Whistle Stopping
25 Apr 2020Maggie Oz
My eyes cracked open just the tiniest amount and the searing beam of the nuclear inferno blazed in to savage my exposed retinas and send my cerebral cortex into overload with a throbbing agony that threatened to explode out of my eyeballs.I felt the bile rise in my throat and had to bear down not to be ill.
I felt a cold sweat break out across my whole body.
With a moan I buried my head under the pillow.
"DAAACCCC, Co- coofffeeeee" I wail plaintively
"Madam, in your present condition, imbibing a diuretic such as ..."
"so help me God DAC if you finish that sentence I will take to your mainframe with an EMP grenade" I threatened in a husky voice, making a fist and flicking up my thumb with its long red fingernail in the manner of the lever on a Royal Marine grenade
" .... I ..... I shall summon Mistress Pris" DAC managed
"There's a. good. chap. "
It had started just 24hours ago, on my way back from my Thargoid Hunting expedition.
The comm chimed, it was Roy
"Hello Roy"
"Hello babe, how's the Xeno Hunting going?"
"Roy Batty, do not take the piss with me, you know full well it was an unmitigated disaster" I replied, knowing that Roy tracks me regularly through the Imperial Naval Intelligence network
"Well at least you are coming home with your, "sweet little arse", intact" he laughed.
"Humpf" I snort "I lost Tiny though, that was a right bugger"
"So will you have another go?" He asked. I could tell he was edging towards something and that there was a "come on be a love" not too far away.
"Yes I should think so but I'll be needing a much bigger ship. I was going to spec up a Clipper but I've decided a Cutter would be better"
Roy whistled" Well that is serious, you'll need more cash and a Duchy as well"
"Yes indeed, I have some ideas in mind for that"
"Well" -here it comes- "I may just have something that might interest you"
Roy has a bloody annoying trait of knowing my thought processes almost better than I do and he works them into his plans on a regular basis. To be fair though, it has always been to my benefit.
"The Senator is needing to ... firm things up in this sector and he has his eye on the various loyalist minor factions hereabouts" he said, launching into the sales pitch, "He's spotted one, GOM Collective they are called, solid bunch of chaps. They're in an election right now in one of their more populated systems. We were thinking if you could help out a bit, it'd go pretty well for everyone, having a few more billion folks on the team would be very useful"
"Oh..... yes ok, I can do that, shuffling a bit of data about was what I had planned for working towards my Cutter anyway" I replied, "seems a win win to me"
"Ummm" he said hesitantly
"Umm, what?" I demanded.
"Well it's just that things are a little bit different now. I know you've shuffled data before but in an election, we need a little more than just a delivery. You need to meet and greet, press the flesh, maybe a word or two, you know the sort of thing"
"Seriously?"
"Yes, don't worry Chief Holden will brief you fully"
"..... well alright I suppose. I managed to blunder along this far I guess I can meet with a few more executives"
"yes, yes executives" he hedged " and a few union organisers, maybe the odd mine boss, coughprisoncoughwardencough"
"What?!? Did you say prison? No way"
"It's a prison colony, so not a maximum security detention centre or anything like that. The Senator feels that showing the Colonists he cares will go a long way in the future, come on, be a love."
There it is!
- sigh - "Alright then, but the "Senator" better have a bloody good memory"
"Oh he does, he does" Roy assured me "Holden has all your briefings and clothing sorted out"
"OK" .... clothing?? I thought ...
When I returned to Aztlan, Chief Holden was in fine form, briefings on whom to talk too, what to say to each and the appropriate attire for each of the 20+ meetings she had lined up. Smart Executive Suit for the Corporate systems, Full Naval for the Dictatorships, Casual attire on the platforms and ground bases, but pretty tight and showing a fair amount of cleavage. Life's lonely on those platforms.
There was a 100% neck to ankle "sack" for the Prison Colony, apparently the Governor doesn't approve of anything less on women folk. Likes to keep the inmates' thoughts pure .....
And so off I set.
I load up the data core with the information and undertakings, promises made for loyalties given.
My first stop is a welcome interlude, a quiet chat with the local "influencers" and a wine or two.
Then it's onto the next one, more handshakes and assurances, "oh yes he's very interested in (insert project that is important to you here) "
"We look forward to your support"
Another wine, or two,
Another boardroom
"Oh is that the local Whiskey? Don't mind if I do"
Crack out the Naval Whites and stomp about clicking heels and crap
"A toast to our Glorious Leader," Aiee that burns!!
Back into the suit
"Can't you stay for just one more?"
Slip on the cocktail dress
"Lavian Brandy, that would be delightful"
-Gee I'd better go easy, getting a bit wobbly. Thank God for the autodock! -
I dock at a mining platform above a ringed planet somewhere and to greet me is a huge bear of a man with a buxom wife, lovely couple, who love their dram
"EEEE git this in ta ya lassie" they bawl and we drink ...... I have no idea how much. They were just glad of the company and it's my capacity to chug their whiskey that is important, not hollow promises from "Some gooney twat oo' canna be arsed ta turn oop hi'self ta talk"
I can barely stand but somehow I manage to make it back to the ship, I select up the last destination, the Penal Colony.
I don't recall landing it's all a bit of a haze.
I do remember thinking "Hey this isn't the sack Holden told me to wear",
I remember the parade of inmates, maybe someone shouted, "Show us ya tits" and I think maybe I did? I dunno.
There were sirens, people running and shouting, a stern looking Guv'na and me being hustled to the space dock.
No one will ever know how I didn't end up in the middle of a star, I guess 200 odd years of flying the Galaxy builds a certain muscle memory.
I do remember summoning every inch of my composure to ask Aztlan Flight Operations to have Sir Richard meet me at the dock. Which he did...
Pretty sure I was calling him Dick and giggling, as he fireman carried me into a tubecar.
I must have passed out around that time.
The next thing I knew was the light of the new day blazing in through my window and my head was on fire.
The Angel of the Lord who is Pris dutifully arrived and brought me back from the brink with a steaming coffee and cool hand on my throbbing forehead.
"There, there dear"
Then the comm chimed .......