Elite And Real is prepared to pay me, ah, 60,000 credits for its safe recovery and return, so that must surely make it worth something."
"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Casals sat back in his chair and watched me in silence for a few moments. "Why do you suppose they do not simply go and retrieve this information themselves?"
"Because it isn't theirs to retrieve," I replied. "The information is contained within a planetary base in the Sekenks system. My task is to fly in, locate the base, upload the data and then get off the planet before anyone catches on to my presence."
"So you are aware that such an activity is illegal?"
"Mr Casals," I said, sighing in an attempt to feign irritation. "Mr Casals, if I stopped to consider whether an activity was legal or not, I'd never get anything done."
Casals grinned. "For the Thiessens to have given you a mission like this," he said, "you must have built up a solid reputation with them. Why should you want to throw that away?"
I shrugged. "My rep with them is very solid, mainly built through a string of cargo runs and data deliveries. However, recent events have led me to a desire to sever my ties with Elite And Real. It's a long story, and I really don't intend to go into the details."
"I see. So you have been supplied with the access codes for the datacore, wherever it is?"
"Of course."
"And the data you are so happy to steal... for all you know it may just be a grocery list."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mr Casals," I retorted. "No one would pay 60,000 credits for a grocery list! However, I take your point. If the data is worthless to Bactrimpox Gold Society, then you need pay me nothing for it. I can console myself by knowing that I would still have taken some small revenge against Elite And Real by giving it to you."
Casals chuckled and blew a cloud of fetid cigar smoke into the air. "You haven't done this sort of thing before, have you?" he asked.
"If you mean double-cross an employer," I replied, "then the answer is no, I've not. But rest assured that I have my reasons for doing so now."
"I am sure you do, but that is not really what I meant, senorita." Casals leaned forward again. "Your inexperience shines out like a beacon! What makes you think I would not kill you and then take the access codes?"
"You could do that, I suppose," I agreed. "But I'd rather you didn't."
Casals laughed. "I would rather I did not also," he said, "for it would be a tragic waste of a beautiful woman." There was another few moments of silence as Casals reached his decision. "Muy bien, senorita, we have a deal. Bring to me the data that is of such importance to Elite And Real. If it is useful to us, then I will pay you what they have offered, plus ten percent."
"Fifty percent," I countered.
"Ten percent," Casals repeated, pointedly. "My terms are generous, senorita Caesar, and you are in no position to bargain."
"Very well," I said, rising to my feet. "I agree to your terms. I'll make preparations to leave immediately. Thank you for your time, Mr Casals."
"One more thing," he said as he led me to the door. "When you do locate that planetary base, watch your step. Whoever the owners of the data are, they may catch on to your presence much sooner than you think."
I left Jairo Casals' office feeling somewhat pleased with the outcome of my visit, though I knew that my negotiating skills in such matters needed some working on. Casals had obviously seen straight through my naivety, and I knew it would be a long time before I could consider myself a criminal mastermind.
The thought made me stop in my tracks. Criminal mastermind? Is that seriously what I fancied myself turning into? Is that what "making shit happen" had to mean? No, the very idea was laughable.
Back in my apartment, I tapped a take-off request into my dataslate and then called up the Pilots Fed social media intros page. There was a message from someone drawing attention to some "secretive cabal" of which they were a member. This cabal had apparently "decided to take a more overt presence on the galactic stage".
The message had been replied to by none other than Kyle Emmerich, in her typical sarcastic style. "Not much of a secret now, is it?" she had said.
Irritation once more bubbled up within me, and I tapped out a response:
"Miss Emmerich, I should have thought the clue was in the phrase "more overt". It would appear that we can add impetuosity to your ever-growing list of traits."
The woman must have once again been sitting with her link open, for her reply came straightaway:
"Jem, Jem, Jem. You of all people should know that you need to think quickly on your feet. Sometimes I gloss over details. You kind of have to in my line of work, though I will admit it has come back to bite me a couple of times. Anything else you want to tell me about me, since you're so observant?"
Even as I was composing my reply, a further entry popped onto the screen. The catty exchange between Kyla and I had evidently begun to attract some attention, for the latest entry had come from another commander altogether:
"Dont play with Kyla.. if you are not ready enough to stand her!"
That really riled me. "What's this, Kyla?" I tapped. "Getting others to fight your battles now? I thought you were a woman who knew how to take care of herself."
Kyla's next reply was swift in coming: "I didn't ask anyone to step in on my behalf. This is between you and me."
"Finally," I shot back, "something upon which we agree. It's just a shame you seem to prefer skulking about in the shadows, instead of coming out to face me."
"Ooooh," responded Kyla. "Tough girl are you? You want to settle this dispute in person do you? Or perhaps you're jealous of my ability to stay hidden and move stuff right under the noses of the authorities?"
"Jealous?" I returned. "Of you? You flatter yourself. I'd ask you to name the system, if I had any confidence that you'd bother to show up."
Kyla's next reply was quite unexpected. "I'm flexible. Find us a nice little alley way on a Coriolis or something and we'll resolve this, face-to-face."
I grudgingly found myself giving the woman credit for making the offer, and realised I had no alternative but to accept.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I tapped. "Some shady little nook to go creeping about in. Let's make this a little more public, shall we? I'm presently at Bactrimpox, but I'll fly any reasonable distance to meet you halfway."
"That's very gracious of you, your ladyship," replied Kyla. "Luckily for you, I'm not too far away, so here's the deal. There's a system called Inara, which lies roughly halfway between our present locations. I'll come see you there, at Citi Gateway starport, tomorrow at 13:00 GST. And since you seem to like crowds, let's meet up in the Entertainment District. I'll recognise you by the saintly expression on your face."
I accessed Galmap and looked up Inara. It was well within reach at just over fifty light years from Bactrimpox. I tapped in my final response:
"Inara it is. Citi Gateway, Entertainment District. I'll be waiting, Miss Emmerich. Oh, and I would have said don't bring a friend. But I doubt that you have any."
*****
The next day, after readying The Last Thing for take-off, I prepared a brief k-cast recorded message to inform Sam that I'd managed to escape Pegasi space. "I've finally fulfilled my obligations to Black Omega," I told him. "I'm at Bactrimpox now, and it won't be long before I'm back with you, my darling. There's just one small task I need to take care of first, but I promise to be as quick as I can."
A pang of guilt shot through me as I tapped the send button on my dataslate. It had been over two weeks since I'd left Pegasi, but I had chosen to keep that fact from Sam. The reason was as straightforward as it was complicated; I needed closure from the events of the past few weeks. Elian Thiessen, with one simple act of deception, had made me feel a complete and utter fool. It was a feeling I was determined not to experience ever again.
As I guided The Last Thing out of Coney Enterprise, I pondered the two tasks that lay ahead of me. Reneging on the data recovery job may not ultimately do a lot of harm to Elite And Real, but it would give me some satisfaction knowing that I had struck back at Elian Thiessen in my own small way. First, however, there was the matter of my imminent encounter with Kyla Emmerich at Inara...
=============================================================================================================
OOC bit:
This log (and its forthcoming follow-up) uses material from a thread which ran in the Inara RP rooms during November 2016. A big thank you to Kyla Emmerich for supplying some memorable moments and for agreeing to their inclusion in this collaboration. Thank you also to Simon Datura for providing advice and some additional dialogue.