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Jim Perch walked out of the shower, the rivulets running down his back. The cold of space seeped through the walls and insulation, forcing him to shudder like a broken ship. He wiped himself dry and toweled his hair until the creeping sensation of automated flying tickled his attention; they were docking at Harkon. It had been a long trip, and more than once he had almost ploughed the boat into a star out of sheer frustration, but here they were to drop off nickel for a bare pittance. How joyous. Merlin dressed in his usual attire after gauzing the naval tattoo, a plain white crew shirt, his jacket, and boots: the knife was snuggly tucked under the collar of said boots and the handgun sat in a shoulder holster on his back, hidden from sight. He exited his cabin and turned a sharp right and was promptly at the cockpit door. So close, in fact, that the cigarette smoke from Kyo was infecting his room.
"Get that death stick out of my cockpit," he said, strolling into the cabin. Kyo was sprawled out at his flightboard, the scent-invading portable cancer machine dangling ever so gently from two fingers. Smoke trailed up to the ceiling and then was wafted out by the air conditioning to be cleansed by the scrubbers. Kyo was He reached the intercom system and moved the lever from 'Off' to 'Ship'. Between these options were each individual room, in the case of a lazy crew member that needed a prompt awakening. "Ladies and gentleman, we have arrived. Docking will -" the ship thooked lightly from the air lock "- commence right now. If you could make your way to the airlock for depressurisation, with your com-nets already attached, that would be superb. You're all free to explore Harkon until I need you back. Last months paycheck should be in your bank accounts. Enjoy your vacation," he said, sliding the lever back to 'Off'.
Cestus walked in to the cockpit. A brute of a man, with muscles that would make any man want to admire. It was evident he was cautious of his body though, which was very noticeable as he always made the best efforts to hide the ghastly scarring which criss-crossed his body like city streets. Everyone on Jim's crew had scars: if they were physical, mental, or of the heart and soul, a scar would always be treated with care on the Sparrow. Jim had his own wounds he neglected to share with the crew, things that didn't concern them. But the others had their own, and of course they may not tell him everything, it was precisely 5% of his business after all, but he did require to know what the danger of bringing them aboard was. If they had a mild disdain for a vegetable, then fine, he supposed he could let them on. If they had recently assassinated the Terran Governor though, that would be a crew member he could happily bypass. In Cestus' case, he had said he was in the Rikari pits and that was all he needed. In any case, Jim was happy to have him. He was strong as a gluon, and a damn fine chef. "I prefer My Lord, and My Lord is sick of these ruddy cigarettes," Merlin said. He plucked the cigarette from Cestus' mitt, smiled sarcastically at the man, and then rolled the tip of the fag with his wetted fingertips. "When you get off my ship you can kill yourself all you want, I'm sick of my meals tasting like ash though." Jim pulled out his wallet and handed Cestus 3000 credits. "If you need any more get me on the com-net. Get me a bottle of that Kongi whiskey, the sweet one. I'll check if the others want anything, I'm going to go check the cargo." Merlin left the cockpit and headed for the cargo bay where he inspected the bonded crates, making sure they were properly sealed. He double check the data-slate, confirming the orders with what was on the ship. Everything was a-okay. He swished his finger across the surface of the data-slate to sign it off, and put the tablet on
the desk in the corner. As he stepped over, Jim looked left and saw the blanket on the floor again. Not even for the fourth or fifth time, but it was more than four hands worth, that was all he knew. But Cestus did his jobs well, so what could he shout at him for? Not doing someone else's job too? Jim turned and walked into the corridor.
The Soaring Sparrow was a reasonably sized ship. Larger than the typical small ship, but more than enough for the seven of them on here. It only had the one level, but the cargo hold was submerged more so that it had a larger volume in the unfortunate incident of a poisonous gas leak. But it was home, and therefore it was clean. The walls were a a very light-grey, before the point of creepy and still in the realm of brightening. The floors weren't grated as he had those horror shows replaced years ago when he first bought them. It was a flush, smooth, scuffed pathway, and bright lights along the walls to illuminate. All the air conditioning systems were well-maintained, and the walls were cleaned frequently and re-coated when they became particularly bashed. The cockpit was dark so that they could see more clearly in the void, the only lights being from the dials and screens. Each of the rooms were furnished with a bed, toilet, corner shower, and a window to view the empty. The dining room was the best looking room in the whole ship. A large oak table hunched majestically in the centre, while a semi open-plan kitchen was nearby. The floors were a wood-substitute, that looked, felt, and smelled like real wood but it was another fine Terran recipe, originally created when the Kongi were first discovered on their many tree-covered planets. The wood substitute was used to create authentic looking camoflauge for soldiers, bunkers, weapons, in the event that the two empires went to war. They never did, thankfully. But it made a really fine interior design choice.
As Jim exited the cargo hold, he turned right to walk to the engine room where he could hear the sounds of welding and grunting. He slid the door back to reveal tools haphazardly thrown across the floor and a splayed body on the floor trying to fix something. Jim had never had too much of an indepth mind beyond what he had to know, and even that was mostly gone now with the hiring of an engineer. "This place actually looked cleaner when everything was broken," Merlin commented to the engineer. "I know I haven't really seen you since you've been aboard, apologies for that. It's been some kind of trip, I'll tell you. How are you liking it here? Everything alright? Any issues? If so, it's a pretty small ship so you'll be able to find me somewhere here, or just yell. And we're going on Harkon soon, so do you want anything bought for you? Our Loadmaster, Certus, he's picking up supplies and was wondering." The engineer and the captain spoke for a while before he left and headed to the med lab next door.
"Andreas, my man. How are you? No-one dead yet?" Jim asked. "Certus is going out for supplies while we gallavant. Are you needing anything?" Andreas replied and they parted ways, Jim onto the next crew member. Cyl Kitt was in her cabin, with what looked like a scrapheap of electronics. God knows that a load of those were probably taken from the ship's own components. Jim only hoped it was nothing important otherwise hyperspace might become a very interesting journey. "Cyl, how are you? What have you torn apart this time?" he asked the android. She remained fiddling with a bunch of wires, sitting cross legged as she did so. "I have not 'torn apart' anything. These have been extracted from the ship," she replies. "And, to your first question, I am fine."
Jim nodded. "I'm very glad to hear it. May I ask why you've extracted potentially vital components? Are you building something cool?" He actually hoped she was, she was very good at building cool things.
"When it is done, it will not be 'cool'. It will be quite hot. I plan to see how well the reactor functions when hit by an Electro-Magnetic Pulse." Cyl says, connecting more wires. Jim looks at her for a moment. "Oh, okay, no," he says. He reaches out and grabs ahold of the wires and tucks them in the back of his trousers. "That's not happening. Come on Cyl, we're going for a walk," he said.
"B-But, you said I could experiment on what I wished," Cyl says, trying to take back the wires before they went into his trousers. Just in case, Cyl took the remaining components and dumped them into her uniform. "Why is it required that we go on a walk? I was trying to further the ship's defenses." She says, standing.
"Can you remind me if I mentioned nothing that will kill, maim, or damage the ship? If I didn't I'm declaring that now. He watched her put the wires in her own clothes. "That's real mature Cyl, real mature," he said. Jim walked out of the room and back up to the engine bay. He opened the door and chucked the wires from the back of his trousers onto the ground. "I have no idea where these came from. No idea at all. If you can figure it out your drinks are on me. We may die after all," Jim remarked to the engineer. What was her name again?
"The retrieved components for the Electro-Magnetic Pulse device had been retrieved from... Oh, I think I forgot," Cyl says, as if to rub it in.
"See? We're already dead," he said. Jim reached over and plucked the wires from Cyl's pocket and tossed them to the engineer. "Sorry, we don't do over-time." Jim spun and looked at Cyl. "Alright, just a few things left to do."
Jim walked down the hall past Cyl's room to the neighbouring cabin, with the android following behind. He looked inside and saw Glargh. "Hey Glargh, Cestus is going out for supplies and is asking if anyone wants anything. Anything you want?" Jim asked. Glargh was one person he truly felt sorry for. He hadn't really been able to communicate with the burned fellow, but he seemed like a sincere guy, so Jim didn't mind bringing him aboard. He was working well and hadn't caused any fights, therefore Jim was happy to welcome him to the Sparrow, seemingly a home for anything broken, bent or buckled. He spoke to the man for a little longer before leaving and returning to the cockpit and vomitted out what the remaining members had asked for. "What about you, Cyl? Do you need any supplies that are safe to bring aboard for the ship and its crew members?" Jim asked the android by his side.
Cyl's eyes seemed to light up when she was asked if she needed any supplies. Unfortunately, Jim had made sure to include the fact that they had to be safe for the ship and it's crew members, however that only narrowed it down by a fraction. She began to read out a mentally prepared list.
"Yes, captain. I require a mass introspectromiter, a stahiman obalhorse, twenty three barrels of reactor coolant, two barrels of ionized porat cells..." Cyl continued to read off a list in her head that seemed to never end.
Jim looked at Cestus and Kyo, incredulously. "I'm assuming those are safe since you are who you are, but you're not getting any of that. It's like buying bleach and ammonia; they're safe seperately but together, not so much. I meant something along the lines of, I don't know, a book, some alcohol, an apple. Androids are so... interesting sometimes," he said. Jim sighed heavily.
"Book, alcohol and an apple? Organic products? Well, there are some organic products that I require..."
Jim looked curiously. "I'm listening. Will I regret listening?" he asked. A moment later, another list began via Cyl's mouth. "A gumworm from the world Eernata, three toial fruits, a barrel of nine hundred bunebub grapes, a pair of Itanar whales..." Once again, she did not stop.
"I had to ask," Jim muttered. "Did you want to come with us, Kyo? To look for another job?You got everything you need Cestus?" he asked his first-mate and the Loadmaster. "Let's meet everyone in the airlock," he said. Jim moved to the airlock, Cyl following and continuing to list the products that she required, all organic, and met the five other crew members there, ready to depart. He tapped the button and a wave of stale air overcame the crew. "How is it the recycled air is better than this air?" Jim mumbled. The crew split and Jim and the andriod went left. The nickel ore was already on a floating pallet that Jim took ahold of and started pushing along the edge of the station.
"Did you catch all of that, captain?" Cyl asks, as she walks beside him. Her human, cute side decided to walk a little faster and then sit on the pallet that Jim pushed.
"Of course I got all that. Cestus is going to see what he can do in the market," Jim fibbed. A little white lie. He didn't want to refuse her, he quite enjoyed her reasonable cheeriness aboard the boat, but what she wanted was dangerous. So he told a white lie. He pushed the cart a little more until he could see the fat, squat man waiting him on the park bench. "Quick question Cyl, how much do you figure all this nickel ore is worth?"
"Visually, a lot. Otherwise, I don't know," Cyl replies. She lays back in the pile of nickel, yawning loudly. "I got no sleep," she says, despite the fact she required no sleep. It was only human of her to try and sleep, though, and she sometimes just laid idly for a while in a bed, or sometimes on the floor until someone found her and shifted her.
"Thank you, science officer," Jim replied sarcastically. "Why, rough night? Bad dreams?" he asked idly. He couldn't tell if she was putting it on, the human side of her, or if there really was some code in her that made her say some jarringly human things. The cart stopped just before the fat man. "I have a few conditions before anything. One, if you cuss I will find a new buyer. Two, tell your men to stand down. There's no dodgy dealings happening today. Three, I'm taking no less than 4000Cr away with me. Any more is great, any less is a no deal," Jim declared. He watched the man as his eyes slipped down from Jim's deadpan eyes to the young, cute blonde girl sprawled over the crates. "And she is not part of the deal," Jim said.
"Sir, I have looked at the ore amount. The ore weight indicates, minus the weight of the crates, that they are worth 3998 point 36 Credits," she says, her head tilted back to look at Jim. She then tilted it forward to look at the man in front of her, before sitting up straight, remaining on the pallet, though.
Jim smirked and looked at the man. "Well there we go, straight from the walking calculator. 4000 and we can go," Jim said. The man still gaped at Cyl, which in turn made Jim feel uncomfortable. He slipped a hand underneath her arm and move her off the crate, walking her behind him. "4000, take it or leave it." The old man returned his gaze to Jim.
"How much is she worth?" he asked, drool almost visible on his chin. "She's not for sale, she has her freedom. This nickel, on the other hand..." Jim tried to move the conversation.
"An hour with her, you can keep your scrap, and I'll pay 5000Cr."
"You can do it," she whispers. "I'll just run from him afterwards."
"3500 Credits. Final offer," Jim said. He held the android behind his body, trying to shield her from the perverted gaze.
"6000 Credits and and her for 30 minutes," he snarled.
"I think we're done here." Jim pulled the pallet back, keeping a beady eye on the fat man. "Wait!" he shouted at the pair. "You'll get 2250 for the crates and I don't ravage your woman."
"Deal," Jim grudgingly said. The fat man tossed a pretty light purse at them, while Jim pushed the pallet to glide to him.
"A pleasure," he said, bowing at Cyl. "Turn around and walk, Cyl," Jim said under his breath. He looked up at the surrounding buildings for anything suspicious. It was unclear to Jim whether or not Cyl had noticed what he had muttered, but she began to walk over to the man. To her, the man had not said that he wouldn't have her, just that she wouldn't be touched.
The deal had been done, he couldn't willfully let her go with this obscenity of a man. She was out of reach, due to his unawares that she had moved. "Cyl, it's your captain. Listen to me very carefully. Stop walking right now, turn around and walk back in this direction. Do not look at that man I just dealt with, but walk straight to me. We are going to leave with this money and we are going to meet up with the rest of the crew. Do you understand, Cyl?" Jim asked, his voice stern but crystalline.
"But you just sold me off to this man," Cyl replies, halting. "The man asked for me for thirty minutes, and got me with the promise that he would not 'ravage' me."
The fat man looked very pleased with himself as he beckoned Cyl with his hands. Jim had three options: let Cyl go with this creep; grab her and run, where they may be hunted; or kill him. The fat man's men had stepped down as he couldn't see them watching from any vantage point. Jim had only killed a few men in this type of situation before, but right now he felt very justified. His right hand slipped underneath the leather and gripped the holster. The fat man realised what was happening, as did Cyl. She screamed and fell to the ground, holding her hands over her head. Jim pulled it out quickly with one hand and stepped forward, firing off a round. It pinged off the wall by the fat man's arm and showered the man's shoes in sparks. Another round exited the barrel and struck center mass, sending the vulgarity to his knees. A third round found the man's shoulder, splintering bone. People started to look around corners. The fourth and final round spiralled towards the man's throat and punctured his trachea, allowing the pervert to both suffocate and drown in his own blood. Jim bent down and grabbed Cyl, who was crying tears of fear, forcing her to run back the way they came and along the other side of the station to the bar where he normally met back up with the crew, The Spinning Schooner. He pushed her in and forced them through to a corner booth, where Jim ordered two pints of the local beer, speaking into the com-net about the situation he had just thrust everyone into. "There's been an incident. Watch yourselves until you get to the bar," he said to the crew. Cyl cried the whole time, quivering in absolute fear at what had happened. "Oh my god, oh my god," she sobbed.
"It's fine Cyl. Some people deserve to stop being here. He didn't deserve to be here any more," Jim said. He was panting heavily from the running, and took a heavy, deep gulp from the glass. The froth rested on his upper lip like a poor man's moustache. Cyl's only reaction was to place her head on his shoulder and cry out her human-like tears. Jim placed his hand on her hand and stroked her long blonde hair, softly and smoothly, hoping to calm the girl down. She sniffs, quivering gently.
