Echoes, Epilogue
05 Jun 2017User4296
Stross Depot, Camazotz SystemAlliance Space
May 3302, One Week Later
The Stross Depot bar was small. This made sense, as it wasn't a particularly well-traveled station, which meant that the patrons were either the relatively small number of people who lived there, or the pilots of supply ships looking to relax while they waited for cargo to load or unload. As such, the bar exhibited a very family-like atmosphere.
The rest of the job had gone well enough, and Stanton, now seated next to me at the bar, had gotten the parts he had needed. I, not having any pressing business anywhere else, had lingered.
Maybe "family-like" was what I needed.
Our attentions were drawn to the TV hanging in the corner of the bar, which showed a graphic of a panda with a bamboo stalk in its mouth, and a caption underneath that read "ILLEGAL PANDA PELT TRADE?" The graphic collapsed into one corner of the screen and revealed a newscaster.
"Details are still hazy," she said, "But reports of illegally procured panda pelts continue to rock human space, as these pelts are harvested from allegedly bi-pedal, intelligent pandas," she went on, before glancing down at her notes. "Signs point to an enigmatic group calling itself 'The Church of Cats,' though they have denied any involvement."
Stanton and I blinked up at the screen.
"The universe is a strange place," I observed.
"Yup," Stanton agreed. "Speaking of strange..."
"You find anything out?" I asked, turning away from the TV set, the talk of pandas and cats falling into the background.
"Sorry to say, no," Stanton shrugged. "Whoever this Apex Unlimited is, they don't operate out here - or if they do, they're pretty adept at keeping secrets."
I looked back down at the glass of scotch on the table and sighed heavily. "Back to square one, then," I said.
"Sorry I couldn't be much help," Stanton said, reaching over to pat me on the shoulder.
"It's okay. Thanks for trying, though." I saluted Stanton with the glass and took a long drink. My PDA beeped as the liquid burned its way down my throat.
"Mm, hold on," I said, fishing the PDA out of its pocket. The words "Incoming Call" flashed on the screen.
Stanton patted me on the back a second time and stood. "Come find me later," he said, and quietly excused himself from the bar as I thumbed the answer button.
A black man appeared on the screen, and he appeared to be smoothing down his thin, well-kept mustache as I answered.
"Ah, hello," he said, quickly dropping his hand out of sight. "Have I reached a John Mathurin Jr.?"
I winced, then sighed. "Speaking."
"Most excellent. My name is Richard Grimm, and I represent a law firm on Davies High in Reorte - James, James, and James? Your father was a client with us."
I blinked. "The name..."
"It's complicated," he went on. "In any event, we have a service that keeps track of our clients’ vital signs. Upon death, we automatically set their wills into motion - as his only son, you are the sole beneficiary of his estate."
"I... see," I said.
He nodded. "As is customary, we must settle any debts your father may have incurred while he was alive. These were extensive, and I am afraid to inform you that of his cash holdings, a mere 240,000 credits remain, and these are being wired to your account now." The PDA beeped as the transaction finished. "However, there is one other thing."
"Which is?"
"There is a keycard to a hangar. As his last remaining possession, the key is now yours."
"What's inside it?" I asked.
"That is better discussed in person. When is the next time you'll be in Reorte?"
I drained what was left of the scotch. "I'll be there soon."
***
Davies High, Reorte System
Alliance Space
12 Hours Later
I turned the corner in the small hallway, and saw Mr. Grimm standing further down, next to a door. He smiled and waved as I approached, and extended a hand when I came near. "Mr. Mathurin, a pleasure to finally meet you. A shame it was under these circumstances, though - my condolences for your loss."
I shook his outstretched hand. "Thank you." He didn't need to know the details surrounding my father's death, nor that I was the one who killed him, however indirectly.
He took a step back and gestured toward the door while producing the keycard with his other hand. "This is the hangar your father left you," he said, and held out the keycard. "Would you like to do the honors?"
I shrugged and took the keycard before turning to slide it through the reader. The door emitted a low beep and slowly slid open, and the two of us entered the darkened room. I heard Grimm fumble around near the door, and the lights flickered on a moment later.
(ship pic here)
"A Courier?" I asked.
"Your father made it a point to keep an extra ship on hand, just in case he ever lost the other one." He thumbed through a datapad. "Though the records show that this ship hasn't been moved in five years."
"Does it have a name?"
"The Illaria," he replied, shrugging, and input a few commands on the datapad. "All we need is your signature here."
I reached over and took the pen from his outstretched hand, and scribbled my name onto the datapad before handing the pen back. We shook hands again.
"The ship is now yours, sir. Once again, my condolences." Grimm turned around and left the hangar, leaving me alone with the ship.
***
I settled back into the pilot's seat of the Illaria and looked around the ship. It was nice in the usual Imperial way, tossing a veneer of classiness over everything it touched.
The ship was roughly the same size as the Diamondback Scout and slightly less maneuverable, but capable of dealing and taking respectable amounts of punishment. It also didn't feel right to sell, so I figured I may as well have used it - leading me to strip down and sell the Pyrrha to outfit it. The best part was that the more efficient use of space inside the vessel allowed me to properly outfit the Illaria with everything I needed.
My companion padded into the room, and repeated his usual display of lifting his front legs up to rest on the armrest of the pilot's chair, and I gently patted him on the head.
"I still need to name you," I said to him.
He whined.
"How about... Jack?" I asked with a shrug.
He tilted his head, barked, and did something I had not seen him do in some time: wag his tail.
"Jack it is, then," I said, patting him on the head a second time. He barked again before dropping down from the chair. I heard the door open and shut again as he went back into the cabin.
Always more to do, I thought to myself as a new job request came in, a one-way trip to some nearby system.
END