Tue Mar 22, 2005 12:05 pm by Hawkinz
1.5
After leaving the Rhino smoking in the docking bay, Preytor and I stumbled out to the turbo shaft up to the bar. I needed information about that LDP4, fast. I had no idea if the Junkers, a normally superstitious lot, had gone over that ship with a fine toothed comb, or if it had been hauled down here to be sold at auction for the LibPols to put on display in on Manhattan. They WOULD want to make a show of that carcass.
"Aww man... the colors. The colors."
We were lucky that Rochester had been our destination, for being in a cardamine stupor was nothing new for these spacers to see. Not that they indulged themselves, mind you. But they dealt in the stuff. I was just worried about how much Preytor had sucked into his lungs. He was likely to start giving away money.
"Are we moving, Hawk?"
In fact, the turboshaft had just stopped. I was so lost in hope, I hadn't paid attention.
"Nope. We are here. You gonna drink something, or you just wanna hang out for a second?"
"I'm all set right here man."
"I can't just leave you on the shaft. Someone is gonna want to use it eventually."
"It's ok. I'll be their elevator boy. You go find some vegetables and a cat or two. I'll be alright."
I couldn't tell if he was hungry or just really that far gone. I honestly didn't know all that much about Preytor, or his eating habits.
Entering the bar, I went straight to the first Junker I saw.
"Hi"
"Hey there freelancer. Haven't seen you around. You new here?"
"Uhh, yeah"
"Well we're the Junkers. We own this base. I don't know you. Let me see your card."
I gave him the pirated IFF card. He looked it over and looked me up and down.
"I guess you're alright. What can I do for you today?"
"Whatcha got?"
"Well... we recently picked up an interesting piece of salvage. In the hands of the right salesman, someone could make a good profit. You might do well to sell it directly on Manhattan if you are of a mind to."
He handed me an info card. $25,000 credits! Holy ****! They had no idea what was tethered to their base. It was all I could do to keep from shouting, crying, dropping the info card, and hugging the guy. All I could hear in my head was the little voice of my conscience whooping for joy.
"Sounds good."
Beep Boop Beeeeeep. Damn that paging system. Every time you made a deal, everyone on the base had to hear about it. It was the most insane credit transfer system, yet every base used it. Atleast the designers had the intelligence to have the waypoint information sent directly to your ship's navcomp. Announcing it over the loudspeakers would have been a direct invite to trouble. But I wasn't all that concerned. In this case, there were no waypoints. No one was gonna be following me anywhere. I took the info card, trembling slightly in my hand and headed nonchalantly to the shaft.
The turbocar, and Preytor were nowhere to be seen. I called up another, and wondered where I, if I was completely out of my mind on more high grade cardamine than a family could use in a week, would go. In search of something to eat.
I took the car to the trade bays, and sure enough, a worried trade master was standing credit chit in hand next to a frightening Preytor. My companion was tearing apart a cargo pod of food divinate, the standard material replicators used to make the variety of food stuffs. It had a consistancy of clay. This was not deterring him in the least. I walked up to him and whispered near his ear.
"I got it."
"MMph?"
I couldn't contain myself. I screamed. "I GOT IT! WOOOHOOO!"
"Mmfrh." His battlemask was pulled up, and thankfully his face was partially obscured by being covered with divinate.
"Umm.. have that delivered to the Rhino in bay 3."
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." Preytor growled low for a moment as the trade master began to reach for the remains of the crate, then straightened. He adjusted his armor, wiped his face mostly clean with his hand and pulled the mask back in place. "Er... Yes. Have that delivered to the smoking hulk of a crap pile in bay 3. Good divinate, by the way. You should be proud."
"You feel better now?" I was torn between grinning like an idiot and being worried.
"Absolutely. I'm good to go for another thirty minutes at least. Of couorse, I'll crash after that. That was some good cardamine, by the way. Malta?"
I barely heard him. We reached the turboshaft, and my hands shook as I punched in the shipmaster at the docking bay. I know they were going to change their mind, and go back on the deal. Or this info card was fake. Or my IFF was going to be recognized. Or there would be an Outcast that would recognize me around the next corner. Something was gonna screw the pooch for me.
At the ship master's desk, I handed him the info card. He gave it a look, and punched up the info for my Rhino.
"You got some interesting damage here. Gonna cost extra to dispose of those bodies. You want I should install those weapons crates too?"
"NO... er.. no. I'll handle the weapons crates myself." No way I was gonna let these Junkers handle my Cray's. I just hoped they wouldn't notice they weighed more than the Punisher's they were tagged as. "And the human body, isn't a corpse. It goes on the LDP4."
"I can give you some credit on the remains of the Cardamine, but not much."
"Yeah, yeah.. whatever. Can we get this going?"
"You in some kind of rush, son?"
That stopped me. I was way too eager. Think, Hawkinz... Think... "My friend here... he was in the hold with most of that card when it was burning." Truth never hurt anyone. "And he's not gonna remain standing for long. I think he's gonna be sick, actually."
That hit a nerve. This guy didn't want to have to clean up some spacer's vomit.
"Ok. Well, with your trades, that's $23700."
I reached into my pocket. Nothing. DAMINT ALL TO HELL GH!!!!! All my profit. All my credits. Up in smoke.
"Preytor. I need money."
"Hmm? Money? How much?"
"$24k."
Preytor stepped up to the man, divinate still slightly encrusting the edge of his mask. "You want $24k?"
The shipmaster eyed him warily, then switched to a pair of fearful eyes very quickly. "Uhh.. yep. $23, 700 actually. Well... $21000 really."
Preytor shrugged. "Ok." and dropped a credit chit on the counter. The man nervously passed it through the scanner automatically setting it up for deduction. "Actually, I'm only taking $20500, since that Rhino'd damage isn't really combat related."
Sometimes it really pays to have a friend scary enough to win a fight without ever swinging a punch.
Back at the Rhino, I gathered the remains of my bedroll and clothing kit, grabbed the sixpack in the front cooler, and we took the ship to ship transporter to the LDP4. I held my breath upon arrival, but there was no acrid smell of smoke or burned flesh. There were no signs of fire, in the mess or crew quarters as we passed through them. I took a quick look in the cargo hold, saw my weapons crates, and noticed it was as clean as a whistle. Preytor continued on down the hall, stopping at the first cabin. With a kick the door was open, and he was falling over the threshhold to hopefully land on a bunk. I'd let him sleep.
I hesitated at the door to the bridge. What gruesom sight awaited me? The door slid open on it's pneumatics to a dimly lit, but spotless interior. It was not only damage free, but it was cherry! Every flat surface without a control was upholstered in leather! The seats! The sides of panels! The beercan holders! The control stick was wrapped in leather. All dark browns and blacks. It took me a minute to realize they had dumped Goldie in the communication's seat. The frelling bathroom door was covered in leather. Gods, I could bounce around this room inZero G and love every second of it.
I gingerly slid into the pilot's seat. It felt like orgasmic butter. Like a glove. The seat cradled me, calling... wriggle in me.. wriggle in me... so I wriggled in it. Everything was too perfect.
Wait. would she even start?
1.5
Edited by - Hawkinz on 3/22/2005 3:06:39 PM