The Reaper Diaries: Fetch Job, Epilogue
23 Dec 2015Michael Wolfe
I sat alone at the bar, pleasantly dizzy from the Old Sol working its way through my system. Some twangy tune played lazily from the jukebox, and a game of holoball was silently playing on every screen in the place. I tilted my head back, finishing the last sips of the amber liquid that was the best part of my day. Raising my glass unsteadily, I signaled the barkeep for another few fingers to be poured in my glass.A hand slapped down on my shoulder, and a familiar presence sat down next to me. It was Rax, with his usual roguish smile, but also a hint of concern in his eye. He settled down on a bar stool next to mine.
“Rax.”
The bartender had seen him come in, and had already grabbed a beer for him.
“Commander.”
We sat silently for awhile, eyes on the screen where the holoball game was playing, not really paying attention. Eventually, Rax turned my way.
“I hear you’ve been making a name for yourself out in the extraction zones.”
I shrugged. “Lots of bad folks preying on lots of innocent miners. You know how it goes.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Rax nod in agreement. “Aye, but word is you’ve been spending a lot of time out there, even for a veteran bounty hunter.”
I took a sip of my drink. The liquid burned on its way down.
“Good money to be made reaping, as you know. Besides, Novitski is still too hot for me to go back to at the moment.”
Now it was Rax’s turn to shrug. “Never took to reaping myself, so I can’t rightly say that I do.”
He turned to me, an inquisitive look in his eye. “So how is that Diamondback treating you? Odd choice for a bounty hunter.”
Again, I shrugged. “It’s the scout variant. It does as well as my old Viper ever did.”
Another length of time passed as Rax and I just stared and drank. Eventually, Rax again turned to me, resting a hand on my shoulder.“What are you doing here, lad?”
Still watching the game I raised my eyebrows and took a drink. “Sitting in a bar, having a drink, and talking to you. The hell kind of question is that?”
Rax sighed, and took a drink. “No, lad. I don’t think you understood my question. What are you doing here? On Ackerman? With your life?”
I shook my head and looked down at my drink. “Rax, it sounds like you’re trying to say something without saying it, so why don’t you just spit it out?”
My friend set down his drink and crossed his arms. “The only dock knocker who’s left your ship for the past three weeks has been a pretty young thing with dark purple hair and a tight little arse. In all the years I've known you before that, I couldn’t pull you off of a redhead with an ample bosom and a well-padded posterior to save both our skins.That's a hell of a change, wouldn't you say?"
I shrugged and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Good to know you’ve been keeping track of that, bud.”
Rax took a drink and continued. “And you’re spending more and more time on the reap- more time than a man should, especially since we both know damn well you don’t exactly need the money.”
“I really wish you’d get to the damn point, Rax.”
He shook his head. “The point is that you ain’t your old self, and haven’t been since that Kyndi tart pulled her little disappearing act a month ago.”
He took another sip, and continued. “You need to move on, mate. From Ackerman, from Eravate, and above all from that damn woman.”
I shook my head. “Ain’t your station, Rax. You can’t just order me to leave.”
Rax screwed up his face in a look of disgust. “Who said anything about ‘orderin’? I’m concerned about you, mate!”
Looking over at Rax, I tried my best to smile. “Well, you got any more fetch jobs for them artifacts?” I laughed sloppily, the liquor slurring my speech. “Seemed to work out ok last time, right?”
Rax frowned and shook his head. “That’s another thing. Since word got out about that little heist, demand for artifacts has exploded. The market has moved on from those little trinkets you brought back.”
He took another gulp, and continued. “Now people are wanting these giant monstrosities the size of a damn cargo container. Glowing, squid-looking things, even more hazardous to carry- I won’t have anything to do with ‘em, no matter the profits.”
I smirked and shook my head. “Never thought I’d see the day when your scruples outweigh your love of credits.”
Now he looked indignant. “It ain’t scruples, Lehman. They wreak havoc with entire stations, on a scale that the little ones never did. Only a short-sighted pea-wit would allow them on board.”
He grabbed my shoulder and pointed at the holo-vision screen. The game was over, with a news break being broadcasted.
“You mark my words- the artifact trade is going to cause a heap of trouble for the outlying systems. It won’t be today, and it won’t be tomorrow, but the government and the media can only keep a lid on it for so long. Before too long, those damn things and the problems they bring are going to be all over GalNet!”
I shook my head again. “Well, news or not, it sounds like a giant heap of not my problem.”
He turned again to the news broadcast. “Yeah, but you know what is? This damn rut you’re stuck in. As much as I like seeing you around, I think we can both agree that it’s time for a change of scenery. I’m just sayin’ so because I care.”
He got up, and reached into his jacket pocket. “You want to help people? Check this out.”
Rax dropped a recruitment poster for Denton Patreus, some mucky-muck Imperial Senator who looked like he was born with a silver spoon in his ass. He was recruiting independent pilots for a campaign against the Kumo Crew, the murderous band of cut-throats who were tearing their way out of the Pegasi sector. The pay was good, and it was an opportunity to do something other than babysit miners.
I sighed. Rax was right. I was never going to get Kyndi out of my head, not if I just sat around Ackerman like some dope and kept taking the same poor purple-haired moaner into my bed every night.
So, I took his advice, and packed by bags to make the move to Eotienses, Denton’s headquarters. I signed on with his crew, and my ship received a free Imperial auxiliary paint job voucher. It would look good in white.
One month later, I was sitting in the pilot’s lounge on board one of those gigantic pointy capital ships, bullshitting with the other independent commanders who had signed on for a tour of duty in the Imperial Expeditionary Force that was being readied. A young Imperial crewman walked up to me. From his badge, I could see that he worked in the communications array.
“Commander M. Lehman?”
I looked over at him, standing rigidly at attention. That was me once. In uniform, not quite sure what I was doing there, but following orders just the same.
“That’s me.”
The kid extended his arm, a small holo disk in his hand. His voice cracked. “Message for you, sir. Just arrived.”
I looked down at it, and then back up to the pimply-faced kid. Jesus, was I like that when I wore the uniform?
“Thanks.”
The crewman saluted smartly, and walked off. Shrugging, I retired back to my private quarters and popped the disk into my holo-viewer. I poured myself some coffee, since ships getting ready for a tour of duty are typically dry. I glanced at the screen- and nearly dropped my mug.
<Incoming transmission>
Howdy, partner. Up for another job?
<end transmission>
