Echoes, Part 4
02 Jun 2017User4296
Davies High, Reorte SystemAlliance Space
3291
I snapped awake as the horn and cheers of the crowd echoed within my head, still lingering in that spot between being awake and asleep, where things both exist and don't exist at the same time.
It took me a moment before I realized where I was - the living room of the small apartment my father and I shared. It took one more moment to realize the now faint din of the crowd was coming from the bedroom. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over, allowing my gaze to focus on the clock on the end table.
0400. Shit.
I settled onto my back with a yawn and scanned the darkened ceiling, trying to remember how long I had been asleep.
Not long enough.
It's never long enough.
I swung my legs over the side of the couch and pulled myself into a sitting position, settling my bare feet into the brown plush carpet of the apartment, and glanced around the room. It was small but cozy, and a string of curtains separated the room into two halves - the dining area, small kitchenette and front door were on one side, and I was on the other, having taken the living room as a bedroom.
I stood and walked around the divider, making my way into the small hallway just off the kitchenette, and I paused at the door to the restroom. Across from me the door to my father's room was open, leaving his empty bed illuminated by the TV still playing the holoball match.
I shook my head and entered the restroom. The toilet lid opened at my approach, and I rested an arm against the wall as I did my business. I found my gaze continuously pulled toward my father's room.
How long as it been? I wondered. Two? Three days?
I shrugged, pulled my boxers back up, and stepped away from the toilet. It flushed as I moved away, and the toilet lid lowered on its own. A quick burst of hand sanitizer followed, and I re-entered the small hallway, passing through to the kitchenette beyond.
I heard the familiar swish of a keycard passing through a reader. A second later the door to the apartment slid open, accompanied by a low beep, and my father staggered into the room. The smell followed him in a shortly thereafter - as far as I could tell, he had hit nearly every bar on the station. Moreover, he had brought home a souvenir in the form of the small bottle he pulled to his lips. We regarded each other as the door slid closed.
"You drink away your share again?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"Shut up," he said. "Did a side job."
"Doing what?"
"Reaping."
I scoffed. "And got the Asp torn up in the process. Maybe you should have left the combat piloting to those who can do it - like Mom."
I ducked as the nearly empty bottle shattered on the wall next to where my head had been a moment ago. It didn't take my father long to move around the table and cross the small apartment, and he was at my throat a moment later, repeating the same dance that had only become more common in the past few years. I shoved him away, and his fist passed inches from my face as he fell backward onto the floor.
I had nearly jumped on him when a loud beep echoed throughout the apartment. We both glanced at the communication screen embedded in the wall.
"Answer," my father said from the floor. The screen flickered to life, showing the aged visage of Justus.
Time had not been kind to the man, but owning a salvage company probably wasn't easy. The fact that the salvage sometimes came from still active ships with living crews probably didn't help. The stress showed in his face, turning his once jovial twinkle into a sunken, hollow gaze.
"Bad time, lads?" Justus asked, squinting into the camera.
My father waved an arm. "Just showing the boy how to fight."
Bullshit, I thought. You'd have taken my head clean off if you could.
Justus laughed. "Lads will be lads. We've got a spot o' business. Some bastards in a Cobra that recently nicked a load of weapons that don't belong tae them. Our client wants them returned."
"Reorte?" I asked.
Justus shook his head. "Nae, Leesti. A source says that's where they're looking for a buyer."
***
George Lucas, Leesti System
Alliance Space
I deftly maneuvered the Asp onto its landing pad. "What's the plan?" I asked.
"We're posing as buyers," my father said. "These guys are idiots, and have been blabbing to anyone who'll listen that they're selling weapons. One of Justus's contacts here has already arranged a meeting."
"And then?"
"They take us back to their ship, and instead of a credit chip we give them something else," my father said, shrugging. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as he stood and walked over to the equipment locker. He removed two holstered weapons - the first immediately went onto his belt, but he paused for a moment and stared at the second weapon. After a moment's consideration, he turned and threw it toward me. I caught it, and pulled the weapon free from its holster.
"Your mother wanted you to have that someday," my father said, regaining my attention. "You take after her in more ways than you know." He left the bridge without saying anything more.
I stood, clipped the holster to my belt, and followed.
***
The trip to the meet was a short one, and we found ourselves in an alleyway behind one of the station's bars. This particular bar was on the high end, managing to sit just below the outer shell of the station. I had to fight the urge to look up at the stars that were visible in the spaces between the station's outer plates.
A man banged on the nearby dumpster as we approached, causing my father and I to come to a stop. A few seconds later a second man emerged from one of the nearby perpendicular alleyways and approached us, while the first man resumed his vigil - and his enjoyment of an onionhead joint.
"Want weapons?" the second man asked.
"With the amount of advertising you've been doing, we figured we'd better come take a look before someone bought up all the good stuff," my father said, removing a small flask from his jacket. He took a long drink from it before holding it out. "You got a name?"
The man took the flask and flashed us a yellow-toothed grin. "I'm Kelso," he said, after taking a sip from the flask and passing it back over. He waved toward the man next to the dumpster. "That Smalls."
"Kelso and Smalls?" I asked. "Sounds like you guys need to be on a Galnet show somewhere."
His grin faltered for a moment, before refocusing it on me. "Maybe," he said, "but now, we sell weapons." He turned his attention back to my father. "You want see, or what?"
"Show me," my father said. Smalls took one final puff from his onionhead joint before tossing it aside, and disappeared down the alley they had emerged from. He reappeared a moment later pulling a hover cart, upon which sat a large black case. A few seconds passed as the cart was moved into position. When it settled to the ground, he flipped the top open and waved us forward.
Inside the box, rows of laser rifles gleamed back at us.
"New shipment?" I asked.
"Fresh off press," Kelso grinned, as his compatriot nodded.
"You got any more?" my father asked.
Kelso nodded. "Loads. You come to our ship and see, yes?"
***
The cargo bay to the Cobra hung open as we approached, but they needn't have worried about any unwelcome guests - the bay was flanked by two men, each holding a laser rifle almost identical to the ones inside the crate that Smalls pulled along behind him.
"Fine ship, yes?" Kelso asked, waving at the Cobra as we passed into its cargo bay. The two guards turned and followed us inside.
"The Cobra Mk. III is a good ship," my father replied. Kelso laughed in agreement, before gesturing at the large cargo container that stood in the middle of the cluttered space.
"Many good weapons!" he said, waving Smalls over toward the container. When he got there, he bent to enter an access code into a keypad.
I leaned in toward my father. "Something seem off to you?"
He turned toward me, mouth open, before a quizzical look crossed his face. "If they stole the container..." My father turned back around and looked at Smalls, who had just finished entering the code.
Kelso's grin widened. "You lose."