Chapter 3 - Barcelona
28 Nov 2022GoblinCoffeeShop
**Dear Reader, you are in the possession of a manuscript that has not yet been made public. For the purposes of RP and squadron lore, this story is secret and will not be known by your commander character. This story contains some mature language and content. Thank you, and enjoy.**Shortcut to Chapter 2
Chapter 3
"Barcelona"
Bean Terminal, orbiting Anekaliti 2
June 30th, 3304
(The following day)
Trevin sat up on the smelly sofa, rubbing his eyes. He checked the time. 7:41. Light strayed from the kitchen, and he could hear someone shuffling around. Probably Griffin getting ready for work.
Trevin tossed the blanket off and stretched. Yawning, he rose and poked his head into the kitchen. “Sup.”
Griffin looked up from the stove, prodding something in a pan. “Oh, hey Trevin. You’re up early.”
“Yeah.” Griffin looked like he had just rolled out of bed, with a slightly rumpled shirt and messy hair. But he always looked like that.
“Hey if you want to play my system while I’m at work, just go for it, alright?”
Trevin nodded. “Thanks man. Probably gonna go to the cafe. Get out for a bit.”
Griffin smiled “Your friends are a bit more rowdy than you, huh. Jeffrey is kinda like his brother that way.”
Trevin shook his head. “Yeah.” There was a pause as Trevin tried to get his brain to work. “When’s Jordan back again? Not for another month?”
“He’s on a cruise until…” his eyes went up, “I think it was like August 5th?”
“Right.” Another silence. “Well, thanks for being cool with us… y’know...”
“Yeah, no problem. I mean, the other two are always out partying anyway, but it’s nice to have some gaming buddies. Let me know if you wanna play something later, I’m off work around 5.”
“Sure thing. Have a good one, man.”
“You too.”
Trevin rummaged for his new Life Support insulated mug and headed out. Arriving at the cafe, he found Steve serving his “morning” clientele, chatting as usual, smiling without smiling. He saw Trevin in line as he grabbed a pastry from the bake case and gave a quick wink. It was a blue sweater this time, with a silver, swirly patterned tie. He swiftly worked the line, and Trevin soon approached the counter.
“Hey Space Goblin, where’re your friends?” Steve spoke with his usual confidence, but he seemed tired today.
“Asleep? Hungover?” Trevin shrugged. “Stupid?”
Steve laughed, “Yeah they are. Dark roast?”
Trevin nodded. “Someone was asking you about us?”
Steve took the travel mug and turned to the carafes. “Well. You come here every day, not hard to find.”
“Security knows you.”
“Mmhmm.”
“But they didn’t come back. So, did you cover for us?”
There was the slosh of coffee filling the mug and the clink of the carafe. Steve turned to hand the mug to Trevin, looking at him thoughtfully. “You’re not as dumb as your friends.”
“Why are you looking out for us?”
“What, don’t want me to?” He started washing a plate.
“No it's… I just.. ”
“Look, Bean Terminal has seen a lot of shit. You guys aren’t here for the fighting, for the war, you don’t care about factions and politics. In fact, you really have no reason to be here at all. This isn’t a tourist destination. You’ve got dive bars, assaults, protests, mothers trying to scrape by while the fathers are busy killing their neighbors out in the icy black.”
Steve's voice was coarser than usual, and the shift in his tone hushed Trevin. He looked down at his coffee. For a moment it was just the sounds of the station in the hallway, the clatter of a plate being stacked. Steve’s hands returned to rest on the countertop. Trevin looked up at his face. His eyes were mixed with frustration and care.
“You guys are young, and you’re innocent. People want to bitch about some kids having fun. I think we could use some fun around here. Even if it’s idiotic. Hang on a sec–Morning, Stella. The usual?”
Trevin stepped aside and waited for the customer to take her drink, then spoke up again. “You’re wrong that there’s no reason to be here,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“This station has the best fuckin’ coffee I’ve ever had.”
Steve gave him that hidden smile of his. “Thanks, Space Goblin. But it isn’t free.”
Embarrassment warmed Trevin’s face, but he smiled. “Shit, yeah, sorry.” He fished a credit pack from his pocket and handed it to Steve, who held it up to the terminal. Tearing off the receipt tape, Steve eyed the remaining balance. “Not many drinks left on this one.”
Trevin took the receipt, remembering how Max had covered their Apex fare for the trip. “You know, I gotta figure out how to make some money while I’m here.”
“Well. If you can keep your reputation clean, you might be able to do just that. Plenty of entry level work around this district. You know your coffee, ever work at a cafe?”
“I’ve never had a real job, honestly. Been busy with school and stuff.”
“We’re hiring if you want to apply.”
Trevin looked surprised. “Wait, for here? At Life Support?”
“Why not?”
Trevin fell quiet. Paranoia flitted through his mind… if the settlement was tracking him… and Steve was so well connected…
Steve’s eyebrows lowered. “It’s cool if you don’t want to. No pressure.”
“No it’s not that, I just…”
“Need somethin’ under the table?” Trevin said nothing. “Shot in the dark, but busy commanders might be willing to toss you a credit pack to do gruntwork.”
Trevin nodded. “Yeah. Thanks man.”
“Sooner than later, before your friends ruin your reputation.”
Trevin gave an empty laugh. “Fuck, I know.”
“Offer stands though. For a real job. Just saying.”
“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it. And thanks for looking out for us.”
“Yep. Don’t fuck it up.”
===
Trevin’s eyes caressed the figures of the ships in the self service hangar. Many of the spaces were occupied by no-frills working vessels. A gray Adder, looking like something out of his Earth history textbook, paint worn and smudged by exhaust residue. What might be a Type 6, given its elevated dumpling shape. Other ships were sexier. An Eagle, small, but with the potent posture of its namesake. Trevin wanted to fly one every time he saw them. He didn’t know much about actual eagles, but he always wished he could be like one of them.
It had something to do with the speed. As a kid, he loved to race around the settlement, pretending to be a pilot. He remembered the times he was let outside, charging up a staircase and hurling himself off the edge, eyes to the black sky, imagining himself launching from the landing pad. There was no “air” to fly through on the frozen Zhang Fei A3, but that meant he could see straight into the universe, dark and sparkling. The other thing he loved was soaring. He longed to go higher than before, to look down and see everything small below him. Something about it just made him feel calm, like everything was actually alright. If he was a pilot, he could go there whenever he wanted, and stay as long as he liked. Only a third of Earth’s gravity had been there to guide his small feet back to the slippery crust. Back down to reality, the inescapable pull of the settlement.
Those same feet, now grown, guided him to the larger ships of the hangar. He needed income if his retreat to The Bean was going to last, so he mustered the nerve to approach some commanders and see if they needed assistance. The more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure why someone would come to a self-service hangar if they wanted anyone’s help. But since he didn’t have documentation, he couldn’t think of too many other places to get legitimate work.
Following the sounds of rock music, he noticed a man moving some tall crates and canisters with a dolly. As Trevin got closer he started to make out the shape of the ship. It was a Python, like a massive silver arrowhead, a ship that seemed built to maximize space while still being operational at mid-sized facilities. In other words, it was long as hell, and Trevin was surprised at its size. He looked back to the commander. This man was older than the commander he met yesterday, and Trevin wondered just how much more was in the hold of that ship.
Doubt flashed through him, but he was determined to try. Taking a slow, deep breath, he approached the chains and called out to the commander. The man gently set down the canister and looked to the aisleway, pausing like he wondered if Trevin was the one who hailed him. Trevin raised a hand in greeting, and the commander nodded.
Trevin’s fingers rubbed nervously by his side as the commander approached. He guessed the man was around his father’s age, but almost everything else about him was different. He wore a plain grey tee, exposing starspotted arms. Light colored hair hovered over his arms in gentle wisps. He wasn’t a big man, but the way he carried himself suggested unexpected strength.
“Hello, sir, sorry to bother you, I just couldn’t help seeing you had a lot to do. I wanted to offer a hand, if you needed one.”
The commander stepped up to the chain and put out a hand. “Need one, no. But I’ll hear your offer.” He spoke with levity, chest rising and falling from the workout the crates had given him. He gave Trevin a firm handshake. “I’m Barcelona. What’s your name, bud?”
Self-consciousness was snagging him, but Trevin pushed through it. “You can call me Goblin, sir.”
“Heh, Goblin, huh?” The commander winced through a smile. “Alright. What kind of help are you offering, Goblin?”
“Oh, I…I can, well- I know a lot about ships. I mean, I can probably learn anything pretty quick. But if you just want help with the boxes, that’s fine too.” Barcelona listened with direct, kind eyes. “I just..” Trevin took a breath and the words tumbled out, “Honestly, sir, I just need to pay back one of my friends, and we’re from out of system. I only have a couple weeks, so, if there’s anything I can do for a few credits, I’m willing to help.”
Barcelona nodded. “Well, you care about your debts, that’s a start." He turned an arm towards the ship behind him, “Lots to unload. I had a leak in one of the canisters, so I’m emptying that hold to see what I’m in for and hopefully get her cleaned up. You don’t mind getting dirty?”
“That’s fine, sir.”
“Just call me Barcelona, okay? No problem. So, what’s your rate?”
“My rate? Oh, right. Um. I guess… thirty microcredits an hour?”
Barcelona held in a silent chuckle. “Goblin, you need to sell yourself higher than that. Unless you’re only worth thirty an hour, in which case I’m not sure I need your help.”
“Well..” Trevin didn’t know what the going rate for labor was. He had been so anxious about asking random commanders for work that he hadn’t given any thought to how much he should charge. Embarrassment seeped out of him, but he tried to keep a straight face. “You’re right, Barcelona. I’m new at this, obviously.”
“Hey, it’s okay. That’s how we learn. C’mon, let me show you what needs doing and we can work out a price together.” Barcelona waved Trevin over the chains and started to walk to the ship.
Trevin nodded and followed a few seconds later. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”
===
A few hours later, Barcelona raised the cargo ramp to Breath of the Lunar Sea, muffling the music playing from within. The two men sat on some crates beneath the ship, Trevin covered in gunk and sweat, pleasantly exhausted, grateful things worked out the way they did.
“You did good work, Goblin. Certainly made it go faster. Not the nicest job, I know.”
“Thanks, Barcelona.” Trevin didn’t mind working with the commander. Sure, the hold was disgusting, but between his stories from the shipping lanes and classic rock playlists, Barcelona had a way of making the time disappear. “You know, I didn’t really think anyone would want my help down here.”
“Well,” said Barcelona, opening a canteen, “opportunity is a funny thing. I have my reasons for using the self serve, but it’s not that I don’t like help. I just want to be sure the help helps. Not all hangar crews are equal, or competent.” He took a long drink. “The other thing is I like my ship.” He shrugged and looked up at the vessel. “This is my happy place.”
“Thanks for letting me help, anyway,” Trevin said.
“You bet. You mind if I pay you with a credit pack or?”
“That would be perfect, honestly.”
“Great, keep things simple. So this is for you.” Barcelona tossed Trevin a thick plastic card. “It should have 200 micro on it.”
Trevin’s eyes widened. “That’s more than you said.”
Barcelona gave a light smile. “Yeah. I get those from vendors and whatnot time to time. You’re right that most commanders here don’t need help though. Unfortunately, I don’t have steady work for you right now. But why don’t you ask Steve if he’s hiring?”
Trevin was surprised by the mention of Steve’s name. “Wait…how…”
“Your Life Support mug?”
“Ohhh right!” Trevin felt silly as he looked down at the logo, grey letters with the classic green zig-zag of an ECG. “So you know him, too?”
Barcelona smiled, “Of course I do.”
“That guy knows everybody.”
The commander nodded. “You know why?”
Trevin shook his head.
“Before Steve opened Life Support, he was a doctor. He was a general practitioner, but he could perform surgery too. Probably a genius if you ask me. And a good businessman, started his own clinic.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Absolutely the truth. That same Steve was my family’s doctor for, pshh, many years.”
Trevin looked bewildered and amused. “Huh…”
“Yeah. When the war picked up, he left his practice to work the ER, trauma and all that. Things kept getting worse around here and…” Barcelona paused. “He saved a lot of lives that shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place. And then one day, he opened the cafe. That was it. No more Doctor Steve.” Barcelona's eyes refocused with a smile. “No one had to tell us to buy his coffee. Steve was always the best at what he did. Nothing’s changed there.”
“That’s wild.”
“So, if he’s hiring, Goblin, tell him I put in a good word for you. You’ll learn a thing or two from Steve. A lot more than hanging out with an old guy like me.”
Trevin just nodded thoughtfully.
“You seem lighter than you did before.”
He met Barcelona’s gaze. Did the commander look pleased? Impressed?
“It feels good to do good work, doesn’t it?”
Trevin smiled at the man’s kind face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do feel pretty good. Could do with a shower, though.”
Barcelona rose and reached out a hand. “Goblin, until we meet again. You take care, buddy.”
===
Trevin went straight back to the cafe, chewing on the story that Barcelona had told him. Now it made sense why Steve knew so many of his customers by name, but opening a cafe… that still seemed kind of crazy. Steve did seem kind of crazy, though. Good crazy. There was a lull at the counter when he got there. “Hey, Steve. I wanna apply for the cafe job.”
Steve took one look at Trevin and laughed. “Even cleaned up for the occasion?”
Trevin looked down at his hoodie and shrugged. “You were right. I found work. Commander named Barcelona.”
“Ah you ran into him, did you? He’s a good man. What the hell did he make you do, though?”
“He had cargo trouble. It’s… kinda gross honestly.”
Steve punched a few things into his terminal as they talked. “Well. Now we know you’re a hard worker. So, I’m gonna need a name.”
“Goblin is fine.”
“No really.” Steve’s eyes reflected the glow of the terminal for a moment before meeting Trevin’s gaze.
“Yeah,” said Trevin. “Really.”
“Okay, see, this is for actual forms I have to fill out. Taxes, things like that? Gonna need ID too. Official documents.”
Trevin sighed. “I… don’t have any of that.”
Steve regarded him, one hand hanging over the top of the terminal, the other stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “You’re not supposed to be here, are ya, Goblin?”
Trevin was chewing the skin of his lip. “My parents really wouldn’t… I can’t let them know that, like,” he sighed, “I’m supposed to be on a senior trip right now, and I can’t get those documents without my parents realizing I am not where I said I was going to be. So…”
“Okay. Where are you staying right now?”
“Uh..my brother’s friends a.. I mean, my friend’s brother’s place. He’s on a cruise with his girlfriend for a few months and we’re just,” Trevin waved away the explanation, “it’s just temporary.”
“Gotcha. Well. Look, Goblin, I happen to know a few people who work at the administration. I can get you the job. And you can keep the name, but you’re gonna have to dress nicer than a Goblin to work here. Get some clothes and give me until Monday. We’ll start your training then. Okay?”
Trevin just stared at him, processing what he had said.
“Hey.” Steve raised his eyebrows, looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I’ll work it out.”
Trevin felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, welling up in his throat. “I… Well just. Thanks, Steve.”
Steve gave him a single nod. “6am Monday. Clean clothes.”
“Yes, yeah I’ll be there. Thanks again.”
===
Trevin waved his datawatch by the door to 306 and ducked out of the noisy hallway. There was light in the dining room, Jeffrey and Max were chatting at the table.
“Yo Trev, where you been man?” Jeffery asked.
Max eyed him, the bags in one hand, the hoodie rolled up in the other. “Clothes? You went clothes shopping?”
Trevin set the bags on the sofa “Yeah.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Max said, one palm raised.
“It’s for work.”
Jeffrey’s brow was furrowed. “Work? You got a job?”
“Yeah, I’m almost out of micro.” Trevin sat on the floor to pull off his shoes, staying off the sofa until he could clean up.
“Where you workin’?” Max asked.
“Cafe.”
Jeffrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Life support??”
Trevin nodded.
“Duuuude! Free coffee?”
“No.”
“C’mon, employee discounts? Get us the hookups.”
“No.”
Jeffrey sighed. “Fuck, what the hell.”
“Yeah, no. One other thing,” Trevin added, “I had to give Steve a name.”
Max turned to look Trevin in the eye. “Not a smart move.”
“It’s fine. I told him to call me Goblin.”
Jeffrey snorted, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, so that’s my name now.”
Max was running a thumb over his lower lip. “I mean. Honestly, we probably should have thought of aliases before we came here. Then maybe you would have had a better one.”
Trevin looked up in annoyance. “Dude, I got the job to pay you back, so...”
Jeffery made a face. “For what?”
Max swung his glare around at Jeffery. “The Apex? You owe me too.”
“Mannn fuuuck oooooffff,” Jeffrey said, rolling his eyes. “I got you this apartment. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“You have that entirely backwards, you grog-addled meathead…”
Trevin grabbed the clothes and headed to the laundry room, dodging the conversation. He loaded the machine, and with the press of a few buttons, it commenced with its dreadful grinding and squeaking. Trevin winced. At this point, they had all learned that the machine was almost entirely broken. So precisely “almost” that you’d hardly believe it worked at all. But it did, so long as you supervised it the entire time to supply whatever opening, closing, spinning, fiddling, slamming or whatever it required in order to continue its absurd operation.
A decent excuse to ignore the squabbling, he thought, taking a seat on the floor. He leaned on the wall and checked his watch. Almost three. It really had been a good day so far. He hadn’t expected Steve to… well, he wasn’t even sure exactly what Steve was going to do for him to get him the job. He was amazed someone would go out of their way for him like that.
Maybe it had more to do with connections than anything. Steve knew Barcelona, security, basically everyone, and that seemed to go a long way in a short time. Trevin thought again about Steve being a doctor. It made so much sense. He was so good with people, his mind was sharp. What could have made him just stop all of a sudden? Trevin remembered Steve’s face, lined with quiet anger as he talked about the faction disputes. He must have seen a lot...
“Hey, Trev.” Jeffrey’s face popped in the doorway. “We’re gonna head out, you want to meet us when you’re done with that?”
“Uh, I dunno.”
“Just goin’ to the cafe, man. Nothin’ crazy.”
“Oh. Well. Yeah lemme see how I’m feeling, I’ll let ya know.”
“Sounds good, Goblin.” Jeffrey smirked and disappeared, and the apartment door clunked shut.
Trevin stared at the rust-pocked surface of the laundry machine. He was lucky to have run into Barcelona today. He had never really known any commanders personally, and Barcelona just seemed… so much better than anything he had been told about them. Steve must trust the man, he was sure that’s why he skipped the interview.
It was strange. Connections had always felt somewhat threatening. Your misdeeds or mistakes would always follow the chain back home, there was no keeping secrets, always someone watching to make sure you stayed in line.
Here, everything was different. Here, people cared about what he cared about, and his connections drew him towards the things he wanted. The things he needed. Connections he didn’t even know were somehow getting his papers sorted to work at the cafe. He wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of help. But he was excited to get his first job. His first job!
He thought to share his excitement with his parents, but a second later the absurdity hit him. He thought about checking his unreads, and felt a tightening in his stomach. He took a deep breath and realized the laundry machine had gone silent, its light blinking red. He opened the door and slammed it shut again. Nothing. He poked the buttons at random until it clunked and wheezed back to life.
Well. He had a job. It was a good day. And he could pay Max back in a couple weeks.
He was free for now. And he was going to learn how to make some bangin’ coffee.
And with that thought, Goblin slid back down to the floor and smiled.
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