Norhaven
28 Sep 2016Nickolas Calhoun
Previous ChapterNorhaven
---Unknown Location---
With my stuff back and some chump warehouse worker stuffed in a locker, it was time for me to leave this damn warehouse and find a way back to Kremainn.
And a bar. I sure as hell could use something stiff after all this.
I strode cautiously through the warehouse toward the main entrance. Despite being the most obvious exit, the warehouse was large and the workers were scarce. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to make a break for it.
I was surprised at the lack of armed guards, but I guess they figured I was no threat down in the basement. I approached the front entrance, stepping outside. Turns out the warehouse was smack in the middle of an industrial district of a large, run-down looking city, but not a starport in sight, at least not within visual range. It was a cold, grey night, the city lights reflecting in the clouds while continuous sirens could be heard among the urban ambience.
The courtyard in front of me was littered with large shipping containers and a metal gate intersected a wire mesh fence, topped with razor wire that surrounded the complex. The only way out was through the main gate, monitored by another chump warehouse worker. Two trucks were parked opposite to the guard post by the gate. That’s my ticket out of here.
Footsteps approached behind me as I examined my surroundings.
“Who are you? I don’t think you’re supposed to be here!” A voice enquired.
I turned around. A warehouse worker stood before me with a radio in his hand. I raised my gun and pointed it at his head.
“I’ve already had this discussion with one of your buddies, and I don’t really feel like repeating it to you, so I’m going to make this simple. Drop that radio, and kick it over.”
The man became visibly panicked as he slowly placed the radio down on the ground and stood back up, raising his hands behind his head.
“You ain’t done yet, buddy. I said kick it over!” I commanded.
He complied, sliding the radio toward me. It came to a stop at my foot, and I quickly crushed the radio beneath my boot.
An alarm started to sound moments after crushing the radio.
Oh you have to be fucking kidding me.
“Get out of here, kid!” I yelled at the man. He made a dash for the warehouse, while gunshots sounded behind me. I sprinted for cover behind a large shipping container, clutching the handle of my pistol, trying to figure out my next move.
Well this is a right doozy.
“I know I saw him go this way! 100 credits says I get him!” A voice yelled from around the corner.
And there’s the armed guards.
I took a deep breath as his voice got closer, yelling out various obscenities. A guard appeared from around the corner, looking in all directions. He caught glimpse of me just in time for me to pull the trigger of my pistol, spraying blood from the back of his head all over the concrete pavement. He fell over in a lifeless heap and blood pooled from the new holes in his skull.
And now you owe me 100 credits.
“This way! I heard gunfire!”
More guards were running toward the now deceased team member of theirs, giving me a small window of opportunity to make a break for the trucks. While they observed the corpse of their dead buddy, I made a dash toward the trucks parked near the gate, ignoring the rattling of sub-machine gun fire, the ricochet of bullets against the concrete and metal and the yells of “over there!”
Inside the cab of the truck was cramped, with worn down fabric covering the seats and an antiquated looking dash with a card reader slot. I grabbed the key card from the kid I stuffed in the locker and inserted it into the slot. The dash glowed green as the systems roared into life and a low humming could be heard among the sound of bullets bouncing off the metal.
Just like a Type-7 Transporter, ‘cept it can’t fly.
I pushed my foot down on the accelerator pedal, causing the electric engine to groan and whir. Gunfire continued to rattle outside, cracking the windshield as the truck gained momentum. I turned toward the metal gate, slamming the pedal down as far as it would go, jerking the truck forward as guards darted out of the way. I gritted my teeth and scrunched my eyes closed while the truck gathered speed. The truck smashed through the metal gate, making a loud crash, causing me to lurch forward slightly. I retained control of the truck and the broken gate flew off to the side crashing into a nearby wall. I looked back toward the warehouse, smirking as I continued down the road toward the city.
Have fun explaining this to your boss, assholes.
I returned my attention back toward the road, and toward the city off in the distance, glowing against the night sky.
Now time to find a bar, and then figure out where in the goddamn ‘verse I am.
---Unknown City Streets---
I ditched the truck in some parking lot closer to the city center and continued on foot. The air was cold and the street lamps reflected off the damp roads. The streets were busy, people crowding the sidewalks in all manners of dress, from the working-class to the delinquent, while a small group of hookers tried to offer their services as I walked past a dark alley. The traffic flowed slowly along the road, with the horns of frustrated drivers blaring frequently. I was desperate for a drink, a hot meal and some direction off this god-forsaken rock.
Neon sign, half of the letters busted or flickering, dark and dank exterior, now that’s my kind of bar. The interior was dark and glum, the patrons were mostly alcoholics that spent most of their non-working day drinking the beer and gambling their earnings away on the pokie machines. The bartender- Now he stood out. Pink hair, skin-tight white shirt and a grin so cheesy you could sell it as nachos. He looked so out of place in the establishment, but his expression suggested he couldn’t be happier.
I must have had that outsider look, because as soon as I stepped inside, all eyes focussed on me, though that could have been the bruising on my face. I brushed it off as I strolled toward the bar.
“Always nice to see a new face in town,” the bartender remarked, with a rather flamboyant tone, “even if the face is a little beat up.”
I shrugged my shoulders, peering out the front door of the bar. “It’s been a rough day. Got any of that Old Sol in stock? Make it a double.” I took a look at the menu on the blackboard behind the bar. “I’ll also take a large one of them steaks.”
“It has been a rough day huh? He said as I handed him a credit chip. “Anything else with that?”
I paused for a moment, keeping my gaze toward the front door. I turned back toward the grinning bartender and leaned in.
“Yeah, actually, just one thing. Where the hell is this place?”
The pink haired man paused with a confused look on his face.
“You’re telling me you found your way to my bar, but you don’t even know where you are? How many knocks to the head did you take?”
I raised my eyebrow. “I wasn’t paying attention when I landed here.”
He grinned again, turning to put away some freshly cleaned glasses.
“Well, a lot of people I talk to call this place, Shithole- and they’re not wrong. To us who call this place home, we refer to it as Norhaven.”
I nodded, taking a large sip of my drink and swirling around the ice cubes. “Okay, and where abouts in the ‘verse is that?”
“That would be the sixth planet from the Qa’Wakana star.”
I finished off the glass of Old Sol, leaning in for one more question. “And do you know where I might find a pilot who could get me off this rock?”
The bartender shrugged as he took the empty glass from me. “Not many spacers come through these parts of town. Hell, I ain’t never left this rock myself. You might wanna try the starport on the outskirts of town.”
Great, the starport is miles away.
The cheery bartender prodded me on the shoulder. “Hey now, don’t look so glum! I get enough of that from the chumps in here. The transit system will take you right there, though the next cart ain’t ‘til sunrise I’m afraid.” He paused as a small bell dinged. “And that’ll be your steak.”
The whiff of the steak reached my nose, and my mouth begun to water. It had been days since I last ate anything that really resembled food. He placed it in front of me, handing over some cutlery.
My lips curled into a small grin. “Shit son, you have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this.”
The man winked. “That’s more like it. I think that grin change the atmosphere of the whole damn bar. Another drink to go with that?”
I nodded, “Yeah, another Old Sol. ‘Preciate it, buddy.”
As strange as the vibe of the bartender was, his demeanour was refreshing compared to the Bratva scumbags back at the warehouse, and it sure was nice to see a friendly face, even if I didn’t know the kid. The downside was that he kind of reminded me of Georgia in a way- a similar sass and chatty approach to newcomers. I tried to push that to the back of my mind, focusing on the plate in front of me. I sank my teeth into the first bite of the steak and…
Oh lord almighty!
The taste of real beef, so tender, just melting in my mouth. It was heaven, especially after the slop I occasionally got fed over the last few days.
“This is the real deal huh?” I queried.
The chap frowned, looking offended. “You kidding? We don’t settle for that synth crap here. This place may be a shithole, but we don’t skimp on the good stuff.”
I nodded, taking another mouthful of the juicy meat. “You ain’t kidding. Tell that chef of yours that I’ll be sending buddies over here some time for a feed.”
I finished the plate of food and downed the last of my drink. I chucked a bit of extra credits toward the cheery, pink haired bartender as a tip. He smiled and nodded.
“Well that’s mighty generous of you ain’t it.”
I nodded. “You’ve been quite helpful, buddy. There a hotel nearby?”
He pointed out the front door. “Straight across the road. Price ain’t too bad if you don’t mind small rooms.”
“Anything’s better than where I’ve been the last few days.”
His cheesy grin returned to his face. “Bye big guy. Don’t be a stranger now… Well, no more than you already are.”
I checked into the hotel across the road and checked into a small room. The decor was depressing and the wallpaper was peeling off in many places, and there was a grungy odor in the air.
Well, this ain’t no Fer-de-Lance, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted without even turning off the light and slowly closed my eyes as I drifted to sleep.