Personal Log 149: 9 January, 3303 (continued...)
26 Jun 2017Jemine Caesar
[Author's Note: This log entry is the third and final part of three collections of roleplay posts made on Inara during January 2017. It tells the story from Jemine's pov, therefore not all the dialogue and actions in the original posts have been repeated here.I must express my thanks for the permissions to use the following characters: Marcus Blake, Phisto, Isaiah Evanson, Cait Shaughnessy, Apollonia Purduto, Marra Morgan, Idris Gawr, Nicholas Locke, Stryker Aune, and Doctor Glaboski.]
9 January, 3303 (continued...)
As we strolled through the malls of the Entertainment District and away from the Ingabar, Stryker gave a gentle laugh.
"We are scum," he said. "Pirates, I mean. But even scum has a place and a purpose."
Presently we arrived at our destination; a Federal Drop Ship. Once aboard, Stryker guided me through to a small, well-kept common area. Posters of this and that were neatly arranged on the bulkheads. The kitchenette was small, with numerous containers of protein and other supplements tidily stocked in racks.
"Care for some water, or juice?" he asked, adding, "I don't carry alcohol." As he spoke the question, Stryker picked up what appeared to be a piece of unfinished embroidery from the coffee table, placing it carefully on an entertainment centre next to a well-loved teddy bear.
Kicking off my shoes with relief, I said, "Some water would be fine, thank you. After all the alcohol I've had today, I need to stay hydrated."
Stryker filled a large cup with water and handed it to me. "Tell me," he said. "Given your dislike of our type of people, were you pressed into prostitution?"
"No," I replied. "Not exactly. You remember I told you that mama and papa were travelling entertainers? It wasn't a glamorous life; far from it, in fact. It was a life of grinding poverty, and we did what we had to simply in order to survive. Those bio-med packs my papa sold? They were fakes, sold to the gullible by a common con-man."
I stepped over to the entertainment centre and, smiling, picked up the teddy bear.
"Papa did what he could," I went on, "but it was mama who brought in most of our money. When I was a little girl I thought it was from the dancing, but it wasn't. She made the vast majority of our money during the night, to the sound of panting and moaning and cursing..."
Holding the teddy bear close to my chest, I sat down in a comfortable chair and laid the water cup down on the table.
"I was already dancing for money, of course. Mama had taught me everything she knew, though I was nowhere near as good as she was. But I did my best, and gleefully picked up the few credits that people threw down. It was after I gave birth to Bekka that I began to bring in the real money every night. To the sound of panting and moaning and cursing..."
Shaking my head to banish the memory, I looked up at Stryker.
"After the first dozen or so, you stop caring. It's the only way you can keep going."
"Sounds like your mama did that to provide for you," said Stryker, "because she loved you." He paused for a moment. "I don't care what anyone says, but women don't go into prostitution because they want to. And it sounds like you did it for your daughter, to provide her a better life. Sometimes we have to do things we despise, and make do the best we can."
I raised an eyebrow at Stryker. The muscular man suddenly looked slightly embarrassed, as though he'd realised he might have said the wrong thing.
"So anyway," he went on quickly, "How did you get out of that gig? And what became of Bekka?"
I looked down at the teddy bear. "Bekka was born with a rare disease," I said. "Necrolysing Transuterophylomycaemia. NTUP for short. They developed a cure for it a year or so ago, but it came too late for my daughter. She died in 3300. She was only ten years old."
I was lost in my memories for a few moments, and then looked up see Stryker's kindly, attentive face.
"Not long after Bekka died," I went on, "I received a message from her father, Caz. He'd left me when I told him I was pregnant, you see. It was probably just as well he did, because papa would have killed him had he stayed. Anyway, Caz told me he'd made a comfortable living for himself on Earth, and said he wanted me to join him there. He arranged for me to be provided with a Sidewinder and a short course of basic lessons. Why he didn't simply pay for my passage on a liner, I'll never know. But that's how I became a spacer."
Stryker's chiselled features took on a sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "Truly I am. No parent should have to bury their children. I can't imagine the heartbreak..."
He let the words trail off, clearly not knowing how best to proceed. He leaned back into his chair again, looking directly into my eyes.
"OK," he said, "Caz provided you with a ship and a means to leave that life. Very generous. So, why aren't you on Earth with him? You are a very attractive woman. I'm sure he is very glad to have you."
Setting the teddy bear down on the couch, I picked up my cup of water and took a sip before continuing my story.
"I did get to Earth. It took a few months, what with having to earn the Sol System Permit first. I met up again with Caz in a city called New York. Such a strange place... Anyway, Caz was so happy to see me. He told me he'd done very well for himself on Earth, and took me for a ride out to sea in his skimmer, the Camilla. Then he asked me to marry him, and presented me with a beautiful engagement ring, very expensive..."
I fell silent, once more lost in my thoughts and memories, aware of Stryker's piercing blue eyes fixed attentively upon me. Then, unexpectedly, he crossed the deck and sat on the chair next to me, taking the cup from me and placing it back on the table. With the index talon of his cybernetic hand, he tilted my chin gently upwards. I stiffened, ever so slightly unnerved by the touch of the metallic finger on my skin.
"But you didn't go through with it." he said. "Why?"
"I didn't go through with it for one very simple reason," I explained. "Caz... died. While I was sunbathing on the deck, he decided to go for a swim. He didn't come back. The police said he'd most likely been taken by a shark. His body was discovered months later, by a subaquatic engineering survey team off the coast of somewhere called Massachusetts."
Shaking his head, Stryker withdrew the claw from my chin. "I've very sorry to hear that as well. So much loss, living the hard life to make ends meet. And so now you're out among the stars. Can I ask what it is you do?"
"Trading, mainly," I answered. "Though I'm not particularly good at it! I never did have a good head for business, you see. My very first trade run resulted in a loss, in fact. I've learned one or two things since then."
Stryker face broke into a smile. "I was never very good with buying and selling and all that margin stuff... I mean, I can balance my accounts and whatnot..." His voice trailed off into an awkward silence.
I glanced at Stryker's cybernetic arm, and shuddered involuntarily. "Is that painful?"
He looked down at his claw, his smile faltering. "You know when you're planet-side on a cold day, your bones or joints ache? It's like that. It's not terribly bad." He let out a chuckle. "But it does become worse the colder it gets. So what did you not-so-successfully trade in?"
"Cobalt," I replied, wincing with chagrin at the recollection. "I selected it more or less at random, and then couldn't find a market for it at any of the nearby systems. I was so disgusted with myself, I sold it at a loss. Sometime later I was given a bit of sound advice by an experienced trader. He told me to buy low and sell high. Quite obvious, really, but it was a detail that had escaped me until that point."
I studied the strong yet strangely soft face of the broad-shouldered man beside me, and wondered if he'd ever transported slaves. I decided, with a frown, that he probably had.
"I draw the line at trading in slaves," I told him. "I've bought and sold all sorts of things, but not slaves. Never slaves."
Stryker responded with a curt nod and a shrug. "Everyone has their limits. No doubt about that. Though, there can be good money involved if you're willing to sell yourself out."
"Oh, I've learned one or two things about the 'verse in the last couple of years," I said, with a wry smile. "And my recent experiences in Pegasi taught me quite a bit about myself, too."
I sighed softly and, relaxing back into the chair, looked at my surroundings. I'd never been inside a pirate ship before. Now that I was, it seemed no different to any other. And Stryker was evidently a tidy man, judging by the almost fastidiously stacked storage racks and total absence of real clutter.
"So," I said, "what is it you get up to in this pretty ship of yours?"
Stryker draped his human arm around me, clearly enjoying the intimacy of physical contact.
"Oh, the Broken Bow?" he replied, with a smile that betrayed his fondness for the vessel. "I found her derelict in a ship graveyard in Kou Zu. She was little more than twisted wreckage. I donno..." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "At first, I thought it looked ugly. Bulky...Non-functional..."
He looked down at his claw and flexed it, lost in a memory of his own.
"And," he went on, after a short pause, "I adopted it. Oh, there were ships in better condition, but I thought I would make a project out of this one. You know, fix her up, give her another crack at the whole space faring thing. I've put a lot of hours into her."
Smiling, he pointed towards the half finished embroidery on the coffee table. "The needlepoint has been quite therapeutic. Helped me learn to control this."
He flexed the cyber-claw again, and the smile vanished.
"I believe in second chances..." he whispered, with a sigh that spoke of a half-buried pain.
I gave an appreciative nod. "You must have put an awful lot of time, effort and money into restoring her," I said, "if she was as badly damaged as you say. And I can see that you're proud of her."
Leaning forward, I picked up the piece of needlework and examined it.
"This is very good," I said. I looked down to the cybernetic hand. "How did it happen?" I asked, adding, "If it's not an impolite question."
Stryker raised his claw with a faint mechanical whirring sound. "It was a choice," he explained. "Lose my arm, or lose my life."
His brow furrowed. This was obviously a painful memory for him. I waited in silence as he gathered his thoughts before speaking. When he did, his tone was bitter.
"It was caught under a bulkhead as a power plant was going critical. I had to....I had to remove it. But she got hers in the end... Anyway, there was a political debacle and they said it was my fault. So, as punishment, I was fitted with this thing." He shrugged. "I hated it at first. But, It's been growing on me. Maybe I'm getting use to it, or maybe....Maybe Deggie knew something I didn't. It doesn't matter..."
Stryker looked at me with a deep melancholy. This man had been through torture, and had borne it with an admirable stoicism. There was a natural gentleness about Stryker. A gentleness and a sadness he was fighting desperately to hide. My heart went out to him, and our eyes met in a moment of unspoken understanding and desire. Stryker leaned towards me, tentatively, searchingly, and kissed me.
Closing my eyes, I returned the kiss, at the same time releasing my hold on the needlework and letting it fall to the deck. With both hands now free, I entwined my fingers behind Stryker's neck and lay back onto the couch, pulling him down on top of me.
As our lips softly parted, I opened my eyes and looked up at Stryker.
"Who was she?" I asked. "You said, 'she got hers in the end...' What did you mean by that?"
He thought for a moment. "It's a bit of a story," he said. "When I was an engineer for the Imperial Navy, there was an accident that resulted in the death of one of my men. I was placed on suspended pay. Then an old friend showed up, an eccentric old bat. She pulled some strings to send me off on some cock and bull treasure hunt her late husband had set up for her. Anyway, our ship was commandeered by a pirate. Her name was Black Rose."
Once more Stryker paused, collecting his memories, all the time gazing into my eyes.
"Well," he went on, "she wasn't successful, and as we were escaping I, uh, applied the working end of a wrench to her head. I thought she was dead, but..." Stryker looked away for a moment. "I was wrong."
"Go on," I said.
"Some time later," he continued, "I was returning from a job when I was interdicted. It happened so fast. I remember seeing a ship, a bright light and then nothing. I awoke to a haze... She had found me, and was going to exact her revenge, but I managed to give her the slip. As I went about sabotaging her ship and sending out a distress call, she found me in the engine room..."
I waited.
"It's never a good idea to engage in a firefight around the power plant. Needless to say, things happened quickly. I remember seeing Black Rose go up in an inferno. I can still hear the scream. The emergency bulk head came down and my arm was trapped under it. The power plant was going critical. I had to make a choice. Her sword was right there, so I used it to... to remove my forearm."
I winced silently at the thought of the pain Stryker must have endured in cutting off his own arm. I reached out and brushed Stryker's cheek with my fingertips, giving him time to recompose himself before carrying on with his story. His haunted blue eyes met mine once again, as he spoke in a low, brooding voice.
"I don't remember much after that, except that I made it to an escape pod and was found alive sometime later. I owe Jubei my life."
My hand strayed down from Stryker's face to his cybernetic arm, my fingers tenderly stroking the area where flesh merged with metal, where human became artificial. I wondered why the prosthetic limb had been made to look so... ugly. That was the only word to describe it. Ugly. My boyfriend Sam had a cybernetic arm which was so realistic it was virtually indistinguishable from a human arm. Then I remembered that Stryker had mentioned that his own arm was a punishment. Something to do with a man named Deggie...
"You were very brave, Stryker," I said. "I'm not sure I could have ever summoned up the courage to do a thing like that, even to save my life." I took my hand from the arm and rested it on Stryker's well-muscled abdomen. "This Jubei fellow, I take it he was the one who scooped your escape pod?"
"Ya, he did. Which, of course, I'm grateful for."
"Naturally. Does he also work for Black Omega?"
"No, he doesn't. I don't know him too well, but he works for the Empire. Quiet bloke. But he seemed quite centered."
He shrugged his strong, broad shoulders, and I gazed once again into his sad blue eyes. I felt terribly sorry for this gentle giant of a man. He'd been through so much, and had chosen to bear his cruel punishment with a profound and intensely moving dignity. I wondered how long it'd been since Stryker had enjoyed female company; there had probably been plenty of dock-knockers, of course, but the affection they provide is merely an illusion, a sham solace. More like a business transaction, really, as I knew from experience.
"It's good to have friends," I whispered, instinctively seeking to offer my own comfort to this gentle, haunted man. Comfort without conditions. I took hold of the cybernetic hand and raised it slowly to my face. Meeting with no resistance, I brushed my lips softly against the cold, hard metal.
"It's good to have someone you can depend upon..."
I lifted my head and kissed him again, this time on the warm, soft skin of his throat. I could feel the telltale sign of Stryker's heart, beating faster.
"It's good to have company. Do you like having company, Stryker?"
I slid my body across his and gazed into his longing eyes, our lips almost touching.
"Well," I continued, my voice thick with meaning. "Do you...?"
Stryker gazed back. "Of course I do," he said, and then kissed me with abandoned inhibition. His large, calloused hand wandered over my back, pulling me in closer. Then, with a sudden and effortless motion, Stryker rose to his feet, easily lifting me with him. Smiling his gratitude, the powerful pirate carried me across the deck. A door slid open, and then closed behind us as we passed through into the quiet quarters beyond.