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Post by Gigermann on Feb 16, 2010 14:02:31 GMT -6
| 4 Jul 2204, near [early-sundown]; Southpointe Marina, Marilyn, Midway, USA |
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Post by Rigil Kent on Feb 16, 2010 23:43:00 GMT -6
It was too hot to think.
The sun had long since vanished below the horizon, but still, the temperature hovered above thirty degrees Celsius with no sign of dropping any time soon. Hot wind rolled over the Southpointe Marina, bringing with it the taste of rain, and distant thunder warned of coming storms so frequent this time of year, but no one paid them any mind as fireworks danced and sparkled in the dark sky. Today was Independence Day, the Fourth of July, Twenty-Two Oh Four, and it was a time of celebration here on the planet Midway.
To Trent’s eyes, though, the fireworks display was decidedly unimpressive. Lackluster, he would say if anyone asked him, and from the way so few people seemed to be watching the pyrotechnics in the sky, he was far from the only one with that opinion. Instead, most eyes seemed fixed on the two figures on the wobbling dock floating on the water between the Omen and the Sophie. Just under three meters in size, the platform had probably been intended for fishing or perhaps to secure a small water skiff, but Steg’s decision to transform it into a makeshift pyramid court—and the resulting bouts—had drawn a sizeable audience of locals and visiting starship crews. Already, two matches had been played on it, the first between Steg and Ditch Resnick over the fate of Steg’s Marine cutlass that Resnick had retrieved from that pirate ship almost three weeks ago, and the second with the two men competing against (and crushing) a pair of locals, and in both instances, players had gone into the water.
At the moment, Steg was on his third match, this time against Em Chappelle who, despite being significantly outmassed by the ex-marine, was holding her own far better than Resnick had. Where Steg had strength and size, she had quickness and a willingness to use her body that never ceased to fluster the big man. If AJ didn’t know better, he’d think he was watching the two flirt.
No, he decided as Em body-checked Steg and let her hand linger near the man’s groin for a heartbeat longer than necessary, he was watching them flirt.
Shuddering slightly, Trent turned away from the match and let his eyes rove over the marina. Both of the starships were secured to a waterborne pier, with rickety wooden walkways allowing access to the cargo bays. Tulk sat just inside the Omen’s port cargo bay, reclining on an uncomfortable-looking chair with his back against the bulkhead and his eyes on the pyramid match. Every few seconds, he would look away from where Steg and Em conducted their aggressive foreplay so he could scan the dock as if he were expecting someone to show up at any second. He caught AJ’s look and offered him a quick, discreet nod before returning to pretending he was enjoying himself.
Atop the main pier, Ty Coleman tended to the barbeque grill someone—AJ thought it was Tulk, much to his surprise—had provided when the decision was made to leave the Station for the Independence Day celebration. At his side, wearing a positively absurd-looking apron, the Sophie’s medic—Desi Zuccari—chatted away with a bright smile on her lips. AJ smirked at the confused look on Ty’s face before continuing his quick scan of the dock. He intentionally skipped over Julie as she chatted up a man he did not know, instinctively pushing down the grimace of recognition over her tells; providing he didn’t say or do anything stupid, the stranger was going to get lucky tonight.
“Come on, man!” Ditch’s loud exclamation drew AJ’s attention back to the floating pyramid court and he smiled at the sight of Em positively molesting Steg as the ex-marine tried—rather valiantly in Trent’s opinion—to ignore her wandering hands and body checks in his attempt to score a goal. She stole the ball fairly easily and easily backhanded it into the net, a saucy grin on her face.
“Four, nothing,” she announced brightly, laughing outright at the difficulty Steg had in maintaining an upright position.
“Pretty sure a handjob counts as a foul,” the ex-marine groused as he shifted his pants.
“You gonna complain?” Em retorted as she assumed the ready position.
“Hell, no, darling.” Steg grinned. “You can foul me all night long.” Both of them snickered.
AJ shook his head and glanced once more around the docks. He froze instantly at the sight of Julie leading her lucky man of the hour into the Sophie, and bile swirled within his stomach. Their eyes met—Julie looked away first, but Trent swallowed at the flat indifference he saw on her face. The bullet around his neck suddenly felt heavier than it had ever been and he knew he had to get the hell out of here before he did something everyone would regret.
“Where’s Mishka?” he asked of Ty a moment later, well aware of the pitying looks he was receiving from both Coleman and Desi. It took nearly every gram of willpower on AJ’s part, but he managed to keep the despair and fury thundering through his veins from showing.
“She took off an hour or so ago,” Coleman replied. “I think she was going to meet that on-again, off-again boyfriend of hers.” There was a hint of jealousy in Ty’s voice and he busied himself with the steaks to hide the flare of embarrassment that crossed his face, even as Desi looked away to conceal her own smirk. Coleman’s crush on the Omen’s engineer was a thing pretty much everyone but Mishka knew about.
“I’m going to go look for her,” AJ decided, as if it were a spur-of-the-moment decision instead of a desperate need to get the hell away from his wife—ex-wife, he reminded himself bitterly—and the jackass she was taking to her bed. With any luck, the hunt for Mishka could eat up a couple of hours and get his mind off of Julie. To his great relief, Ty nodded.
“Make sure you’re armed,” Tulk’s voice suggested from behind him, and AJ half-turned to where the man now stood. Despite the darkness, Tulk was wearing sunglasses and had on a hat that effectively concealed his features. AJ frowned. One day, he was going to ask the man what he was running from, what it was that scared him so much.
One day, but not today.
“Always,” Trent replied. He pulled up shirt to reveal the holstered las-pistol at the small of his back. “If you need me,” he added as he turned away, double-checking the power level of his wristcomp, “I’m on channel seven.”
From the docks, he made his way to the open-air market on the edge of the marina, weaving through the festive party-goers dancing through the streets. In the one hundred and twenty-one years since the United Stars Alliance had broken away from the Terran Federal Republic, the Independence Day festivities had become almost a carnival, similar in many ways to the old Mardi Gras celebrations once common on Earth, back before the TFR government had deemed it to be dangerous to the stability of the State and suppressed it. A large number of citizens here on Midway were ethnocentrically Chinese, and their presence made the festivities even more quixotic, with parades of dragons bearing the USA’s flag and streamers of ribbons decorated with symbols that meant absolutely nothing to a man born and raised in the TFR, no matter how beautiful they were. Hand firecrackers snapped and popped upon the ground, outdoing the feeble display in the sky. Laughter and other exclamations of joy rang through the air, and AJ let himself be carried along with the crowd.
He lost track of how much time he’d spent in the streets of Marilyn, the capital city of Midway, but the sun was already creeping back up in the sky—not an unexpected event, what with the fourteen hour rotation of the planet—when he found himself standing in front of the oldest building on Midway. Called the Imperator House, it was an archaic style house constructed around (and named for) the remains of the first human starship to land on—or rather, crash—on this planet around one hundred and fifty years earlier. For decades, it had served as the legislative body and seat of government until a dedicated capitol building was constructed. These days, it was a historical museum open to the public.
“Imperator is only a title,” Grimm’s voice from days earlier seemed to whisper in AJ’s ear, “a position … a description, if you will.”
“Fils de salope,” Trent muttered. He hated it when Grimm did this sort of thing to him. In the eight years since he’d come to Midway, he’d probably passed this stupid building a hundred times and never once had any thought to enter it. Now, with just a comment said in passing by a man who probably wasn’t even a man, AJ felt an overpowering urge to investigate. He blew out a frustrated breath and glanced at the digital display hanging over the door. The House didn’t open for another two hours.
A heartbeat later, he realized that the door was hanging open.
“And here we go,” he grumbled as an all too familiar sensation swirled within his stomach. It was like he had leapt from a skycraft of some sort and was plunging groundside, excitement and trepidation coursing through his veins. Damn you, Grimm, he cursed. If he had a lick of sense, he’d call the local police or at least let his crew know what was going on.
But instead, he pushed the door open and entered the building.
The museum's foyer was dark and silent. Trent looked around the room at the inactive holo-displays, and wondered to himself what it was that he expected to find here. The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of activity in an adjacent hallway, and Trent's hand snapped instinctively to his back, and his sidearm. Silhouetted against the emergency lighting, a small, older gentleman emerged from the hallway, and immediately noticed the stranger in the foyer.
“Sir, sir…you can't be in here! We're closed for the holiday,” the man, apparently wearing some sort of work uniform, exclaimed nervously.
For a long moment, AJ hesitated. Had he made a mistake and misunderstood what Grimm intimated? Had his attempt to be proactive for a change been a mistake? Nothing leaped out at him as being wrong or out of place, and the harried-looking man in front of him seemed to be honest. Trent cleared his throat and forced a smile on his face, even as he allowed his hand to drop away from the holstered pistol concealed under his shirt.
“My apologies,” he said carefully. “Your door was open,” AJ continued, “and I was curious as to why.” He took a step toward the door, halfway expecting something to go wrong.
After all, when Grimm was involved, something always went wrong.
“Why? Cuz I'm a cheong bao ho tze buhn dahn what left the gorram door open, that's why…” The custodian trailed off into muttering as he approached the door, fumbling for the keys. “Go on now, son—back to the party. No party here,” he said as he shooed the overly-curious stranger out the door.
Disappointed that he hadn't found his clue, AJ turned back toward the street, and "the party," to discover a familiar form standing before him, with a familiar air of matronly patience. “Something wrong?” Betty inquired.
| AJ Trent
Steg
Tulk
Ditch
Em
Ty
Desi
Julie
Lionel
Monk |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 1, 2010 10:53:22 GMT -6
Trent blinked in mild surprise. Off the top of his head, he couldn't remember the last time the android had left the ship when she—or rather, it—wasn't in the presence of Mishka. No matter how well she emulated human behavior, someone actually paying attention could always tell that she was an artificial person which made her—it, AJ reminded himself—the target of all sorts of thieves, especially drug-runners who would love to have access to her voluminous medical knowledge. He wet his lips and gave the street a quick glance. The parade procession had moved on, leaving behind only the trash that always accompanied such ceremonies.
“I was looking for Mishka,” he admitted with a slight frown. It wasn't the full truth, but was still technically accurate since that was his stated reason for leaving the dock. At Betty's look, he shrugged. “Just making sure she's okay.”
“My charge is right over there,” Betty indicated, pointing toward the receding procession, and a happily-inebriated, young couple; Mish was yelling AJ's name, beckoning him to join the revelry, while the “boyfriend”—What was his name? Gavin? Melvin?—waved and brandished a bottle of something-or-other. “They're headed to that bar over there. She wants to buy you a drink—said you looked like you could use some company.”
Gesturing for Betty to precede him, AJ gave the Imperator House a second look before falling into step alongside the android. He didn't bother reminding her that he no longer drank alcohol, knowing that she would have that factoid logged somewhere in her positronic brain. Mishka's wide smile at his approach caused his mood to brighten slightly—it was good to see her pushing past the severe shyness that so often crippled her, even if it was only because of the copious amount of alcohol she'd consumed. AJ gave her boyfriend a quick once-over, noting with some mild relief that the young man seemed to be relatively normal for a change, without the more visible cybernetic implants that seemed to be all the rage with kids Mishka's age. And when exactly, Trent wondered, had he gotten so old that he thought of people their age as kids?
“Have a drink!” the boyfriend exclaimed as he pushed the bottle into AJ's hands. Without bothering to even look at the label—it smelled like high-end whiskey—Trent passed the bottle on to Mishka who took a healthy swig. She was babbling on a kilometer a minute about something technical, pausing only briefly to take a drink before continuing her diatribe about anti-matter reactors. Her partner nodded in comprehension, though whether that was because he actually understood or was just trying to get into her pants, AJ didn't know. He hoped it was the former because he really wasn't in the mood to go all ‘big brother’ on the jackass who broke the heart of the young girl he now thought of like a little sister. With a subtle nudge, he directed the two toward one of the open tables on the streets just outside the bar, Betty trailing a step or two behind them.
“Coffee, please,” he ordered through the automated menu secured to the wall next to the table before he sank into one of the uncomfortable chairs. He placed his credit chit into the reader underneath the small device and, a second later, the menu chirped its acknowledgment of the order.
Across the table from him, Mishka and the boyfriend were sharing a chair, and too busy exploring one another's tonsils to even notice Betty's discreet movement to dump the last of the whiskey into the recycler. The android gave him a wide-eyed look which AJ acknowledged with a tight nod. He leaned back in his chair and looked around, hoping to find something that would distract him from the stab of envy over the couple beside him. Not that long ago, he and Julie would have been sitting there.
| AJ Trent
Betty
Mishka
"Gavin/Melvin" | And hope answered.
As he scanned the crowded bar, out of the corner of his eye, AJ spotted a subtle movement, as a woman, seated alone at the end of the bar, attempted, and nearly succeeded, to avoid his direct gaze. A barely-disguised smirk of embarrassment, the lightly bitten lower lip, indicated to his trained eye that his observer knew full well that her cover had been blown. As Trent continued to discreetly study her, he registered a certain elegance and poise about her that was unusual in a woman her age, as she tried to avoid a second glance. A beautiful girl was not an unusual sight in a large crowd, especially during carnival, but this one stood out, somehow—or maybe he just really wanted something to happen, for his fortunes to finally change.
For a single, extended heartbeat, AJ sincerely didn't know what to do. It had been a long time since he had been in The Game—hell, he didn't even think that his relationship with Julie before they were married even counted; there had been attraction and then sex and then an attempt to become acquainted personally…which, in retrospect, might have explained why it was doomed in the first place. If he was honest with himself, he'd have to go all the way back to his first year at the TFN Academy and the short-lived relationship he'd had with that brunette cadet who sat next to him in the Fundamentals of Stellar Navigation course.
Fortes fortuna adiuvat, Trent reflected with a wry smile before catching Betty's eye.
“You got this?” he asked with a nod toward Mishka and her boytoy…whose name still eluded AJ's memory. The android nodded, and Trent rose to his feet, silently giving thanks to his decision to actually wear clothes designed more for appearance than utility. He weaved through the revelers, narrowly dodging one particularly intoxicated man who appeared to be one drink away from terminal alcohol poisoning. As he drew closer to the actual bar, AJ took a moment to study the woman more closely.
He would have been hard-pressed to identify her ethnicity, although he would have wagered his share of DSD, Inc. that she was at least part Chinese, perhaps second generation. The red silk dress she wore hugged her curves in an extremely flattering manner and AJ wondered at how isolated she was from the rest of the barflies. In his experience, a woman this attractive should be beating men off with a shockrod, not sitting by herself. It briefly occurred to him that she might be a professional courtesan, but even in that case, it didn't explain why she wasn't being hit on by interested men.
“A woman as beautiful as you,” he said by way of greeting, “should not be sitting alone.” Too late, AJ realized how clichéd the remark sounded, no matter that he meant it with every fiber of his being. So much for her not being hit on by desperate, lonely men, he mused with bitter humor. “Please let me buy you a drink,” he added quickly, offering her a smile and hoping that he hadn't already ruined his chances to at least get her name.
“Been practicing that one long?” the mystery woman quipped in return, with a shy smile. AJ was certain, despite the orange glow and long shadows of the sunrise, that she was blushing a little.
“If you like,” Trent replied quickly, “I could fall back on cliches like asking tu as de très beaux yeux.” He offered his hand. “I’m AJ,” he said while gesturing to the bartender. After all, she had not said no to his offer to buy her a drink.
“I don't know what you said, but I like the way it sounds. I'm Bella,” she said, smiling brightly, as she softly shook the hand before her. Bella gestured toward the empty stool next to her at the bar, and continued, “And this…is my imaginary friend, who has neglected to buy me any drinks at all, tonight, but will gladly surrender her seat to you and your gracious offer.”
“Belle?” AJ repeated, infusing the pronunciation of name with a distinctly French flair. It couldn’t hurt to use the language of his grandparents, no matter how rusty he was with it, not if she liked him complimenting her eyes. “What an amazingly apt name,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes at the private joke. He was about to speak again when the bartender—an average-looking man with the distinct greenish tinge to his lips that identified him as a sleet user—placed the coffee Trent had ordered earlier in front of him. AJ’s eyes narrowed and he frowned tightly, but he quickly pushed the expression away and turned his full attention back to his lovely companion. “My belle ami would like a drink,” he told the bartender. “Whatever she wants, place it on my account.”
AJ's belle ami politely requested a glass of wine of the bartender, as her gaze remained engaged with her new admirer. After a deliberate and undisguised glance at his lower-body, with a wry smile, she continued, “So…you're shian shen yuhangyuan, or are those mag-boots just for show?”
“Seventh generation thasiu,” AJ replied automatically as he sniffed his coffee. “My family has been in space since the Exodus,” he added. “Started out as belters in the twenty thirties, been in the Black since then.” He discreetly admired how well the dress clung to her curves as she sipped her wine. “And you, ma chérie? What brings you to Midway?”
Even before the words were out of his mouth, AJ realized that Bella was paying only partial attention to him. At first, he felt a flare of indignation that was rapidly followed by a sense of resignation—of course a woman this attractive wouldn’t be interested in him, not with the vibes he was probably sending out—but the quick, almost frantic way she kept glancing at the mirror behind the bar caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He’d seen this sort of behavior before, although admittedly, she was far more interesting to look at than Tulk was, and AJ felt his stomach drop the moment the pieces fell into place.
She was hiding from something.
Or, more likely, someone and AJ had successfully managed to put himself smack dab in the middle of something that, if past experience was any indication, would end up exploding in his face. The smart thing to do would be for him to finish his coffee and make as quick an exit as physically possible. He had no idea what or who she was running from and, knowing his less than stellar luck whenever Grimm pushed him toward something, she could end up being a serial killer on the run from the local badges, or a spy hiding out from people trying to kill her. Either way, he was humped. It would take all of thirty seconds for a talented data-slicer to get his image from any of the three security cameras positioned over the bar, and maybe less than a minute to pull his file from the Midway central computer. He blew out a frustrated breath. So much for this night ending between the sheets with a gorgeous woman.
“This is just my damned luck,” he muttered under his breath in Tharêan. It was just loud enough to draw Bella’s attention and she glanced back at him, her smile faltering slightly at the way he stared at her. “Who are you running from?” he asked softly, making a point of curling both hands around his coffee cup and keeping them in sight so she would hopefully not panic.
“Wha…no! I'm not running from anyone,” she dismissed with a chuckle, as she touched AJ's hand. “Well, I am kinda avoiding this creepy stalker-guy, but that's… So, you own your own ship, then?”
AJ sighed. Why was it that people who always needed help the most insisted otherwise? He’d been there once, so absolutely convinced that he could deal with whatever life could throw at him that he very nearly died when the universe decided to show him exactly how much crap could be slung his way in a short time.
“Bella,” he said calmly, “I can help if you let me.” Trent locked eyes with her. “And take it from someone who knows,” he added grimly, “you can’t hide from your past forever. It has a tendency to come back and ruin everything if you don’t deal with it.” Unconsciously, AJ began rubbing the barely perceptible scar on the inside of his right wrist. He saw her eyes flicker down to his hand and then back to his face. If he tried, he couldn’t identify the expression on her face. “Tell me how I can help,” Trent urged, hoping she could see the honesty in his eyes. He wasn’t sure where this sudden rush of philanthropy came from—he blamed it on his upbringing and the strict code of honor he’d learned at the Academy—but somehow, in the span of a few seconds, his priorities had shifted. No longer was this about him trying to get this woman into his bed; now, all he was really concerned about was the hint of a scared little girl he saw lurking behind her gorgeous eyes. “Tell me how I can help,” he repeated when she visibly hesitated, “and if it is within my power, I will do whatever I can.”
“I don't really…” Bella started, still smiling, as if nothing at all was wrong. “I mean…I just really want to get off this planet. Like…now…err, now-ish.”
“I can help with that,” AJ said slowly. Obviously, she wasn’t going to tell him who was chasing her, so a change of approach might be in order. “I can push up our scheduled departure if I…”
“Great! When do we go?” AJ's new client interrupted happily. “I've got my things right here…” she added, as she produced a moderate amount of luggage from around the corner of the bar, out of sight.
“Not running from someone, eh?” AJ asked, eyeing the luggage and pinning Bella with a knowing look. She gave him a smile—but no answer—and Trent sighed. Clearly, she wasn’t actually listening to him and he felt yet another ball of ice form in his stomach. Someone this desperate to get offworld… yeah, this was going to end well. Why couldn’t things just go his way for a change? Something simple like an attractive woman wanting to use him for meaningless sex instead of fleeing from some unknown threat. Sometimes, it just wasn’t worth getting up in the morning. He nodded in the direction of Mishka. “See that blond girl over there? The drunk one, wearing the blue shirt?” Bella glanced at the mirror. “That’s my ship engineer,” Trent revealed. “The rest of my crew is going to be in the same condition, so we’re not going to be getting airborne for at least a few hours.” He frowned. “And pushing forward our timetable? Well, that’s going to cost.”
“Ah…well, I'm sure we can work something out,” Bella dismissed casually. “Maybe you can show me around the ship while they get her up and running, then?” she beamed, batting her beautiful eyes at Trent, before finger-waving at the inebriated, puzzled-looking chief engineer.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” AJ asked rhetorically. He didn’t bother waiting for her response since he already suspected it would be another sidestep of the truth. “We normally berth at Tamborro,” he said as he studied the reflection of the woman beside him, “and if you’re trying to disappear, I can’t think of a better place.” As discreetly as he could manage, he reached into the sleeve of his jacket and pressed the PWR button on the portable mini-computer strapped to his left forearm. The device booted up out of stand-by mode without a sound and AJ blinked rapidly as his field of vision shifted slightly. Electronic impulses raced through the optical cable connecting the computer to the NI Jack port, and the neural implant in Trent’s brain quickly translated them into electrochemical signals that he could more easily comprehend. A semi-transparent shell menu appeared in his line of sight, quite similar to a heads-up-display, and AJ shot a quick message to the Omen, informing Tulk of the potential client as well as including a warning that said client might be bringing some … baggage. On the spur of the moment, he sent the same message to Betty, adding a request for the android to begin observing both Bella and the crowd for potential hostiles. Trent then instructed the wrist-comp to make a connection to the Midway Cortex so he could begin a discreet search for any information about the lovely woman batting her eyes at him. When he turned his eyes back to the potential client, she was still smiling at him and he wondered if she had even noticed the three seconds it had taken him to jack in.
“Shall we go?” he asked calmly as he slid off the stool he’d been sitting upon.
“Absolutely,” AJ's new client responded, as she began to gather up her luggage, which AJ automatically offered to carry for her. She kissed his cheek, and smiling, declared, “You're my Knight in Shining Armor.” |
Bella “The Client” |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 8, 2010 22:06:49 GMT -6
As they moved to the street to flag down a passing rickshaw, AJ heard a familiar, young, female voice from behind him, cursing loudly in Chinese before switching to English. He fought to keep from smiling at Mishka’s complaints about having to leave before she was ready.
A two-seater rickshaw stopped in front of the two. The driver dismounted his electric ATV and took the luggage, placing it into the cargo rack as they took their seats. Bella leaned into AJ’s arm, as the driver kicked the ATV into gear and started toward the docks. AJ leaned back in his seat, far more conscious of the warm body currently at his side than he probably should be, and discreetly sorted through the search results that only he could see, digitally floating before him; a handful of women (and one, not so certain) named Bella, but none matching his fare’s memorable description.
“So tell me about yourself, Bella,” AJ said more calmly than he actually felt. He shifted slightly in his seat to make sure his las-pistol was within easy reach just in case things went south like they usually did. Knowing his luck, a platoon of cybered-up ninjas would show up at any minute.
Which was probably why he kept his eyes on his surroundings rather than the gorgeous woman at his side.
| AJ Trent
Bella “The Client” | | The streets of Marilyn, Midway, USA | | Without warning, AJ was grabbed by the face and forcibly kissed, such that would make a whore blush. He would have savored the beautiful moment were it not for the gut-wrenching feeling that he was being hidden behind—and it wasn't working. He heard shouting in the crowded street, and felt the rickshaw stop suddenly; out of the corner of his eye, he could see the driver abandon his transport and flee. AJ separated himself from Bella’s mouth, and hesitating, turned to face the ninjas…
In the street, blocking the rickshaw's path, was a smallish, very angry-looking, well-dressed man of Chinese descent, flanked by a couple of larger, gruff-looking, and probably gun-toting, bodyguards.
The angry man spoke, looking directly at Trent, “I paid good money for that jien huo, and I will get my money's worth”
The urge to groan was powerful. Even though he barely spoke a lick of Chinese and probably understood less, AJ had heard the phrase enough times—usually in conjunction with the type of women Steg was so often drawn to—that he understood exactly what it meant … and what it implied about Bella’s line of work. If the harsh reality of life in the 'verse hadn’t long since stripped him of many of his youthful ideals, Trent might have even been vaguely disgusted with the notion of a person selling their body for hard coin, but he recalled all too well the days following his court martial and how difficult life had been for him back then. One of the very few people who had shown him the slightest bit of charity in those ‘bad old days’ had been his father’s semi-permanent concubine, a retired Companion, and without the money she’d given him out of the kindness of her heart, he likely would have never encountered Julie and the Sophie.
Okay, so the woman’s charity hadn’t entirely been a good thing, but it was the thought that counted, right?
Forcing a smile on his face, AJ immediately shot off a third message to Betty with the simple order: CONTACT POLICE NOW. At the same time, he shifted away from Bella and discreetly reached for the las-pistol at his back while taking in the hostiles arrayed against him. If it came down to a firefight, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last unless he got in a couple of lucky shots.
“Now hold on,” he said in as diplomatic a voice as possible. “Let’s discuss this like rational adults.” AJ glanced quickly at the controls of the rickshaw—the engine was still running and these things weren’t exactly hard to drive, although speed might be a problem. “No sense in letting things get out of hand,” he added while inching toward the driver’s seat. His fingers wrapped around the pistol grip of his las-pistol and he drew in a deep breath, locking eyes with the diminutive man before the device. If he was lucky, this guy was just some rich idiot who would realize that ruffled pride was less dangerous than a man who, according to his last psych profile, wasn’t entirely stable.
But he wasn’t lucky. A heartbeat later, he placed the man in front of him and felt the last vestiges of hope for a peaceful resolution wither and die. Reputed to be a Triad boss, Dan Kong wasn’t going to back down in public, not with his reputation on the line. AJ shot a quick look at Bella, who appeared more frustrated than frightened, but returned his eyes to the mobster while sending another message — GET STEG NOW!! — to Betty.
Keep him talking, Trent told himself as he locked gazes with Kong. “How much did you pay?” he asked out of nowhere.
Bella blurted out, “I'm not cheap!”
The color in Kong's face turned a shade closer to red, and temporarily forgetting there was another man involved, the diminutive mob boss yelled back at Bella in response, “Is this how the Guild trains a Companion? To abandon the client, who has paid up-front for your services, steal his shuttle, and leave him stranded? Is it? Nobody does this to Mr. Kong—nobody. You will come back with me, and you will give me what I paid for!”
“Hey! You were turned down by the Guild! I was doing you a favor! I'm not one of your goons that you can just boss around like you own me!”
AJ held his tongue as the two argued. He fought down the urge to agree with either person—it was kind of wrong to take the money and run, but if the Companion’s Guild had turned this guy down, then how did Bella get into this damned situation in the first place?—and instead kept his eyes on the two mooks. Neither had yet moved, so AJ took the opportunity to shoot an update request to Betty while easing his las-pistol out of the holster with as much casualness as he could manage. He wasn’t sure which person he’d rather see arrive first, a cop or Steg with the unnecessarily large pistol of his. Of course, if Steg actually did show up, what were the chances he’d bring Tulk or, God forbid, Em?
Maybe it would be best if the police beat him here, although he heard no distant sirens of warning, nor nearby voices of authority so he was on his own, at least, for now.
His attention snapped back to the argument as Mr. Kong ordered his henchmen to get the woman and bring her back to the shuttle. The two thugs dutifully, perhaps gleefully, moved in toward the rickshaw to carry out the order; as they had not drawn their weapons, AJ was certain they had not seen him draw his.
Without letting himself think through the repercussions, AJ brought the las-pistol up and aimed it at Kong. He glowered at the Triad boss.
“You should rethink your strategy, sir,” he said coldly.
Kong rolled his eyes in disgust. He immediately commanded his men to cease their mission, motioning for them to stop reaching for their weapons; he glowered back at AJ for a beat, then at Bella, and as he slowly backed out of the vehicle's path, he added, “This isn’t over, chwen joo…”
“Have a pleasant day, sir,” AJ said with a false smile. He kept the laser leveled on Kong’s chest while sliding out of the rickshaw and taking a step toward the ATV’s controls. The driver was still nowhere in sight, so it looked like Trent would have to drive this thing himself. Providing the situation didn’t go south, of course. Pistol still pointed at the crime-boss, he mounted the ATV and eased it forward, slowly building up speed. The aggressors made no move to stop them, and as AJ turned the rickshaw down a side-path out of their sight, he could see in the rear-view mirror Kong speaking into a communicator.
Dan Kong was right—this wasn’t over.
Trent waved a hand at the Bad Omen’s gig as it settled overhead, and signaled for Steg to put it down in a nearby parking area. As AJ stepped off the rickshaw and helped Bella down, Steg stepped out of The Coffin, armed to the teeth. “We clear?” he enquired, almost disappointed there wasn’t any imminent violence.
“Clear for now,” AJ replied. “I’m sure that’ll change, though, since I went and pissed off a Triad boss for a pretty face.” Steg gave him an incredulous look before shaking his head, though whether it was in amusement or disgust Trent couldn’t tell. Frowning, AJ crossed his arms and pinned Bella with an unamused look. “I think we need to talk, ma chérie,” he said softly. “And I think I deserve the truth since your little escapade may very well have put my crew in danger.”
Bella sat down hard on The Coffin’s open cargo ramp, sighed, and looked up at AJ, apology in her eyes. “Look…I sometimes take these clients that the Guild turns down, ’cause I could use the money, and well…everybody deserves a good time now and then, even if they don’t part their hair like the Guild wants. This was supposed to be an easy job—I spend the night with this rich guy on some beach. A little wine, a little hanky-panky, a little sand in my thong, and out by morning. He even arranged for the transport. But sometimes these things just go bad. He starts yelling at his bodyguard because he thinks he’s flirting with me, and starts getting violent—then he turns on me like it’s my fault. I was scared. So, I ran. Now I'm stranded here, and I just want nothing more than to leave, and forget the whole thing ever happened.” Trent could almost see a tear forming as she added, “You’ll help me, won’t you? I just want to leave this place.”
AJ truly wanted to believe her, but something about the too-rehearsed way she spun her tale nagged at him, like she wasn't as helpless as her story would suggest. Story of my life, he reflected bitterly.
“That’s a good story,” Trent said after a moment of silence, “and the crocodile tears were a particularly nice touch.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “But is any part of it actually true?” he asked with growing annoyance that wasn’t entirely feigned. “I just put my entire rutting crew in danger with the Triads to help you out for nothing but empty promises and still, all that comes out of your mouth are lies,” he growled before giving Steg a look. “You ready to dust off?” he asked with a scowl. “Since we’re apparently not going to get the actual truth any time soon, I think we’re done here.”
“I can’t help it if you don’t believe me,” Bella responded softly, “and I’m truly sorry to have dragged you and your crew into my mess…” She sniffed, as if struggling with tears before drawing in a deep breath. When she looked up, her entire demeanor had transformed into ... something else. “But my promises,” she said, her voice husky and oh so seductive, “are not empty.” Very subtly, she arched her back, flipping the hair off her neck and biting her lower lip as she looked AJ straight in the eyes. “Surely we can work out some sort of … compensation for the extra trouble.” She smiled – or smirked, Trent wasn’t sure which – ever so slightly and he knew she had seen through his ruse. “I think you deserve it,” she added seductively.
AJ could just hear Steg mumble, “We are so humped.”
To say that it was…difficult to form coherent sentences while she looked at him like she was would be an understatement of almost Biblical proportions. AJ wet his lips before forcing himself to look away from her eyes and the carnal rewards promised there. In an attempt to regain control, he inhaled deeply—which turned out to be something of a mistake as all he could smell was her. Trent wasn’t sure if it was some sort of secret, mind-controlling perfume issued to Companions by the Guild, or his three-year plus fidelity to a dead relationship, or some combination of those factors, but the righteous indignation he’d felt over Bella’s manipulations faltered. Sure, she was probably lying through her teeth, but what was the likelihood that Kong would let this go, especially since AJ had faced him down in the street in front of witnesses? Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Trent knew that he was already knee deep in this damned mess.
So he sighed.
“I know I’m going to regret this,” AJ muttered before jerking his thumb in the direction of the gig. “We berth at Tamborro Station,” he said before glancing in Steg’s direction. “Keep your eyes open. I have no doubt this is going to come back and bite us in the ass.” Without waiting for a reply, Trent reached for Bella’s luggage, still strapped to the cargo rack at the back of rickshaw.
“You won’t regret it,” Bella beamed, as she jumped up, rushed over and kissed AJ on the cheek, before returning to the vehicle and taking a seat. | Dan Kong “Bella's Ex-Client”
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:16:18 GMT -6
A few minutes passed, as The Coffin returned to the Southpointe Marina. Steg expertly guided the gig into its docking position with the Bad Omen, and instinctively worked his way through the post-flight checklist, sealing and securing the craft in place. He let down the cargo ramp, which opened into the ship’s engineering section. Tulk was waiting at the lock to greet the incoming crewmen, with a nervous smile. Steg gathered up their new fare's baggage, to get her set up in Betty's quarters, as instructed by “the Captain”; Bella followed just behind him, as AJ helped her down the ramp.
Tulk, momentarily stunned at the sight of their passenger, quickly regained himself and caught AJ by the arm as he passed, and growled under his breath, "What the hell are you doing, man? Are we taking on passengers without consulting the other partners, now?"
Trent blew out a bitter breath and sagged against the bulkhead. “Things got out of hand,” he admitted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I could have left her there, but the abruti she was running from pissed me off so I kind of stopped thinking.” He shook his head in self-reproof. “I should have just shot that idiot when I had the chance.” Glancing up, AJ was surprised to see that the anger on Tulk’s face had transformed to something that actually looked like dark amusement. “It’s been a long time since I made stupid decisions because of a pretty woman,” Trent muttered, “so I guess I was overdue.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Tulk said. “How bad is it?”
“Triad,” AJ replied flatly. He winced at worry that flickered across Tulk’s face. “Could you put out some feelers, maybe try to find out how deep I managed to dig our hole with this Kong jackass?” He frowned. “And while you’re at it,” he added, “see what you can find out about our…guest. See if there are any more surprises in store for us.”
“That wouldn’t be Dan Kong, would it?” Tulk asked.
“Yeah…at least, I think so. Problem?” AJ responded.
Tulk paused for a beat, and replied “Maybe, maybe not. If it’s the one I’m thinking of, he’s a local Triad vanguard—runs their operations on most of Midway, but not much activity offworld. Depends on how pissed off you got him…”
“He looked pretty mad after I made him back down,” AJ said. He winced. “In public.” Tulk face-palmed.
“Hope she’s worth it,” he muttered as he headed toward the ladder leading to quarters, pausing only long enough to give AJ another look and a darkly amused shake of his head.
“Yeah,” Trent said softly. “So do I.”
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling without actually seeing it while he tried to figure out what to do next. Grimacing, he double-checked his messages—still nothing from Betty, so he shot another update request while firmly suppressing the sudden flare of worry that this mess had already put Mishka in danger—before pushing himself off the wall and heading toward the the front of the ship. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to get the damned truth out of Bella.
As he passed into the common area that connected the engineering section to the crew section, he was interrupted by the ship’s XO, Ty, poking his head down through the access hatch that led to the conning tower above. “Hey, Cap’n. Started pre-flight. Got a storm coming in shortly. Steaks are in the cooler—first-come, first served, so get ’em while you can. Mish and Betty and…that other guy just walked in—should be on their way up,” he informed, before popping back up to resume his duties. Trent started to frown and demand to know why they were bringing someone aboard without first consulting him … but quickly bit his tongue and instead simply nodded; after what he’d just pulled with Bella, it would be the height of hypocrisy to say anything. Still, he’d have to find out from Mish later exactly why Gavin or Melvin or whatever the hell his name turned out to be was on the ship.
AJ could hear some stumbling around from below in the cargo hold, and the sounds of Mishka and Betty arguing about whether or not it was a good idea to be climbing the access ladder while trying to finish off an ice-planet. “I’m here! Everybody clear outta my gorram engine room!” she announced, speech slurred somewhat—apparently the sober-up pills had not quite kicked in yet.
| AJ Trent
Tulk | As AJ continued forward, he encountered Steg on his way astern, giving Bella the quick tour of the ship and explaining “the rules,” in a very military manner, nevermind the lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Bella was playing the innocent landlubber, though AJ knew this could not be her first trip aboard a space vessel. | “I’ll take it from here,” Trent said the moment they noticed his approach. To his utter disgust, Steg’s wry nod had the exact same amount of black humor in it that Tulk had worn minutes earlier, prompting AJ to wonder if he was ever going to be able to live this one down. Usually, he was the level-headed one.
“Mish get back?” the burly former Marine asked as he placed Bella’s luggage next to the hatch. AJ nodded.
“Brought that Gavin guy with her,” he replied.
“Gavin? Thought his name was Devon.” Steg glowered. “If he’s stickin’ around,” he said, “then I think we need to let him know the rules ‘bout dating our Mish.” He stalked off, trailing a cloud of smoke from his cigarette.
“Should I feel threatened?” Bella asked with a smile. “I thought you only had eyes for me.”
“These are your quarters,” AJ said, without bothering to reply. He kicked open the hatch, revealing the ladder leading down. “And we still need to discuss your destination.” Using only one hand—the other was holding the bag—he climbed down into the small living area. Bella was bare seconds behind him. “Tamborro Station isn’t normally the destination for Companions,” he pointed out as he stored her luggage. “Providing, of course,” he said flatly, “that you are a Companion.” Her eyes widened and AJ held up a hand. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said before she could speak, no doubt to spin another elaborate tale of woe, “but in my experience, a Companion never needs money.” He crossed his arms. “And they certainly don’t accept clients that the Guild turns down.”
“Companions in this part of the ’verse, these days, often find themselves needing money—which leads to taking in less-than-acceptable clients from time to time.” Bella answered, with an almost sad look, reflecting on some, no doubt, unhappy times—real or not, AJ couldn't say. After a slight pause, she switched to a happier tone. “Tamborro will do just fine. I know some people there. I…”
“Pardon me, Captain,” Betty interrupted, as she climbed down the ladder into the quarters. “There is someone outside the cargo bay requesting to speak to you immediately—said it can’t wait. It’s Captain Marceau.”
“Did she say what she wanted?” AJ asked, unsure what to make of the sudden burst of annoyance he felt at Julie’s interruption. The last thing he needed right now was another one of her mind games.
“No. Just that she needed to speak to you now, in person,” the artificial-person replied.
“Wonderful.” AJ forced a smile that he really didn’t feel onto his face. “Please make yourself comfortable,” he instructed Bella. “I will let you know once we are underway.” He just noticed Bella’s slightly raised eyebrow, as if she were studying AJ’s reaction to the news, before he nodded to Betty and quickly climbed up the ladder.
| Steg
Bella | He had barely taken two steps away from the hatch leading down to the guest quarters when Mishka came barreling through the doorway of the engineering compartment. Without warning, she launched herself at him, wrapping both arms around his body and hugging him so hard that Trent almost couldn’t breathe.
“I’m so proud of you!” Mish exclaimed as she clung to him. Tears glittered in her eyes and AJ could see that she was still fairly inebriated, no matter the sober-up pills. “You’re finally moving on from that evil, evil woman!” She sniffled and rapidly blinked her eyes, as if to ward off a crying fit.
“It’s not really like that, Mish,” AJ started to say, but she waved off his explanation.
“Oh, pish,” she interrupted happily. “I saw you flirting with her at the bar,” the still intoxicated woman said with a bright grin. “You never flirt!” Abruptly, she let go of Trent and gave him a shove toward the ladder. “Now go tell Cap’n Crazy Eyes to stop pestering you while I speak with your new bao bay.” Ducking around Betty who now stood in front of the hatch leading down to the guest quarters, Mish half-climbed, half-slid down the ladder. “Hi there!” she exclaimed, pulling the hatch shut behind her and locking it.
“What the hell did you give her?” AJ demanded of the android. He took a step toward the now secured hatch, wincing at the peal of laughter he heard from the two women within. Did he even want to know? “She’s never this hyper!”
“On the contrary,” Betty replied calmly, “my charge always reacts this way to anti-intoxicants. In one hour, the excess energy will be burned off and she will return to baseline normal.” When AJ hesitated—who was more important right now? Dealing with Julie or with the two…laughing women currently ensconced within the guest quarters?—the android smiled. “I believe Captain Marceau is still waiting.” AJ grimaced but turned away nonetheless.
Steg was sitting on a large crate inside the cargo bay when Trent arrived. The ex-Marine was still heavily armed—obviously, he’d taken AJ’s warnings seriously—and was keeping an eye on the marina from his vantage point. As AJ approached, he smirked.
Trent was very much getting sick of that expression.
He said nothing as he walked toward the partially raised port-side cargo door though, no matter that his head was beginning to pound. Right now, all he wanted was for this day to be over.
“All right, Julie,” he said as he stepped out of the Omen. “What do you want?”
| Betty
Mishka |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:16:55 GMT -6
The late-day sun was now obscured by the clouds, the harbinger of the storm to come, as if to mirror AJ’s current demeanor. The docks smelled of seawater and impending rain.
As AJ looked up at his wife — ex-wife he reminded himself — he saw the “lucky man” he had seen her with earlier in the day, leaning against a pillar a few meters behind her, observing the conversation intently while trying to look like he wasn’t.
“So, leaving the party early, I see?” Julie asked casually.
“You didn’t call me out here ‘immediately’ for small-talk, I’m guessing” AJ replied dryly. He was suddenly tired of this game and wanted nothing more than to retreat to his cabin for a few hours where he could shut out the universe. Trent’s fingers itched — it had been too long since he’d relaxed with his violin — and his headache intensified. Idly, he glanced at the man Julie had brought with him and wondered if he should warn the man about the walking, talking insanity that was Juliette Marceau. No, he decided a heartbeat later. This guy was still sort of competition, even if AJ had long since given up on the chance of reconciliation between him and his former wife.
“Right, to it, eh? Yeah …” Julie paused, sheepishly looking around as if the “right words” were written on the docks somewhere in this vicinity. “Look … I thought it was only fair that you heard this directly from me, and not from someone else, but, uh … well, I’m engaged now.” She flashed up her left hand, to show the glittering proof of her revelation. “So … there you are. I just thought you should know,” she said, almost apologetically.
It was just too much. AJ rocked back on his heels and began to laugh as the accumulated stress of the last few weeks finally found release. He sagged back against the bulkhead of the Omen, giggling so hard that he thought his chest was going to explode. For a long heartbeat, Julie looked at him like she thought he had gone mad — which only made AJ laugh that much harder — but her expression hardened when he kept giggling. She shot a glance at her new lover — fiancé? — and Trent drew in a steadying breath when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right.
“You’re actually serious,” he realized with growing surprise. Until this moment, he thought it was another of her attention-getting schemes intended to cause AJ to start chasing after her once again, or maybe a practical joke gone awry. Sure, Julie could be a little promiscuous at times, but getting married? After a week? The math didn’t add up.
With that in mind, he really studied the new man in her life. Under AJ’s scrutiny, the unnamed fiancé straightened, flashing Trent a smile that was obviously intended to reassure him but utterly failed to do so. Instead, the self-assured, sunny and noticeably angst-free disposition of the man caused all sorts of alarms to start sounding. This guy was not Julie’s type. At all. She was drawn to men who were so screwed up that they needed someone like her to help them wade out of the muck they found themselves in, not well-dressed jackasses with smug smiles and easy manners. Those kind of men she loathed.
“Devyn Malkin,” the new guy offered, extending his hand and taking a step forward. AJ stared at it and then intentionally turned his full attention back to Julie. Shock and anger warred with concern, and Trent struggled to find the right words. The very last thing he wanted to do right now was to piss her off.
“This isn’t like you,” he murmured softly, his words pitched for her ears only. He automatically slipped into French as he usually did when speaking to her privately. “You never act without thinking it through —”
“I did with you,” Julie interrupted. As usual, her French was far superior to his, but AJ kept talking, as if she had not said anything.
“— and you’ve known this guy for how long? A week?” He shook his head. “Tell truth to me,” AJ implored, intentionally fouling up the syntax. It was an old code of theirs, from before they even started sleeping together, and how she responded would tell him a great deal about whether she was being pressured or not.
“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Julie mused with a smile. “I’m fine,” she added. “Not under duress, not being forced into something I don’t want, not losing my mind.” AJ bit back an instinctive response and fought down the urge to lose his temper. He’d never been able to tell when she was lying to him, no matter his intimate knowledge of her body language, and this was no different. As far as he could tell, she was being completely honest.
“Then congratulations are in order,” he said stiffly, sliding back into Amerish and including the jackass. On instinct, he flashed a sensory image of Malkin to his wristcomp, before once more turning his eyes to Julie. “If you need me,” he said, “you know where I’m at.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned away. As he turned, his attention disengaged from the confrontation with Julie, it struck him that the two burly men in sunglasses about fifty meters down the pier were not fishing.
“Steg,” he called out softly, doing his best to pretend that he had not noticed them.
“Already got ‘em,” came the instant reply. “If ya want,” he added from his place of pseudo-concealment, “I can take ‘em out for ya.” With a broad grin, Steg patted the cloth covering one of his numerous longarms.
“No,” AJ said quickly. “We need confirmation that they’re actually scum before you start shooting.” He strode to the nearest intercom and depressed the transmit button. “Ty, check the externals,” he ordered. “We got some potential hostiles about five-zero meters at our nine o’clock. See if you can’t get a solid image of them and then send it to Tulk with an update.”
“On it, sir.”
“Look for more of ‘em while you’re at it,” Steg added.
“How long until we’re ready to lift off?” Trent asked as he glanced down at the wrist-comp and called up the flash-image of Julie’s fiancé. Malkin’s face hung suspended in the air in front of him, the smirk on the other man’s face almost mocking him, and AJ felt a flicker of trepidation. Was it wrong to snoop in Julie’s life like this? They weren’t a couple anymore and he no longer had any claim to her, no matter that there was … something about this guy Trent didn’t trust.
Of course you don’t trust him, AJ snarled at himself. You don’t trust anyone she sleeps with. He shook his head.
But still initiated a Cortex search of anyone matching the man’s description named ‘Malkin.’
Abruptly, he realized that Steg was looking at him with bemusement and that he had completely missed Coleman’s reply. He flushed — damn that woman; he had enough to worry about right now, especially if there were Triads outside the ship watching them — and grimaced.
“Say again, Ty,” he ordered. “I missed that part.”
“Looks like just the two of them. One of them has an imager. They’re just watching.” Ty repeated.
The Cortex search came up with a number of hits, all very “normal” — social networking site entries, microblog entries, community volunteering work, an insurance business where he was self-employed, a little photo-modeling — everything any decent woman could want. AJ could almost hear Tulk in his mind, looking over his shoulder and saying, “Too good.”
“How long until we’re ready to lift off?” Trent asked again. He did his best to ignore Steg’s sidelong look since it implied — or at least AJ inferred — that Ty had already answered that question while Trent was spacing out.
“We could wrap up pre-flight in the air,” Ty responded hesitantly. A strict, by-the-book kind of guy, he hated not following standard procedure, no matter the necessity at times. “You want me to go ahead and get vectors from OTC?”
“Push it through,” AJ said automatically. “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome and would really like to avoid getting shot out while we’re on vacation,” he added tightly before making a beeline for the ladder.
| AJ Trent
Julie “Ex-Wife”
Devyn Malkin “Ex-Wife's New Fiancé” | “All hands,” Ty’s voice announced over the PA, “rig for departure.” The formality of the announcement wasn’t necessary or even all that common, but was something Coleman often did when they had guests aboard the Omen so as to give off a sense of professionalism. “Report to your stations.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts and observe the no-smoking sign.” Tulk added over the PA. AJ could almost feel the scolding look Ty was, no doubt, giving Tulk, who was sitting beside him in the tower.
AJ passed Mishka on his way to the pilot’s station — she flashed him a bright, knowing smile that faltered the moment she caught sight of his expression — but kept moving, knowing that if he made the mistake of stopping, her curiosity would outweigh her shyness. Right now, he had no desire at all to field her worried questions, so he sealed the flight ops hatch behind him, something he rarely did apart from combat conditions. As he walked through the tunnel-like corridor leading to the actual pilot’s station, AJ killed the power to his wrist-comp and pulled it off his forearm, detaching it from the optical cable secured to the NI Jack port in his arm and placing it in the small cargo netting on the back of the pilot’s seat. He dropped into the worn, leather chair before the flight board a moment later. Instantly detecting his presence, the various consoles lit up and Trent gave them all a quick once-over to make sure that everything was operating correctly.
“Flight ops are go,” he stated calmly while attaching the optical cable to the control console. The HUD that snapped into existence in front of his field of vision was completely different than the shell menu he associated with the wrist-comp. To his eyes, holographic displays seemed to hang in the air around him and he tapped several of the non-existent panels with his right hand; the resulting electrical impulses were translated by the NI Jack into commands, prompting the Omen’s systems to respond.
“Engines are go,” Mishka confirmed over the comms.
“Sensors are go,” Tulk responded.
“Weapons are go,” Steg added.
“Comms are go,” Ty continued.
A subtle rumble echoed through the ship as the primary maneuver drives to begin cycling up. “Mish,” AJ said as his read-outs flashed a warning, “Two is running hot.”
“That’s ‘cause I need to replace the tertiary pulse injector,” came her prompt — and brusque — response over the com-line. “I already told you about that.” AJ shook his head.
“Is it going to be a problem?” he asked.
“Bite my ass! Just fly the damned ship, AJ,” Mishka retorted. “Let me worry about actually keeping her in the air.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Trent said with a smile. “Flight ops standing by for exit vectors,” he declared while glancing up at the open viewport in front of him. Lightning crawled across the sky as the storm drew closer to the city and, to AJ, it perfectly matched his mood: chaotic, erratic and just a little explosive.
The board in front of him chirped, informing him that Midway’s orbital traffic control had uploaded their approved flight path.
Ty commed, “We are cleared for orbital insertion. Lift off and proceed on a zero-niner-zero to one-hundred kay.”
AJ winced — on such short notice, OTC had their exit vector taking them through the storm rather than around it — and quickly input the exit vector. He made a few minor adjustments to avoid the worst of the downpour and keyed the intra-ship line.
“Lift off in four, three, two, one.”
With a barely discernible jolt, the Omen climbed out of the bay. Water streamed off its hull as AJ fed more power to the maneuvering drive and demanded more speed. The resulting acceleration pushed him back into his seat before the inertial dampeners compensated, and, for the first time in days, Trent felt like he had finally come home. He frowned at the dradis silhouette of the storm.
“Stand by for some chop,” he added.
They reached the storm in mere seconds and the turbulence wasn’t as bad as AJ had feared. The auto-tint feature on his viewport kicked in immediately, protecting him from the worst of the lightning strikes that flashed around the ship. Across the intra-ship line, he heard Mish cursing softly — it was in Chinese, so he didn’t know what she was saying — and was very tempted to do a barrel roll just to see how she’d react. The urge passed a moment later and AJ focused his full attention on the controls in front of him.
It took only a few minutes to break atmo, and AJ heaved a sigh of relief once he saw the glittering starfield in front of him. He knew it was ridiculous but, for some reason, he could never quite get comfortable when he was dirtside, no matter how pretty or scenic the planet happened to be. Now that he was back in space, he could feel some of the tension that had tightened up his back loosen slightly.
Satisfied at their current status, AJ released control to the auto-pilot which immediately began maneuvering the Omen into position for the transfer to station intercept orbit. “Fifteen minutes to orbit,” AJ announced over the comm-line, before leaning back into the chair. He stared at the empty blackness yawning before him for long moments, wincing the second he realized that he was thinking about Julie and Bella and that Triad guy and that Malkin jackass.
He held off for as long as possible — which, as it turned out, wasn’t actually that long — before composing a quick vmail to Desi. As the only person that Julie actually listened to, Sophie’s medic was the best option to get actual intel about this sudden, out-of-nowhere marriage; sure, Desi was very hard to interact with — the woman had no social graces at all, and her pessimistic attitude was something that could only be taken in small doses — but AJ was actually counting on her unapologetic bluntness for a change. If anyone in Julie’s crew knew what was really going on, it would be Desi. Need to talk re: Malkin & J, he wrote. Doesn’t pass the smell test for me. Need your advice? Trent reread the message and then sent it.
Now, he waited. | Tulk
Steg
Mishka
Ty
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:17:42 GMT -6
The minutes flew by, and AJ felt the engines kick off as they reached their intended orbit, one hundred kilometers above the planet, and the events of the day. He checked the displays, did a little math in his head, and announced, “Twenty minutes until next burn.”
“You are now free to move about the cabin, and the no-smoking sign has been extinguished.” Tulk announced on the PA, ribbing Ty just a little more, no doubt, earning a second dirty look.
“Don't mind if I do,” Steg added.
Not wanting to listen to the idle chatter of the crew, AJ triggered the ‘silent’ mode on his com-line; if something came up that was important, they could still contact him and Ty knew his moods well enough to know that he just needed some space — an ironic turn of phrase, he thought — to unwind. Despite his best efforts, though, he wasn’t able to fully relax: his brain was too busy, too distracted. Muttering a soft curse, AJ pushed himself up out of the chair and reached for the sealed case strapped to the wall on his left just beside the open hatchway. He fell back into his seat, popped open the violin case, extracted the instrument and the accompanying bow, and began to play.
It wasn’t his best effort — he blamed that on the various problems piling up on him, whether they were in the form of an attractive but frustratingly duplicitous woman currently berthed in the guest quarters, or the crime boss he had pissed off to defend her questionable honor, or possibly in the shape of the woman he had once loved so passionately but now could barely look at without wanting to punch something — but it distracted him long enough to regain his equilibrium and begin rebuilding the mask he wore every day. The urge to raid Steg’s stash of alcohol was intense, moreso than it had been in years, and AJ channeled all of his angst into the only possession of his that came from his old life. Once, this violin had belonged to his grandmother, and when the Normandy incident imploded his life around him, he thought that he’d never see it again, would never hear the beautiful sounds it could make.
And then, only weeks after he signed onto the Sophie and started to rebuild his life, two years to the day after the court-martial, it came back into his life.
No one was quite sure how his grandmother had located him — AJ suspected that it was probably Grimm playing one of his incomprehensible games — and she passed away months before it ever arrived, but he treasured it with every fiber of his being. It was a reminder of happier days, of a time when he’d foolishly thought that a man’s family would never abandon them, no matter the reason. Oh, how naïve he had been then.
“You play beautifully.” Bella’s voice caused him to jump and he spun the chair around to find her leaning against the wall just inside of the entrance iris. AJ frowned.
“I thought I sealed that hatch,” he muttered. Bella smiled.
“You did,” she replied. “Mish unsealed it and strongly … urged me to speak with you.” She smiled and the simple action sent a pang of longing through him; how long had it been since … no, AJ quickly decided, cutting off that line of thought like a diseased limb. Best not to go there, no matter how tempting. Seemingly unaware of his thoughts, Bella continued. “Her exact words were ‘nobody aboard will be happy when he’s being Cap’n Grumpypants so go cheer him up.’” AJ’s lips twitched at the very Mishka-like remark, but the black mood threatening to overwhelm him pushed away the moment. “I see what she meant, though,” Bella continued with a slight frown that did nothing to mar her appearance. She inched closer, looking around the cockpit quickly before returning her full attention to him. “Mish said that was your ex you were talking to at the docks. It looked like bad news.”
“That’s none of your business, ma’am,” AJ said sharply in response.
“Wuo duh tian ah!” Bella exclaimed, as a very real look of concern, bordering on horror, washed across her beautiful face. “She said it was bad, but I don’t think she knows the half of it. And here I thought I had a chance …” She paused in thought for a moment, and then slipped closer, which was something of a feat since there wasn’t much room in the already cramped pilot’s station in the first place. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can start by telling me the truth,” AJ replied crisply. “We’re putting our entire livelihood on the line to help you out,” he growled, “and so far, you’ve shown me that you’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth.” He didn’t mean for the words to come out quite so bitter or sharp, but the mounting problems they potentially faced seemed to short-circuit his self-control.
AJ started to put away the violin, but Bella interrupted, touching his arm. “May I?” she asked politely. AJ was reluctant to allow anyone to touch his grandmother’s violin, but he relented, in spite of himself, and handed it over. Bella glanced around for somewhere to sit before visibly brightening and giving him the same look she’d shot him earlier. Before AJ could react, she slinked forward and took a seat on his lap. “I know just what you need,” she remarked, squirming slightly as if she were trying to get comfortable instead of finding a deliciously effective way of distracting him.
AJ swallowed. And completely forgot what he wanted to ask.
She put the bow to the strings and, on instinct, AJ used the neural interface jack to trigger the ‘record’ option. The moment Bella began to play, he knew it was the right decision. True to his admittedly limited knowledge of Companions’ training, she played very well, and he recognized it as a selection from Chausson's “Poème,” both beautiful and very sad.
As she lost herself in the music, AJ honestly didn’t know how to respond. He swallowed — she was far better than he could ever hope to be, perhaps even as good as his grandmother had been, and he suddenly felt embarrassed to have even thought he knew what he was doing. Rather than opening his mouth and making a fool of himself, he simply sat there and allowed himself to enjoy her craft, knowing that he would treasure this moment of perfect beauty until his dying day.
And, thanks to the NI Jack, he’d be able to relive it whenever he wanted to, complete with the appropriate sensations. Sometimes, life could surprise him.
“My grandmother once told me,” he said into the silence once she lowered the bow, “that a person’s choice of music says a lot about them.”
“Is that why you chose Rachmaninoff’s ‘Vocalise’?” she asked wryly. “A more depressing piece I’ve never heard.” She turned her head and, when she spoke, he could taste her breath. “Feel better now?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” AJ replied honestly. He smiled and it didn’t feel forced. “Thank you,” he said. They sat there in silence for a moment and Trent let himself luxuriate in the feel of her body. To his utter surprise, he found himself speaking. “Julie and I … we never really made sense, even when we were together.” He inhaled the smell of Bella’s hair — orchids and fire, oddly enough — and closed his eyes. “I think we still love each other,” he mused, half to himself, “but we’re not in love with each other.” A soft chirp from the flight console snapped him out of the unusual moment of introspection and he frowned. “How did you do that?” he wondered aloud, though there was no anger or heat behind it. “I never talk about her. Not with anyone!”
“Trade secret,” Bella answered. “Did it help?” AJ nodded.
“It did.” He watched as she returned the violin to its case, her every movement a symphony of grace. “Thank you,” he repeated before smiling. “But this doesn’t get you out of…”
| AJ Trent
Bella | The crackle of the comms nearly startled him as Tulk interrupted, “Cap’n, we have a problem.”
“There's a switch,” AJ responded sarcastically. “What is it?”
“Duty calls,” Bella said quietly, as she smiled, and slinked back out of AJ’s lap and started back down the corridor.
Tulk explained, “Got company — sensor contact dirtside of us, on an intercept vector. OTC says they’re showing no traffic on DRADIS. It’s comin’ up fast.”
“Battle stations,” AJ declared instantly, swiveling the seat around to face the control console once more. Instantly, the semi-holographic displays that only he could see darkened as his order triggered a number of automatic secondary protocols. The pilot’s hatch sealed with a loud hiss and Trent could hear Bella mutter a curse. “Steg, weapons hot,” AJ continued, “but do not shoot first.”
“Well … shit,” the former Marine grumbled, but Trent ignored him.
“Ty, contact OTC and request assistance.” AJ manipulated the controls and let his eyes roam over the various displays. “I need a sensor profile of the hostile, Tulk.”
“Working on it.”
“Mish—” The engineer responded before AJ could finish his instructions.
“Ready for combat maneuvers.”
“AJ…” Bella’s concerned voice caused Trent to glance back. “The door…”
“Is automatically sealed during battle situations,” AJ said. “You’re stuck in here.” He smiled at her wide-eyed reaction. “See those straps on the corridor wall? Buckle up.” His momentary flash of humor faded. “I’m still waiting, Tulk.”
“Very hard to spot. I’m having trouble identifying it — it's a miracle I saw it at all. Stealth, maybe. Hunter-killer drone?” Tulk said. “Bearing … one-seven-niner, mark-four-five. Two-twenty seconds to intercept.”
“OTC still thinks it’s a sensor-ghost, but they’re alerting Patrol,” Ty added.
“Yeah, right,” Tulk interjected, sarcastically. “Probably paid off to look the other way.”
“I don't see a gorram thing!” Steg exclaimed. “Highlight it.” Tulk muttered something under his breath, but a moment later, a semi-transparent bracket appeared on the sensor screen, although Trent couldn’t make anything out in the area. He checked his MFDs, and suddenly realized that the intercept node would occur directly over Marilyn. They want to send a message, he thought to himself.
“Steg,” he called out, “If Tulk can’t lock-on, you may have to do this manually. Think you can hit it?”
“If I don’t, you won’t be able to make a fuss. Point me at ’em” Steg replied.
“Orienting retrograde,” AJ informed, as he pitched the ship over opposite to their direction of travel, bringing the fore-mounted gun-turret to bear on the attacker. He lamented that Mishka had not been able to figure out what prevented the cockpit blast-shield from fully closing, as he peered out through the uncomfortably-vulnerable open glass between himself and the danger.
“Maybe an ASAT? One-eighty seconds to intercept. Permission to go active and lock target?” Tulk asked, as use of the active DRADIS required to lock up the target would signal their exact location to it as well. In these situations, nanoseconds mattered and AJ responded without thought.
“Granted.” Inhaling deeply, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder and met Bella’s worried eyes. “When this is over,” he said flatly, “you and I are going to have a long talk about honesty.”
“Pinging target now,” Tulk declared over the comline.
“Mish, prepare for zulu burn on my mark,” AJ called out.
“I have it,” Tulk relayed. “Flakker. Stealth-coated. Hasn't deployed yet.”
“Gorram it all! I frakkin’ hate those things!” Steg exclaimed in response. “AJ?”
AJ was certainly familiar with the improvised missiles from his pirate-hunting time in the Navy — cheap anti-satellite missiles cobbled together from spare parts and legally-obtained materials, they were popularly used by pirates and criminal gangs. Little more than rocket motors attached to a tube full of improvised anti-aerospace flak munitions, with a rudimentary passive detection and guidance system, or sometimes flown in manually by remote, proximity-fused and rigged to go off even when shot — hard to track, hard to escape, hard to deploy effectively (or safely), and especially, hard to trace after use. If you knew where your target would be, and you could ambush it with one of these weapons, you could generally rest assured that the target would be limping home, leaking important fluids and gasses, if it wasn’t left drifting.
But Tulk had spotted it early. The Bad Omen had a fighting chance. AJ had to make the snap decision whether or not to fire on the missile, risking some flak damage, or attempting to evade it, risking a close-hit.
“Hold your fire,” he ordered sharply, reaching for the flight controls. “Mish, stand by. All hands, brace for impact.” He made some rapid mental calculations and counted down. “Zulu burn … go!” AJ commanded.
Long seconds before the improvised missile could impact, the Omen’s maneuvering drive flared; the engines howled in protest as AJ demanded more power than normal, but obeyed, no doubt thanks to Mishka’s technical wizardry. With a hard jerk that slammed him deeper into his seat, the ship sprang up and twisted over the oncoming missile to keep guns oriented on the threat. Moving too quickly to course correct, the flakker streaked by so quickly that it was little more than a barely noticeable blur against the backdrop of space.
“Comm-LADAR,” AJ said without thinking, falling back into old patterns without thinking, “log the shark’s vector and shoot it to OTC.” He glanced quickly over his multi-function displays and bit back a sharp curse; thanks to the emergency maneuver, their new orbit was off-plane and eccentric — it was going to take some effort to correct their orbit. Shaking his head, he decided to simply adjust the entire flight plan. Sure, it would take longer to reach their destination, but at least it might reduce the chances of a second attack. And speaking of…
“Any signs of additional ordnance?” he asked.
“Sure as hell hope not,” Mish grumbled across the comline. “You just blew out a half dozen buffer panels with that gorram maneuver.”
“Better than gettin’ smeared across the sky,” Steg interjected. “I sure as hell ain’t complainin’.”
“Neither am I,” Bella murmured from behind him.
“Cut the chatter,” AJ snapped. He was already calculating the best way to get back on course. “Tulk, report.”
“No further contacts. Looks like they bet it all on that one,” Tulk responded.
“OTC says they’re gonna divert traffic around the area until Patrol can confirm the ordinance is no longer a threat,” Ty added. Steg’s snort of disgust sounded unnecessarily loud over the comline.
“Now they show up,” he groused. “Our tax credits at work.”
“All right,” AJ decided after a moment of consideration. “Stand down from battle stations. Damage reports as soon as possible.” He paused for a moment, considering their options and the level of the threat. “Steg, stay in the turret for now.”
“You think they’ll make another attempt?”
“Don’t know yet.” Trent half-turned in his seat to give Bella a long look. “So far, they’ve gone through a lot of trouble to sooth a damaged ego,” he said, staring at the raven-haired Companion with as an impassive look as he could manage. “Ty,” he continued, “shoot Patrol a copy of our gun camera footage so they know we’re the victims here.”
“On it.” | Tulk
Steg
Mishka
Ty
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:18:14 GMT -6
AJ gave his MFDs another quick once-over before stating, “I’m going to recalculate intercept orbit. Relay non-critical reports to XO.” With a flick of his wrist, he deactivated the intraship line.
“That’s it?” Bella asked, drawing alongside AJ’s chair. “They shoot a missile at us and we just ignore it?”
“Not much we can do about it,” Trent replied. “We don’t have the ability to backtrack the flakker’s telemetry,” he continued. “And even if we did, it would have been fired from an abandoned island in the middle of nowhere.” He looked up at her. “I think you owe me an explanation,” he said flatly. “The truth, this time.”
“There’s nothing more to tell…” Bella explained, looking off, in reflection. “I took the job. He freaked out. So, maybe I shouldn’t have winked at the guard — he was cute…” She smiled, chuckling to herself a little “…and it’s not like we were under contract or anything. He had no right to order me around. Clearly I was right to run away — the man’s psychotic! How fortunate I was that you came along to my rescue.” She added, turning back to shoot AJ a knowing grin.
Either she was telling the truth this time, or AJ was too frazzled from the attempt on the ship to say otherwise.
Revising their flight path took less time than it normally would, thanks in large part to AJ’s instinctive feel for numbers. Where others might require a computer or scratch paper to work out the equations involved, he could do it all in his head within the blink of an eye, a talent he’d always taken for granted until joining the Navy where he was quickly identified as a numbers prodigy and fast-tracked into Navigator’s training. Even with Bella lurking behind him, a silent presence that he was simply incapable of completely ignoring, he completed what should have been an hour or more of work in minutes and had the Omen once more en route to Tamborro. It would take just over four hours to reach the station, which was nearly twice as long as it would have before the flakker attack, but AJ decided it was worth it.
He was still deciding how to proceed with Bella — as a registered Companion, she was so out of his league that it wasn’t funny — when Mishka barreled into the already cramped pilot’s station and began chewing him out for the damage he’d caused with his earlier maneuver. AJ tuned out her complaints, although he donned an attentive and suitably contrite expression as she vented. Halfway through her diatribe, Mish seemed to realize that she had an audience — Bella was watching with a slight smile — and the engineer’s normal discomfort around strangers roared back with a vengeance. In mid-sentence, she began stumbling over words and stopped making eye contact. AJ grimaced.
And reached out to tip her chin up with two fingers.
“I wouldn’t have tried that maneuver,” he said calmly, “if I didn’t think the ship could take it.” Mish started to reply but AJ kept talking. “And it wouldn’t be able to take it if we didn’t have a genius engineer.” To his surprise and secret delight, Mish blushed at the open compliment and fled without another word. Bella watched her go with a confused expression.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“Nope,” AJ replied. He didn’t say anything else, prompting the beautiful woman to give him another look.
“She was … different before,” Bella said.
“She was also kind of drunk,” Trent pointed out. “We have about four hours until we reach Tamborro,” he said in a clear attempt to change the subject. Mishka’s secrets were her own. “Now might be a good time to get some rest.” To her credit, the Companion dropped the subject, although she tossed him a naughty smile that almost caused his brain to freeze up.
“And if I need someone to tuck me in?” she asked. AJ wet his lips.
“You’re the client, ma’am,” he said, his voice thicker than he wanted it to be. “Part of our job is to make you comfortable.”
“Oh … really?” Bella’s smile was even more predatory than before. “I’ll have to remember that.” Without another word, she turned away and walked from flight ops, her hips swaying and making it impossible for AJ to tear his eyes away from her retreating form.
The sudden appearance of a small video image of Tulk’s face in his field of view caused Trent to jerk back in his seat, and he silently cursed his inattention. With the NI jack still plugged in, the neural HUD was probably the easiest way for the man to contact him since AJ had killed the output of the intra-ship com. If nothing else, Tulk’s face certainly threw metaphorical cold water on his libido.
“What?” AJ demanded sharply after quickly reactivating the comm. Tulk’s smirk was back and more annoying than ever.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked innocently. Trent glanced in the direction of the tiny camera mounted on the control panel.
“Do you have something to report or are you just busting my balls?”
“A little of both,” Tulk replied. “No sign of a second attack,” he said, glancing off-camera for a second, “and I just finished an internal sweep to make sure we didn’t have any trackers aboard.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” AJ mused softly.
“We seem to be in the clear—”
Ty’s face suddenly appeared in the neural HUD as he joined the conversation.
“OTC will still want us to file a formal report,” he said. “And you know there’ll be an investigation.”
“Which will turn up exactly nothing,” Tulk pointed out. “And we still haven’t had a discussion about how much our passenger is going to pay for this little trip.”
“I vote she sleeps with AJ as payment,” Steg declared as he joined the discussion. He was grinning evilly. “Maybe she can pull that stick out of his ass.”
“We have two passengers,” AJ interrupted, knowing that if he didn’t stop the former Marine, the teasing would only get worse. Exactly as he expected, Steg’s eyes narrowed.
“Devon,” he identified with a sinister glower.
“I thought his name was Melvin,” Ty interjected.
Tulk paused for a beat. “Captain, I’d like to have a word with you in the tower — Ty, can you give us a minute?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Ty responded. “I’ll babysit the autopilot for you, AJ, if you want.”
“Course already laid in,” Trent said tightly before yanking the optical cable out of the control console, terminating his connection with the rest of the crew. He had a pretty good idea what Tulk wanted to talk about — Bella and the entire mess that she had brought with her — and frankly wasn’t looking forward to this confrontation in the slightest. Grabbing his wrist-comp and sliding it onto his forearm, AJ pushed himself out of the chair and headed aft.
Bella was at the medical station, speaking softly with Betty, and Trent swept by the two without a word, pausing only long enough to seal the door leading to flight operations behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the dark-haired woman watching his passage, a curious expression on her face, and AJ fought the urge to frown. He passed Ty as he entered the common area, giving the man a quick nod before reaching for the ladder leading up to the tower.
| AJ Trent
Bella
Mishka | “I know what you’re going to say,” Trent said as he climbed through the hatch. Tulk slouched in the sensor operator’s chair, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed.
“What? About you thinking with your ‘Little Captain?’” Tulk responded sternly. “You’re not thinking straight right now. I know that. You know that. You want to bring on some pro bono passenger, that’s fine — we’ve got some money right now, so we can handle a little charity … let’s not make that company policy, though. But what I’m really concerned about is security — that’s my job. And this woman is a security risk. You know nothing about this woman, and you let her walk in the front door. She could be here to steal the ship, or kill somebody, or she could be a Fed looking to take someone in — we don’t know.”
AJ tried to choke down the feeling of embarrassment welling up, regarding his indiscretion. Tulk was right about that, and he knew it.
Tulk then produced an ident card, and placed it on the MFD in front of AJ. “This is the Companions Guild ID for one, Bella Venice,” he explained.
“Where did you? … Nevermind,” AJ said, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. AJ knew well enough to not ask too many questions about Tulk’s methods, lest he should become somehow complicit in his doings.
“Guess what? It’s a forgery! Surprised? Maybe not…” Tulk continued, as he picked the card back up and looked it over, pointing out some of the interesting details. “It’s a very subtle forgery — I suspect it’s real, or was at one time, but I’m certain the expiration date has been altered — and well.”
With a heavy, frustrated sigh, AJ collapsed into the commander’s chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as he digested this later revelation. Anger coursed through him then, hot and fast, and he knew Tulk saw it from the way the other man didn’t press his point, but it gave Trent no satisfaction. He had known there was something … off about Bella from the moment he met her and now? Well, now he had proof.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment of silence. “I let myself get distracted by … I let myself get distracted.” AJ straightened. “This is my mess,” he admitted. “I’ll fix it.” As he rose to his feet, he plugged the dangling optical cable into the wrist-comp and nodded toward Tulk’s station. “Set it to receive my transmission,” he instructed before grabbing the ident card and pocketing it. “Just in case she is here to screw us over.” Tulk nodded but, oddly, said nothing further. Trent wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Half-sliding down the ladder leading into the common area, AJ paused when he landed and double-checked the placement of his las-pistol still strapped at his back. He honestly didn’t think it would come to that, but then again, he clearly wasn’t a good a judge of character as the last few hours had shown. Grimacing, he amended that thought: the last time he’d guessed correctly about a person’s character, Mishka probably hadn’t even been born yet.
“We need to talk,” he said sharply as he entered the med-station and approached Bella. She took one look at his face and frowned, but nonetheless nodded. Not bothering to say anything else, AJ spun on his heel and marched straight to the hatch leading to his cabin, kicking it open with practiced ease. Steg, lounging at the common-area table, eating a piece of leftover steak, leaned over and stuck his head into view through the bulkhead door and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, but his amusement faded quickly when he caught sight of Trent’s face. He ducked back to what he was doing, without a word.
Under any other circumstance, AJ would have hesitated in bringing Bella to his cabin, knowing that she was possibly here under false pretenses — as a potentially trained Companion, she might be capable of taking one look at his living space and gaining all sorts of insights into his personality that he was barely aware of — but right now, he needed the psychological advantage of home turf, even if it was just for himself. He dropped into the small room without bothering to use the ladder and glanced quickly around to make sure everything was in place. The tiny bed — a cot, really — was partially folded down, forming a futon couch, and the close assault weapon he’d acquired from Captain Bale’s stash was resting exactly where he left it. Reaching up, AJ grabbed the dangling lanyard and pulled the table down to the floor, securing it in place. By the time he was done, Bella had climbed down the ladder and joined him in the tiny cabin.
The fact that she had pulled the hatch shut did not escape his attention.
He gestured toward the bed-slash-futon with one hand before sinking into the acceleration seat attached to the wall, pushing the safety harnesses out of the way. Bella’s eyes were narrowed — she obviously recognized that something was up — but she said nothing as she gracefully took a seat. Steepling his fingers in front of him and leaning forward. AJ began.
“Have you heard of OSL Shipping?” he asked, the non sequitur causing her to blink in surprise. He didn’t bother waiting for a response before pressing on. “My father is the chief executive officer and principal shareholder, which makes him a very wealthy man in the Terran Federal Republic. When I was seven, he obtained a bound concubine from the Guild to show off just how powerful and wealthy he was.” Bella’s eyes widened slightly and she opened her mouth, but AJ held his hand up. “When I was fifteen,” he continued, “he enlisted a Companion to teach me what he thought it meant to be a man.” Training his eyes on her, he leaned back. “So trust me when I say that I know a few things about how the Guild operates, Mademoiselle Venice,” he said. She did not react to his use of her surname, although AJ wasn’t sure if she was hiding it or simply hadn’t realized that she had never offered it to him.
“I already told you,” she began, but he spoke over her.
“You told me that you accepted a contract with a man that the Guild rejected,” he said, “because you needed the money. You told me that he overreacted because you winked at one of his guards. And you let me believe that you are a registered Companion … although now that I think about it, you never came out and actually made that claim, although you certainly let me infer it.” Before she could reply, he tossed the ident card onto the table. “So tell me, Mademoiselle Venice,” he said softly, “why does my very skilled, very paranoid, very trigger-happy chief of security tell me that this card is a forgery and that you may very well be a risk to this ship and this crew?” He leaned forward quickly. “And be advised, he is watching and listening to us right now so consider your answer carefully.”
For a microsecond, AJ was nearly certain he could make out the faintest hint of what he would read as “irritation” on Bella’s face — only a microsecond.
Bella clapped her hands, giggling, and exclaimed, “What a delightful performance! You looked very serious, almost scary!” AJ frowned, trying to remain composed in the face of what appeared to be utter failure. Bella’s demeanor quickly shifted, however, to something slightly more serious, and she continued. “I can see you’re really bothered about all this, and I really am sorry. Okay, so maybe my Guild membership has expired … but your friend is being paranoid. I wanted nothing more than to get off that planet and leave that lurn shwei jah jwohn to stew — I kept the money, too … for the emotional stress,” she added, rolling her eyes. “I don’t have access to Guild clientele. I have to make do. Sometimes it doesn’t work out — this one being a good example. I don’t have backup, no one to rescue me. So, I did what I had to do It’s … all I have.” She trailed off, reflecting internally.
AJ’s time with the not-quite Companion had shown him a little about lies, and their telling. Now, although she didn’t appear to be holding back, he still could not quite bring himself to believe that he had quite heard all of the truth yet. Actually, he wondered if he ever would.
“Shiang jing,” Tulk murmured into AJ’s ear, via the comm channel. “Either that’s all of it, or she’s really good — I just can’t tell.”
Before he could formulate a response, AJ’s attention snapped back to Bella as she leapt suddenly from his couch-bed, landing in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, her nose almost touching his. Staring straight into AJ’s soul, in a sultry tone, she near-whispered, “I’m gonna go freshen up, and slip into something more … comfortable. Then maybe we can give Mr. Snoopy a good show, eh?” Once again, she smirked, as if to say, “I have you right where I want you,” before springing up, and bounding up the access ladder.
“You’ll have to trust someone eventually,” he said after her, only realizing after the fact that he was talking to both of the people who could hear him speak and that neither one of them would likely listen to his advice. Seconds later, he heard the sound of the hatch to the guest quarters closing. Leaning back in his seat, he focused his eyes on the ceiling and tried not to think about the invitation in his raven-haired guest’s last words. It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t interested and sincerely hoping she would actually live up to her innuendo, but the last decade of his life, not to mention the last thirty-six hours or so, had given him ample evidence that good things didn’t happen to him, no matter how much positive karma he tried to build up. He was suddenly exhausted, both physically and emotionally from the various stresses of the day, and wanted to do nothing more than crawl into his bunk for a week. For the life of him, Trent couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this worn out and defeated, and he hoped it was simply because he needed some sleep instead of being a symptom of a much larger problem. Not for the first time, though, he wondered if the more cynical worldview so many of his associates adhered to wasn’t the right way to go about life. Sure, Tulk was paranoid, and Steg was vulgar, and Julie was so hard sometimes that she could cut diamonds, but at least things went their way on occasion.
“I think you need to see this,” Tulk said, as he ported a video feed from the guest quarters to AJ’s neural-HUD.
“I really don’t think th…” AJ started to say, in protest to the blatant invasion of their guest’s privacy, but as he gestured to kill the video-feed window, he froze in surprise at the sight of Bella collapsing in the corner of the tiny room where she sobbed uncontrollably.
“Struck a nerve, eh?” Tulk said, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. AJ glowered – did the man not have a heart?
“Kill the feed,” he ordered sharply. “Give her some privacy.”
“Understood,” Tulk replied, and AJ pulled the optical cable from the port in his arm without waiting for a response, terminating his connection with the shipboard com-system. He shot a dark look in the direction of the small video camera in his cabin – he’d put tape over the tiny lens months earlier, but knowing Tulk, there could be a half dozen different eavesdropping devices hidden around the cabin – before pushing himself to his feet and walking to the wall monitor currently displaying the readouts on the flight console. | Tulk
Bella Venice
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:18:35 GMT -6
The sound of his hatch opening caused him to half-turn in surprise, especially when he realized it was Bella climbing back down his ladder, pausing long enough to lock the hatch behind her. She was now wearing a very light, white synth-silk gown that clung to her curves, and reflected the dim light of the room. Her demeanor showed no evidence of the breakdown Tulk’s video-feed had revealed; she smiled seductively, as if the time between her leaving and her return had been cleverly redacted from all record. “I know just what you need,” she said. “Now, take off your shirt and lie down. Face down.”
AJ wet his lips and hesitated. He could count on one hand the number of people who had seen him naked from the waist up in the last fifteen years, and for a good reason. Bella gave him a smile.
“I won’t bite,” she promised, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. When he continued to hesitate, she added, “Please?” AJ sighed.
And slowly removed his shirt.
Bella gasped softly and Trent grimaced at the shock on her face. Her eyes traced over the maze of scar tissue that crisscrossed his chest and back for long moments, and AJ’s breath caught when she reached out to trace one of the larger blemishes with her hand. It was one of the thicker scars, starting a few centimeters below his left shoulder and crossing down across his breast to taper off just above his pelvis. She looked up and met his gaze, a question in her eyes.
“Aggressive questioning by people who thought I knew something I didn’t,” he said flatly, closing his eyes against the sudden rush of memories that always came to mind when he thought of the weeks immediately following the Normandy’s disappearance. The Republic interrogators had spared nothing in their attempt to uncover what they thought he knew, and when their telepaths discovered nothing, they turned to more traditional methods. Neural lashes had been the principal weapon of choice for how they could stimulate the nerve endings for greatly enhanced pain, but near the end, one of the more sadistic guards had opted to use a simple bullwhip.
“Come on,” Bella murmured, pushing him toward his bunk and snapping him out of the dark memories. Before he really knew what had happened, AJ found himself face down on his bunk, the raven-haired beauty sitting astride his waist while she dug into the muscles of his back with her talented fingers, expertly untying the knots that the day’s stress and life, in general, had securely tied into his back. As she worked, she hummed some sort of unknown lullaby softly. In moments, AJ’s memory of whatever it was she had done or said earlier had melted away. Within minutes, he had forgotten where he was, or whatever it was he was doing there, or even what his name was, so relaxing was the moment.
And a heartbeat later, he was asleep.
The sound of boots on the floor roused him from unconsciousness.
AJ slumped down in the chair he was shackled to, barely able to focus on anything but the agonizing pain that lanced through his body, beating time with his heart. He had long ago stopped trying to keep his head up and his shoulder straight in a defiant gesture – if it wasn’t for the chains securing him in place, he’d fall off the chair and onto the stone floor. As it was, the handcuffs weren’t the only thing keeping him on the chair – every few minutes, one of the guards outside the door would leave his post to walk across the small room and shove AJ back into place.
And there wasn’t a thing AJ could do to take advantage of the man’s casual approach.
His interrogators had been merciless during the interrogations, but displayed a surgical precision in their application of pain that almost seemed at odds with the brutality. To prevent AJ from trying to escape on foot as if that was ever an option, both of his legs had been broken. His arms had followed soon after and, just to be safe, the interrogators had taken a further step and dislocated both of his shoulders, resulting in a perpetual state of agony, especially when AJ tried to move his arms. His face hadn’t escaped injury, though. Both eyes were so swollen that he normally couldn’t see farther than a few feet, but that wasn’t an issue because they had done something to inhibit his vision, and, if the raspy sound when he inhaled was any indication, his nose was broken. His brain felt like it was on fire – even now, he could feel the psychic after-effects of a dedicated mind probe conducted with no concern about whether he survived or not. The constant pain was excruciating, despite (or perhaps because of) the various drugs they’d injected into him to lower his inhibitions and encourage truth.
And all to discover answers AJ didn’t have.
“I see you are awake.” The cool voice caused AJ to flinch. He barely bit back a scream when his useless arms shifted, though his tormentor chuckled at the whimper that escaped AJ’s lips. “If you cooperate, Lieutenant Triantis,” the unseen man said, “this will go much easier.”
“Dunno anything,” AJ mumbled through swollen lips. He wanted to spit in this man’s face, to show that he hadn’t been beaten … but the fear of what would happen to him if he resisted again paralyzed him. The pain was just too much and a growing part of him knew he would do whatever he had to in order to make it stop. Already, he had spilled family secrets he’d never wanted to reveal just to get the man to stop hurting him.
“We shall see,” the interrogator said before injecting something into a vein on AJ’s left arm.
Pain. It was the only thing he knew then. Acid churned through his veins and he inhaled fire. An implacable force pushed against his thoughts, ripping through them and imposing a sense of something … someone foreign. The presence demanded answers, pushed and pulled and prodded until AJ was shrieking in agony, his voice ragged and torn from overuse.
He wanted to die.
A warm hand touched his bare shoulder, and AJ reacted without thinking, flinching away from it. The moment he realized he was no longer shackled to his chair, he pulled away, dropping hard to the unyielding floor a half meter down. He scrambled away, stopping only when he felt cold metal at his back, and curled up to protect his vital organs. Tears leaked from his eyes and his breath came in sharp gasps.
“AJ?” The voice was soft, feminine … and not a part of his past. He blinked – his vision had returned, although there were two images, one superimposed over the other – and found an image of beauty kneeling before him, her hair disheveled and sleep still clouding her eyes. Recognition came more slowly than it should.
“I’m okay,” AJ finally murmured, forcing himself to relax. He leaned back against the bulkhead and stared up as he tried to force his heartbeat to slow down. “I’m okay,” he repeated.
But he wasn’t. The nightmares weren’t new – they came and went with frightening regularity – and he could count on one hand the number of nights he’d managed to get a complete night’s rest without being woken by a horrific memory of his time in the less than gentle hands of TFR interrogators. Medication helped, but he was so afraid of becoming addicted that he avoided asking Betty for drugs except as a last resort. Stress made the nightmares even worse, so the more difficult things were in the real world, the more terrifying his dreams. And yesterday – or was it today? He’d completely lost track of time – had certainly been a bad one.
To his silent relief, Bella didn’t press the point and instead backed away to give him space, studying him with an expression he couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. More than anything else, he hoped it wasn’t pity he was seeing. Understanding or compassion, he could deal with, but pity? Not so much.
AJ sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He frowned the moment he realized that he’d been stripped down to his underwear and gave her a questioning look.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable,” Bella said, shooting him a particularly sexy smile.
“But is my virtue still intact?” AJ asked wryly as he grabbed his pants and pulled them on. She laughed.
“If I were going to molest you,” she replied, “I’d prefer you were awake … and cooperating.” AJ smiled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave thanks that his vision was returning to normal.
“I’d prefer that too,” he admitted. Shifting awkwardly, he accepted the shirt she offered and quickly donned it, all the while wondering how he could ask what he wanted to ask. In his admittedly limited experience, asking a woman why they were still there never lead to good things. “Thank you,” he offered instead and when she met his eyes, AJ knew she realized he wasn’t talking about the shirt.
A subtle shift in the ambient sounds of the Omen caused him to tense. He took a step closer to the wall display and activated it. Ty’s face appeared on the screen a moment later, and Coleman looked up from whatever it was he was doing.
“Oh, AJ,” he said. “I was just about to comm you.” Ty blinked rapidly when Bella stepped into view and the corners of his lips twitched. “Miss Venice,” he greeted with poorly hidden amusement.
“SitRep,” AJ demanded. He nearly jumped when Bella crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, but the way Coleman’s eyes bugged out was totally worth it. Even if it left Trent even more thoroughly confused about this woman’s goals.
“We’re about thirty minutes out from the Station,” Ty said. “I can bring her in if you-”
“No,” Trent quickly interrupted. Coleman was a decent enough pilot, but AJ didn’t trust anyone but himself at the helm when they were docking. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. Anything else?”
“No, sir.” Nodding, AJ killed the connection and pulled away slightly from Bella, looking at her quizzically. She laughed.
“Did you see his face?” she asked with a giggle before reaching up to her hair. “I must look a fright.” AJ shook his head.
“Not from where I’m standing,” he replied honestly. Once again, she did not react like he expected her to as a blush darkened her features momentarily, although the smile she gave him lit up her face. “Where are my boots?” AJ asked a heartbeat later. | AJ Trent
Bella Venice |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:18:54 GMT -6
No one was waiting outside the hatch when they emerged.
AJ was grateful if a bit surprised that his crew had, for once, decided to show some discretion instead of crass insensitivity, although he supposed the worst offender — Steg — might be in his cabin. The former Marine had displayed an ability to sleep at any time, in any location, under any circumstances, which Trent envied. Properly attired and momentarily safe from practical jokes, AJ escorted Bella to the guests’ quarters and waited until she pulled the hatch shut behind her before turning to the bow of the ship and the pilot’s station. He had barely taken two steps when he realized that, although he left the power nap behind, it had not quite left him. His body demanded coffee, so he turned instead toward the common area.
Yawning widely, he passed through the bulkhead hatch. To the right, in what passed as a dining area — it was little more than a tiny table that folded out of the way of a U-shaped couch — was Mishka’s … guest, whose name AJ still could not recall. The kid was draped uncomfortably over the seats in a semi-blissful slumber, having apparently dozed off while watching vids on the nearby MFD. AJ choked back a flash of jealousy over the interloper’s seemingly peaceful rest, the likes of which had eluded Trent since he was pulled out of the cryo-pod and discovered that the Normandy had vanished. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it, AJ pushed the nameless boy out of his mind and marched straight to the maze of appliances and storage bins that passed as the ship’s galley. What was left in the dispenser could barely be called coffee — it tasted at least a solar week old, maybe more — so Trent dumped it and started a fresh pot. The machine instantly began to hum, allowing him to put one arm against the overhead bin where he could rest his head while he waited. That, as it turned out, was a mistake, as the soothing murmur of the coffee maker began lulling him back to sleep. He was actually thankful for the sound of voices emerging from the MFD and forced himself away upright so he could concentrate on what Mishka’s guest might have been watching.
“…This week, on Long Ago, Far Away,” a pompous-sounding announcer declared as images and videos flashed on the screen, “For the first time since being barred from Præxiõn space for his life’s pursuit of the link between early Terran and Præxiõn cultures, Duke D’Amato returns to Neapolæx, and shows us some fascinating new finds from their past culture. Only on the History Network …”
“What a load of crap,” AJ murmured as he killed the multi-function display. An early Human/Præxiõn connection was one of those ridiculous fairy tales chased by the same kind of idiots who insisted that vampires were real and Flash Hazard was based on an actual person instead of dreamed up by an entertainment writer with too much imagination. He was just about to kick the nameless wonder awake when the sound of someone softly clearing their throat caused him to half-turn.
Carrying what looked like his rechargeable shaver, Steg stood near the open hatchway, a bright grin on his face. He crept closer, raising his finger to silence AJ, before gesturing toward their sleeping guest. Trent rolled his eyes.
But he didn’t spoil the big man’s fun.
Instead, he retraced his steps to the coffee maker, inhaling the glorious life-giving aroma emitting from it, and looked through the cabinet for his mug. By the time he had found it and poured himself a cup, Steg had finished cutting off Marvin’s — or was it Melvin? Stupid name — left eyebrow without waking his victim. He flashed AJ a grin and barely smothered a giggle. Marines, AJ thought with bemused disdain.
“Mish is going to kill you,” Trent remarked when the former Marine joined him at the coffee machine. Steg shrugged before filling his own cup and taking a swallow. He grimaced at the taste.
“God, this is terrible,” he growled. “How many scoops did you put in?”
“Exactly how many I was supposed to,” AJ replied.
“No wonder it tastes like dirty dishwater.” Steg dumped the remainder of his coffee back into the pot. “So?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “How was she?” AJ gave him a dark look.
“You cannot seriously believe that I am going to tell you anything,” he said flatly.
“Figured you owed me,” Steg retorted. “I mean, I was just about to close the deal with Em when you called for extraction …” At AJ’s snort, the former Marine shrugged. “Well,” he amended, “I was closer than before.” He grinned. “Besides, Tulk told me your ma tze was a Companion. Always wondered if they’re any different from regular women.”
“Keep wondering,” AJ said. The moment the words left his lips, he realized that Steg would likely take them as affirmation that he and Bella had sex, and indeed, the former Marine’s eyes lit up. “Are we secured for arrival?” Trent demanded quickly in a clear attempt to forestall any further questions.
“Fine. Don’t answer.” Steg glanced once more at the sleeping kid before sobering. “Seriously, man,” he said without looking at AJ, “I’m glad you’re finally getting your shit together and moving on from Marceau.”
AJ pushed off from the counter and walked away, not bothering to look back when Steg quietly cursed. The big man knew better than to bring up Julie in regards to her relationship with him, but Trent honestly wasn’t angry at him. Instead, he was busy trying to figure out the sudden rush of guilt that had turned his stomach into a tight ball of ice. Somehow, he had managed to actually forget about the news Julie had given him about her engagement before they left Midway.
How in the hell had he forgotten?
He sealed the flight ops hatch behind him when he entered, pausing only long enough to finish his coffee and secure the cup in the webbing at the back of the seat before sliding into the chair. Glancing up, he stared at the glittering starfield for a long moment, finally locating the yet distant space station that was their ultimate destination. At this range, it was little more than a pinprick of light, no brighter than any of the stars that glinted and sparkled.
“Good morning,” Ty’s voice echoed from one of the MFDs. In response, AJ grunted and reached for the optical cable dangling from the console in front of him. He automatically checked its lead before sliding it into the jack port on his arm.
“Flight ops is up,” he announced as the neural HUD snapped into existence before him. “According to the autopilot, we have an ETA of twenty-seven minutes,” he continued. “XO, please confirm.”
“Confirmed, twenty-seven minutes,” Ty responded.
The cockpit was lit by the slightly green-tinted glow of Midway’s only moon, Laughing-Buddha — more commonly called “Ell-Bee.” As the ship drifted, facing the reverse of its direction of travel, the moon floated off to the left, appearing about the size of a pyramid-ball. Tamborro station orbited Midway at its primary Lagrange Point, about four-fifths of the way toward the moon, suspended between the two in near-perfect balance. Their planned orbit took the ship ahead of Tamborro’s position, while the combined gravitational pull of both Midway and its moon slowed it, allowing the station to “catch up.”
AJ switched his HUD to docking mode, and a floating box appeared to highlight the upcoming station. He double-checked that the ship’s progress was normal, and settled back in his seat to relax a bit before he would be needed for the docking operation.
AJ checked his vmail messages, and found that Desi had responded. I don’t like him either. Back at Tambo in a couple of days. We’ll talk, she wrote.
“OTC has traffic at two-thousand klicks,” Ty informed.
“Roger, two points to starboard,” AJ responded, checking the displays. As the ship’s systems picked up the traffic’s transponder identity code, AJ recognized it as belonging to an acquaintance — Captain Roddenberry of the Saturn Ascendant — who berths a few-hundred meters down from their dockhouse at the station, and was frequently encountered in Hard Vacuum — the Omen crew’s favorite bar-hangout, that is. AJ pulled up a communications panel, and hailed the ship. Headed outbound on business, Captain Roddenberry gave the Bad Omen a friendly greeting, and informed AJ that there was some news about the bar — Hard Vacuum — and that he should check in with Anson when they get the chance.
With little else to do while he waited, Trent flipped through the music library contained within the ship’s database before finally settling on the Tannhäuser opera by Wagner, an old favorite of his for reasons he’d never quite been able to explain. On reflex, he piped the overture through the shipboard commline, knowing that it was the only exposure some of his crew had to the true classics. That Steg hated anything but the overly commercialized crap being churned out by modern ‘musicians’ – and AJ used that term lightly – was one of those happy coincidences that Trent would just have to live with.
He spent the next several minutes filling out the incident report regarding the flakker that OTC would require of them once they docked. This was the worst part about his job, the part that the vids never seemed to show in their ridiculous teleplays about life in space, and AJ grimaced at the message from Midway orbital control informing them of a scheduled interview with an investigator about this mess. According to the system log, Tulk had already read the message but hadn’t yet responded, which wasn’t much of a surprise. As far as AJ knew, Tulk had burned a lot of bridges with the bureaucrats at OTC when he filed the report about that idiot Tango who had attacked the Omen some weeks back. For a man who had an uncanny ability to blend in with most kinds of people, Tulk had a tendency to lose his temper while dealing with unnecessary red tape. What they really needed was someone who could work the system…
| AJ Trent
Steg
“Marvin?”
Duke D’Amato | The kernel of an idea began to sprout in his mind, spurred on by the memory of something Bella had said – I did what I had to do It’s … all I have. – and AJ tapped the communication icon for Tulk’s cabin. The response was almost instantaneous.
“What?” AJ smirked at the blank screen.
“Secured line, Tulk,” he said. “Just you and me.” A moment later, the other man’s face appeared on the screen. “I was wondering what else you dug up on Bella.” Tulk’s eyes narrowed.
“What makes you think I’ve even bothered looking?” he asked.
“Because you’re a paranoid crazy person,” AJ replied. Tulk remained silent, which AJ took as confirmation that the other man had continued digging. “I’m not asking specifics,” Trent said, “just whether you’ve got enough to see if we can trust her.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Tulk growled. “Why are you so interested?” he asked a moment later. AJ drew in a slow breath.
“It occurred to me,” he began, “that we might be able to use someone like her in the company.” Tulk gave him an incredulous look, but AJ held up a hand and quickly continued. “Right now,” he said, “you’re the company front man. You’re the guy who goes out there and gets us new clients and does the meet-and-greets.” Trent wet his lips as he carefully considered his next remarks. “But you like to stay out of the limelight as much as possible,” he finally said, “and if we brought on somebody else to handle the PR …” AJ trailed off, not sure what else to say. He knew that Tulk was running from something in his past – a man did not become as obsessive about security as Tulk was without it having a good reason – but had never tried to actually find out what the other man was hiding, despite his overwhelming desire to poke and pry.
“Please tell me you didn’t already offer her a job,” Tulk finally said. He had a weird look in his eyes, as if he was studying Trent in a new light. AJ smiled.
“Since you no doubt have every square centimeter of this ship bugged,” he replied, “you know that I didn’t.” Tulk grunted and AJ knew it was as close to an admission that he was going to get. “It was just a thought I had,” Trent said a moment later, “but wanted to bounce it off you first since you’re the guy with the business acumen.” He didn’t dare to vocalize the rest of what he was thinking, how a long buried part of him felt he owed a karmic debt to help a woman he barely knew. Once, he had been where Bella was – well, their situations weren’t exactly the same, but were certainly close enough – and if hadn’t been for someone giving him a way out of the spiraling pit that had become his life post-Normandy, AJ doubted he’d be alive today. And he had absolutely no doubt that Bella’s lifestyle would catch up to her. Whether it was the Guild coming after her for claiming to be a Companion, or jackasses like Kong, eventually she’d run out of ‘almosts’ and that would be the end of her.
“Guess she made an impression,” Tulk muttered. “I guess I could run a full background check when I get the chance. You sure are making a lot of extra work for me lately,” he added with a chuckle before signing off.
AJ busied himself with musings on the events of the last twenty-four hours as he watched the speck that was Tamborro Station slowly grow to fill the viewport.
Home — as shoddy and neglected as it was, it was, at least, that. It was a sun-wheel-style station dating back to the Exodus period, built to house 25,000, but these days, only half that number lived there. It incorporated a 24-hour “tumble” that provided a day/night cycle; by its current orientation, AJ could guess that the local time would be around noon, which he confirmed on a local-data display — there would be some trip-lag tonight.
Tamborro Traffic Control gave a welcome greeting, and cleared the Bad Omen for docking at its private berth. AJ flexed his fingers a few times before taking the helm controls — docking at Tambo wasn’t particularly dangerous or exciting, but it did take some concentration, thanks to the tumble-effect. He took things slow and easy, and backed the ship carefully into its docking cradle, with barely a shudder on contact with the cradle arms. “Contact,” AJ called out on the comm-line.
“Secure and locked,” Ty responded.
“Seal is green. Ramp down,” Steg added.
“Plugged in and shutting down,” Mishka called, completing the docking checklist. “Off my boat!”
“It’s my boat, petite sœur,” AJ said with a smile before quickly terminating the connection so she could not respond. He spent several more minutes going through his own personal post-flight checklist, culminating in him locking out the flight console from unauthorized use. Without the proper codes, it would be virtually impossible to even check the time from this station. Tulk had recommended these changes to their procedure after the whole Sabo affair that led them to being captured by pirates. |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 9:19:23 GMT -6
| NE Wharfs, Tamborro Station, and DSD, LLC’s Dockhouse | AJ headed aft, making a quick detour to his cabin where he gathered his gear, and then climbed down the access ladder into the ship’s hold. The rest of the crew had already disembarked, and were ahead of him, in the dockhouse, making their way to the front door. As AJ paused just outside the Omen to raise the ramp, Tulk whistled for everyone’s attention. “Company meeting at … ten? Ten-hundred hours,” he said.
AJ spotted Bella, waiting near the office stairs, alongside Steg, who was holding her luggage. AJ momentarily wondered how she had convinced him to do so, but pushed that thought aside. “Mademoiselle Venice?” he called out, as he caught up.
“You can call me Bella,” came the prompt reply.
Steg tossed the luggage to — or at — AJ, with a wink, and said, “See ya at the bar.” With an informal salute, he retreated to the street outside.
“I really can’t thank you enough,” she said once AJ had the baggage — both hers and his — under control.
“Think nothing of it,” AJ replied with a smile. He eyed her for another long second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here on Tambo?” he asked.
“I’ll make do,” she replied, as the two started toward the door. “I know a couple of people here that might be willing to help me out. I’ll get a hotel around here somewhere, and make some calls … maybe get a client or two here,” she explained, looking out the door, at the street. AJ found her can-do attitude about the situation less than convincing — which, given the skill with which she normally concealed the truth, led him to believe she wanted him not to believe her, this time. “So, what do you guys do for fun around here?” she added, in a weak attempt to change the subject.
“Depends on what you consider fun,” AJ replied without thinking. Bella’s answering smirk left him no doubt where her thoughts took her, but Trent tried to shift the focus away from sexual innuendo. He was smart enough to know that, in such a game, he would lose every time. “Have you been to Tambo before?” he asked while letting her take the lead. She stepped into the office, giving it a quick once-over, and AJ wondered what she was thinking. Even at a glance, there was no disguising that Deep Space Deliveries wasn’t a Top Fifty corporation. The office itself was little more than a cleared out part of the warehouse, with a half-dozen desks pushed together in something of a semi-circle. Three of the workplaces — AJ’s, Ty’s and Tulk’s — were organized and professional-looking, while both Mishka’s and Steg’s desks looked like disaster areas. “Because it can be pretty confusing to get around if you’re not familiar with the layout,” he added when Bella did not respond to his original question.
Bella wandered back to the front door of the dockhouse, which lead out to the wharfs, and looked around outside, as if to confirm AJ’s assessment of the place. “Hmm … I think you’re right. Maybe you should show me around first,” she said, looking back at AJ with her trademark “innocent” smile. “You guys are going out for drinks, right?”
“We’re going to meet at the bar, yeah.” He shrugged self-consciously when she gave him a look. “I don’t drink,” he admitted. “Not anymore.” Before she could respond, he lowered the two pieces of luggage to the floor, took a quick step to his desk, and grabbed some of the small business cards that Tulk had insisted they make for each of the company partners. “Before I forget,” he said as he scribbled another number on the back of one of the cards, “these are my other contact numbers.” He offered the small contact-card to her. “If you need anything, anything at all,” AJ continued, “let me know. If I’m on-station, I’ll be there with bells on.” When she looked up at him, he winced. “Okay,” he admitted, “maybe not with actual bells because that would be wrong on all sorts of levels, but I’ll be there to watch your back.”
Bella stared down at the contact-card for a beat, as if it contained some sort of secret message only she could see. Or maybe, she wasn’t actually staring at it at all. In any case, she didn’t react to AJ’s bad joke. She approached and kissed him on the cheek — not the first time in the last twenty-four hours that had happened, but this time seemed more real. “Thanks,” she said simply, before snapping out of her contemplative state. “Let’s go celebrate … whatever it is.”
“We’ll need to secure our bags somewhere,” AJ said slowly. To say that he was surprised at her reaction would be something of an understatement. After their earlier confrontation thanks to Tulk’s paranoia, he had sincerely expected her to ask why he was even bothering to extend the hand of friendship. “Anson — he’s the bartender — has a very strict ‘no luggage’ rule.” Bella said nothing, so AJ continued. “Normally, I’d swing by my apartment first but-”
“Then let’s go there,” Bella interrupted calmly. Once again, she smiled. “If you’re okay with me seeing where you live, that is.”
“I’m more concerned about how you’ll react to it,” AJ replied as he gestured toward the door and retrieved the two bags. “It’s pretty small.”
Once the office was locked, he turned and led Bella to the ‘street’ where he hailed a taxi. It was more a heavy, wheeled, electric cart so common to stations like this, rather than the more traditional, enclosed transport vehicle that could be found dirtside. From there, the taxi took them directly to the nearest zero-gee passenger tram station. The tram ran the length of the docking ring, weaving in and out of the central station hub, and was the primary method of reaching the station’s housing and business districts. A short wait and a five-minute ride later, they reached the lower residential decks of the East Canton. Another taxi took them through the tiled streets to the other side of the canton and the main lift cluster. From there, the massive elevator took them up to Deck 11, and the taxi continued across canton to AJ’s apartment complex. Bella was mostly silent during the trip, listening and nodding at appropriate moments as Trent pointed out the not particularly awe-inspiring sights. She gave the taxi driver a polite smile when the dark-skinned man off-loaded their baggage, and it wasn’t until they entered AJ’s apartment that her fire returned.
| AJ Trent
Bella Venice | | AJ’s Apartment | “You weren’t kidding when you said this place was small,” she remarked. Trent winced — even as he silently gave thanks for the fact that he had recently cleaned up his apartment.
“Occupational hazard,” AJ admitted. “I’ve spent so much time in enclosed spaces like this that I’m just more comfortable in them now.” Bella looked at him, as if trying to determine whether he was lying to her, and he grinned. “True story: I had a bigger apartment before this one and it freaked me out having so much extra space.” As if to mock him, the wall-paint flickered into an endless starfield, making it appear as if the entire room was suspended in the hard vacuum of space. Bella drew in a sharp breath before quickly realizing that it was an illusion. She laughed lightly.
“Very nice,” she murmured, her eyes darting around and taking in the view. Her eyes almost immediately zeroed in on the desk area where Trent kept all of the information he’d acquired about the Normandy’s disappearance, though that wasn’t much of a surprise given how out of place the entire area seemed to be when compared to the rest of the apartment; with the wall-paint activated, it seemed as though the bulletin board was simply hanging in space.
The sound of his televid caused AJ’s reply to stall in his throat and he shot it a glance. He didn’t recall leaving it on when he left — to be honest, he barely used it except when making vid-calls — and he certainly wouldn’t watch the History Network if had. Something tickled the back of his brain but, try as he might, he couldn’t quite coax the memory to full consciousness.
“Something wrong?” Bella asked, following the direction of his gaze to the TV and the same advert that AJ had watched aboard the Omen. He shook his head and turned the televid off in the middle of an obviously staged hero shot of that D’Amato fellow.
“No,” he answered. “Nothing’s wrong.” He offered her his arm in the most gentlemanly way he could manage. “Shall we?”
They passed one of AJ’s neighbors on their way to the elevator — it was the guy Trent thought might be an assassin — but Mister Smith (if that was his real name) swept by them without making a sound. With dark sunglasses concealing his eyes and the collar of his black jacket pulled up, it was difficult to make out his features. Bella gave the suspicious-looking man a quick glance before turning her questioning gaze to AJ.
“Don’t ask,” he said with a shrug.
The bar — Hard Vacuum — was five decks up, and AJ took them along the scenic route … which, admittedly, wasn’t all that scenic in the first place. He kept up a running dialogue along the way, since he couldn’t quite tell if Bella was already familiar with Tambo or not. If she was, she covered it exceptionally well. By the time they reached the bar, he still didn’t know if she was simply humoring him.
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 11, 2010 11:12:32 GMT -6
| Hard Vacuum, Interior & Exterior | The pulsing beat of something hard and obnoxious could be felt and heard long before they actually entered the bar, and AJ sighed heavily. Clearly, Steg had been let loose on the entertainment system, which meant long hours of incomprehensible noise that ostensibly passed as music to Philistines incapable of actually deciphering what a melody was. The last time this had happened, AJ’s head hadn’t stopped hurting for nearly two days.
“Scavenger Black?” Bella asked with a slight smile. “I love these guys.”
“Of course you do,” AJ mumbled under his breath.
They climbed the small flight of stairs leading into the bar and stepped through the door to discover the rest of the Omen’s crew already crowding around the actual bar. Like most other parts of Tambo, the Hard Vacuum looked old and well-used, with antique halogen lamps hanging from the ceiling and an ancient, battle-worn drop-pod at the back of the room. No one was exactly sure where the pod had come from and Anson refused to comment, which had prompted a sort of discreet gambling pool amongst the usual patrons; the first person to find out the truth won the entire pot, and the last time AJ had checked, it was well over twenty grand.
Mish had backed Steg into a corner and was clearly chewing him out, although AJ couldn’t make out what was being said thanks to the noise coming from the wall speakers. From the former Marine’s expression – it was both amused and defensive – it was a safe bet that this argument had something to do with … Damon? and the missing eyebrow. Tulk watched from where he sat, his back to the wall, and gave AJ a nod of greeting as Trent led Bella toward the bar, although his eyes narrowed slightly at the raven-haired woman’s presence. AJ couldn’t tell if it was approval or not, and decided he didn’t much care either way. On the other side of the bar, nursing one what looked like bourbon, Ty barely reacted and it was only now that AJ saw how utterly exhausted the man looked. Behind the bar, Anson Law finished mixing some sort of drink – it was too fruity to be intended for anyone but Mish – before glancing up.
“Hey, Anson,” AJ called out as he pulled out a seat for his companion.
“AJ,” the grizzled-looking man replied, with a nod. He studied Bella for the briefest of moments. “Ma’am,” he said, with another nod in her direction. “Gang’s all here now, I see. What’ll it be?” he asked, as he dried the glass he was holding with a towel.
As he was formulating, in his mind, the response to the bartender/proprietor’s query, AJ happened to notice a small sign at the corner of the bar, over a partially-filled jar of coinage. The sign read, simply, ‘Save Hard Vacuum.’
“An explanation, for starters,” AJ said, nodding toward the jar. “What do you need saving from? More evil tax hikes?”
“Ted!” the bartender yelled loud enough to startle Bella a little. AJ raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, boss,” Ted replied as he appeared, suddenly, from around the corner.
“Your turn.”
“Right…” Ted replied. The gentle giant, long-time bouncer at Hard Vacuum, turned to AJ. “Oh, hey man. Anson got sick of tellin’ the story, so he’s makin’ me do it. Lotta people asking … Anyway, some korp, outta nowhere, said they wanna buy out this entire block and turn it into a strip-mall, or coffee place or somethin’ like that. Landlord doesn’t wanna sell, but he’s got gamblin’ debts up to his eyeballs, so they got ’im by the kiwis. All the other tenants on the block don’ wanna go, so they got lawyers, and they set it up so we can all stay until our lease is up, and then we gotta go.”
With an exasperated look on his face at having to hear it all again, Anson interrupted Ted’s account, continuing the story, “Landlord says if the tenants that wanna stay here can gather up the money, we can buy it from him instead of him selling to the korp. A lot of ’em already have put…”
Some spacer that had bellied up to the bar during the tale-telling interrupted, trying to get Anson’s attention; Anson beaned him with his trademark plastic 8-ball, saying, “Don’t interrupt, gorramit!”
Without missing a beat, he continued, “They put up all the coin they can scrape up, but we need more to get it done — gonna be about four-million pounds.” Anson shook his head in disbelief at the number. “Building’s not even worth that much. But I’ve been working this place since you were in diapers, and I’m not about to give it up without a fight. ’Course, it could come to that…”
“Four million pounds?” AJ repeated, suddenly aghast. He had been expecting a smaller number, a couple hundred thousand, perhaps, which the company — currently in the black, thanks to their looting of that pirate’s lair a couple weeks back — might have been able to float Anson. But four million? AJ doubted they could afford that even if they sold everything, including the ship.
He gave Tulk a quick glance, noting without surprise that the other man was frowning darkly at the new information, though Trent wasn’t sure if that was due to the rather considerable sum stated or the fact that a korp was involved. He’d never concealed his abject loathing toward such companies, and knowing that one of them was now involved in trying to take away his favorite watering hole? Well, that would only intensify his hate. Idly, AJ wondered if Tulk was even now plotting how to throw a proverbial spanner in the works to slow down this entire corporate takeover.
Still ignoring the spacer who’d tried to get his attention, Anson abruptly focused his attention on Bella and gave AJ a less than subtle nod of approval. “What can I get you, ma’am?” he asked before smirking in Trent’s direction. “And please tell me you’re not here with this jackass.” She laughed out loud.
“Ted,” AJ called out softly as Anson continued to flirt – in a vaguely creepy, old man style – with Bella. “What’s the name of the korp trying to buy up the property?”
“Umm … I know this one…” Ted said, with eyes squinted and lips pursed, in an effort to reach the information inside his brain. Anson rolled his eyes, before Ted exclaimed, “Lordsco! That was it. Lordsco.”
Anson added, “It’s some station concessions korp. Big, but not real big.”
| AJ Trent
Bella Venice
Anson Law “Proprietor”
Ted Glick “Bouncer” | “Lordsco, huh?” AJ frowned and quickly composed a data request for information about the corporation using his wristcomp and the NI Jack. He glanced in Tulk’s direction, noticing at once the almost amused expression on the man’s face as he obviously expected a request from Trent to look into the situation. With a subtle nod toward his partner, AJ looked forward once more as the results of his search began pouring in.
As soon as he caught sight of the logos of the many concessions companies under the Lordsco umbrella, Trent realized why the korp’s name sounded so familiar. Lordsco franchises were ubiquitous throughout USA space, and AJ couldn’t think of a station or starport he’d recently visited that didn’t have one of its strip-mall shops somewhere. Even worse were the cheesy, feel-good adverts that extolled the many virtues of the company and plastered the korp’s chief executive officer/owner, Richard Roland Lords, everywhere someone looked. AJ bit back a curse when the Cortex node he visited began an autoplay of the franchise’s jingle theme song — now, the damned thing would be stuck in his head for hours and it was even more annoying than the crap Steg listened to. The most interesting bit of information he gleaned in his quick perusal of the data available was that Lordsco was taking advantage of the difficult economic times to expand. There were already at least four court cases pending wherein the plaintiff’s were accusing the korp of railroading.
“It’s a little creepy when you do that,” Bella declared, her comments causing AJ to jerk out of his examination. He turned to face her, minimizing the Cortex display on the neural HUD with a slight hand gesture. She was already holding a frosted mug of what smelled like Anson’s house beer, and Trent was vaguely surprised to see that a cup of coffee had somehow managed to find its way in front of him without his notice. I must be more tired than I thought, he reflected wryly.
“Do what?” he asked as he picked up the cup and inhaled the wondrous smell. Try as he might, he’d never managed to figure out how to make coffee that smelled or tasted as good as Anson’s.
“You … go away,” Bella replied. “Your eyes are moving but you’re not really here.” She took another drink. “It’s creepy,” she repeated. AJ looked down – apparently, she had noticed when he was using the NI Jack – and grimaced slightly.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was-”
“Scanning the Cortex for information on Lordsco?” she interrupted with a smile. AJ chuckled slightly.
“Something like that,” he admitted.
Bella gave him another look, once more wearing an expression he couldn’t begin to comprehend, but Mishka’s sudden appearance at the bar forestalled any further comment the raven-haired woman may have had, especially when Mish began grumbling under her breath in Chinese. Whatever she was saying, it caused Bella to laugh. A moment later, the two women were deep in conversation interspersed with giggles.
| Richard R Lords “Lordsco CEO” | AJ remained in his seat for a little while long, paying only partial attention to what the two were talking about. Since much of their conversation was in Chinese, he was oblivious, so his attention wandered. When his gaze finally landed on Tulk, the other man offered him a subtle head gesture. Without a word, Trent slid out of his seat and made his way to the table where Tulk was eating.
“Kong isn’t going to let this go, is he?” AJ murmured as he dropped into one of the chairs, his voice pitched so low that only someone with a cybernetic implant like Tulk could make out.
“Ya think?” the other man replied flatly as he finished off his Gong Bao Ji Ding. His eyes narrowed slightly and AJ followed the line of his gaze to where Bella and Mish were laughing. Trent blew out a frustrated breath.
“So,” he said darkly, “not only is she still in danger, but so are the rest of us.” Shaking his head in disgust, he finished his coffee. “When I screw up, I really screw up.” Tulk snorted. “What do we do now?” AJ asked.
“Still working on that, Captain.” The title was said with a hint of bemused scorn, though there wasn’t any rancor behind it. “Smart thing to do would be cutting the girl loose and putting as much distance as possible between her and us.” Trent bristled at the notion of simply abandoning Bella to the mercy of Kong – no one deserved that – but Tulk continued before AJ could comment. “Knowing you, though,” he said, “that’s not really an option so we have to look at other things we can do.”
“Like what?”
“Lay low,” Tulk said. “Keep our heads down and let this whole thing blow over, maybe even try to get a contract that gets us out of Hellene for a while.” He smirked. “Kong is a chwen joo,” he pointed out. “The fact that you made him back down in public – which I found video of, by the way – means he’s probably not long for this world, especially since they threw a flakker at us and it was pretty much a waste of resources.” Tulk flashed a smile that really didn’t touch his eyes. “Of course,” he added, “I could be wrong and Kong might end up being the top Triad boss in the Confederacy thanks to you.”
“Thanks,” AJ muttered. “Guess I’ll be sleeping with a pistol under my pillow for a while.”
“Should have been doing that already,” Tulk stated flatly. “I think your ma tze is getting bored,” he added a moment later, and AJ glanced over to where Bella sat. She was watching them and wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact. “And I’ll look into this Lordsco thing while I’m at it,” Tulk said. “Those jackasses aren’t going to take my bar away.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” AJ said as he pushed himself out of his seat. Tulk didn’t bother replying.
| Tulk |
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Post by Rigil Kent on Mar 12, 2010 18:25:40 GMT -6
| A café in Tamborro Station's East Canton commercial district | Twenty minutes later, they left the bar.
Initially, AJ intended to give Bella the grand tour of Tambo that he had promised her – it was only a little past two in the afternoon station-time and he knew that the best way to avoid trip-lag was to throw himself into the local time zone, no matter how tired he was – but hunger drove them toward one of the numerous cafés scattered throughout the canton. AJ knew they could have eaten at the bar but it was a case of simple self-preservation on his part: Anson was a genius when it came to coffee, but he couldn’t cook to save his life.
While he ate, Trent kept an eye on their surroundings, halfway expecting a squad of Triad mooks to appear out of nowhere, armed to the teeth and with blood in their eyes. As a result, his part of the conversation faltered, though Bella didn’t seem to mind and took his extended silences in stride.
“What do you want to see first?” AJ asked as he paid for the food. When Bella looked at him, he was struck by how tired she appeared.
“I can’t seem to find the International Museum of Bedding on the map. I would really like to see that right now,” she quipped, as she flipped over the digital brochure she was reading. “I don’t think I’m going to make it ’til evening.” Bella paused for a few moments, still looking over the brochure, and added, “How disappointing. I must be losing my touch.”
“Eh?” AJ said, confused.
“I thought that creepy guy over there was staring at me, but it looks like he’s staring at you. There … a few tables behind you.” Bella said, with a subtle nod in AJ’s direction.
AJ quickly scanned the area in front of him for a reflective surface that would allow him to identify his “admirer” without turning around — Tulk had taught him that trick— but he found none. Disappointed, he slowly turned his head, attempting to disguise his surveillance attempt as … something else. In that brief glance, he saw the creepy guy to whom Bella was referring, staring wide-eyed, as if he had recognized AJ as some A-list celebrity, or notorious criminal on a wanted post — probably the latter. He looked to be wearing some off-brand light body-armor, napkin tucked into the neck, and a low-slung, hip-holstered weapon of some kind — rather out of place for this sort of establishment. There was something familiar about the man, though AJ couldn’t quite place him. He had obviously recognized AJ, though, as he stood from his stool, crumbs falling from his mouth. He pointed an accusatory finger in AJ’s direction, and shouted, “You! Captain Trent! I’m callin’ you out!”
“Well this day keeps getting better and better,” AJ muttered. He half turned in his seat to face the stranger, using the movement to conceal the fact that he was also elbowing the button on the small table that would summon a member of the waitstaff. “Calling me out?” he repeated sarcastically even as he tried to figure out why this guy was familiar. “This isn’t the Grand Arena, sir,” Trent pointed out, “and I don’t know you.”
The somewhat-familiar stranger approached AJ’s table, almost stomping, napkin still secured to his neckline, as the approaching waiter made a weak attempt at getting his attention. “You shot up my ship, and stole my bounty. I demand saturation … no, sat … sat … I demand revenge! Now, are you gonna step outside and settle this like a man, or are you a gorram coward?” the stranger bellowed, looking around as if to emphasize the fact that others were looking on — in his mind, no doubt, all nodding in agreement.
Bounty? AJ thought to himself. The only “bounty” he had been involved with in recent memory had been Mac Sabo, which meant that this belligerent fellow was most-likely one Bubba Tango, captain of the pinnace, Solo, who did attempt to take Sabo by force while they were on the way out to the Lucifer system, and whose ship they had disabled in his defense. Now the memory of the bounty-hunter’s face on the comm-screen returned. Shouldn’t this jackass be in jail? AJ mused. Tango had fired first and, following a brief investigation, port authorities determined that the crew of the Omen had acted properly in self-defense, so seeing him here and now was one of those bad surprises that always showed up at the worst possible moment. And brawling in the streets? Talk about classless…
“Never a dull moment with you, is there?" Bella quipped under her breath, clearly more amused than frightened. Truly, Tango did not seem a very “imposing” figure.
“Me?” AJ asked, keeping one eye on Tango while making it look like he was ignoring the man. “How is this my fault? I don’t even know who this idiot is.” It wasn’t entirely a lie — AJ knew only what he had been told later about Tango and hadn’t really given the man more than a passing thought since then — but held just enough of the truth that he hoped it would confuse the would-be bounty hunter. Which, based on what Trent had seen thus far, wasn’t particularly difficult in the first place. If nothing else, ignoring Tango would infuriate him even more and, as AJ’s Krav Maga instructor had once told him, nothing was more useful in a fight than anger.
Still, AJ tightened his grip on his fork, just in case.
“Oh, right. It’s never your fault, is it?” Bella responded, raising her voice, having picked up on AJ’s tactic and decided to play along. “It’s always the same thing with you. You’re always picking fights with complete strangers and ruining my evening. Why do I put up with this? Mother was so right about you…”
Out of the corner of his eye, AJ could see the color in Tango’s face starting to redden with frustration, as his gaze shifted back and forth between the two.
“Well, your dad likes me,” AJ said, adopting an almost petulant tone that caused Bella’s eyes light up with humor. He shifted his grip on the fork slightly and fought the urge to fidget in his chair or look in Tango’s direction. If a fight was going to break out, the very last thing Trent wanted was to be seen as starting it when the police finally showed up.
“That ching soh gangster likes to torture folks for leaving crumbs on the table — sure he likes you! You two are made for each other!” Bella continued, expertly choking back the urge to giggle. “You probably pick fights all the time just so you have an excuse to cut somebody up to feed that gorram dog of yours! That thing’s a monster!”
Tango’s face lightened from an angry red to a more-fearful white, but he maintained his composure as he tried to interrupt. “Gorramit! You’re supposed to be fightin’ me, not your meh lien duh jyah jee!” he exclaimed, with somewhat less fervor than before. “Now git outside and let’s git this done!”
AJ wasn’t sure what the man had just called Bella, but from the way her face tightened slightly, he presumed it wasn’t particularly polite. With feigned casualness, he turned toward Tango.
“Oh,” he said simply. “I forgot you were there.” The would-be bounty hunter’s face darkened even further. “Who are you again?”
“I’m the man what’s gonna gun you down where you sit if you don’t git up now,” he reminded AJ, lost to his anger, as he placed his hand on the grip of the weapon at his side. “Right in front of your lao puo,” he added, for emphasis, with a wild look in his eyes.
“There’s never a badge around when you need one,” Trent said softly. Over the man’s shoulder, AJ could see that the impending altercation had drawn a considerable audience — patrons, waiters, even a sharply-dressed man (or was that a woman? It was hard to tell, what with the make-up and all.) were watching with wide eyes or, in some cases, visible excitement at what looked to be impending bloodshed. “I think there has been some sort of mistake, sir,” AJ said while pretending to recline in his chair. In reality, he was tensing for action even as he desperately tried to find a way out of this situation that didn’t end in violence. “Let’s discuss this like reasonable adults.” He felt a flash of déjà vu as soon as the words left his lips — hadn’t he said something similar to Kong not that long ago? And look how wonderfully that turned out, he reflected bitterly as he met Tango’s eyes.
“Get up so I can shoot ya, gorrammit!” Tango bellowed, voice near to cracking with frustration.
“Yeah,” AJ stated without breaking eye contact, “I’m going to have to pass on that.” He slowly shifted his legs into place so he could easily spring forward should the circumstance warrant it.
“Aww, come on!” Tango pleaded, exasperated, rolling his eyes. “You haveta. It’s the rules.”
Bella bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“If you’re done being a nuisance, sir,” AJ said loudly, “we would like to finish our meal.” He gave Tango another contemptuous once-over. “Isn’t there a village somewhere looking for you?” he asked.
The bounty-hunter wore a puzzled expression, and said, “Huh?” Before he could respond further, or react to the snickers from some of the other café patrons who understood that he had been insulted, something outside the window caught his attention. “Aww, you cheated! That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
AJ turned to see what Tango had spotted out the window, and saw the red-and-blue flashing lights that signaled the approaching station-police vehicle. Tango quickly left to slap down some coinage on the table that he was now vacating, stuff the remains of the muffin he was eating, and hurry out the door. As he passed, still chewing, he scowled in AJ’s direction and said, “Another time, Captain Trent — I will have my revenge!” He shook his fist before storming out into the street…
…and was immediately tackled by several policemen.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” Bella joked, as the din of normal restaurant conversation returned.
“And to think,” AJ replied wryly, wincing as he watched Tango take a baton to the stomach when he foolishly tried to resist, “it isn’t fifteen hundred yet.” He almost made the mistake of remarking that this day couldn’t get any worse, but managed to keep the damning remark to himself. It didn’t count if he never actually said the words aloud, right? Grimacing at his stupidity of even thinking something like that, AJ glanced across the table to meet Bella’s amused eyes. “A dog?” he asked. “Really?” She laughed out loud. “You do realize,” Trent said, “that everyone in this restaurant now thinks I’m a gangster.” He raised his voice fractionally so it would carry. “Which I’m not, by the way,” he added for the benefit of the patrons still eavesdropping.
“Those policemen sure seem to be interested in you,” Bella observed. AJ took a quick glance out the logo-embossed window, and saw the restaurant manager speaking with the officer-in-charge, who appeared to be comparing AJ to something on his datapad. “You're not wanted for anything, are you?” Bella asked, with no real hint of concern in her voice.
“Pretty sure,” AJ said. “Although,” he added with an amused chuckle, “I did recently smuggle a beautiful woman off Midway who kept getting me in trouble.” Before she could reply, he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he turned toward the door, fishing his ident-card out of his pocket as he did so. From his experience with Tambo police officers, he knew that time was of the essence. Poorly funded, equipped and trained, they generally had a tendency to look the other way with minor scuffles like this one as long as blood wasn’t shed or a weapon wasn’t drawn, but it was always a good idea to show them an appropriate amount of respect. After double-checking that he had the appropriate licenses for the weapons he was carrying on his person, AJ stepped through the doorway, holding his ident-card up in plain sight. “Good afternoon, Officers,” he said when two of the policemen swung their weapons around to cover him. | AJ Trent
Bella Venice
Bubba Tango |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 17, 2010 13:44:04 GMT -6
True to form, nothing went as planned.
Without waiting to actually determine whether he was a threat or not, the pair of officers swarmed forward, grabbing AJ’s arms while keeping their weapons trained on him. He stumbled once as they shoved him in the direction of the OIC, who took Trent’s ident-card and nodded to one of the two policemen. The man gave AJ another slight shove, this time directing him to the side of a station patrol vehicle. While his partner watched, the officer frisked Trent quickly, stripping him of the las-pistol, the 9mm, and even the knife secured inside Trent’s left boot.
“Packing some serious firepower there, pal,” the policeman said.
“I’m licensed,” AJ replied, grunting when the officer elbowed him sharply.
“Did I say you could speak?” the man snapped.
“That’ll be enough.” The OIC stepped into AJ’s line of sight, gesturing once toward the other station patrol vehicle that currently held a handcuffed Tango in the back. It began pulling away and the senior policeman – his nametag read ‘Dallas’ – pulled AJ’s ident-card from the datapad he was currently carrying. “Captain Trent,” he said, “I need you to come with me down to the station to answer a few questions. If you would step inside the vehicle, please.”
“Do I really have a choice?” AJ asked.
“Not really,” Dallas replied calmly. “You aren’t being bound by law, sir,” he said, “and your weapons will be returned to you once you’re done there.”
“Can’t I answer your questions here?” AJ asked. He nodded toward the café and Bella. “I was actually having lunch with … someone.”
“I apologize, but I have orders to bring you in, sir. The manager here will let you close out your tab when you get out. Now, if you would, please…” the officer said, once again, directing AJ to the vehicle.
AJ bit back a curse as he silently acknowledged that he really didn’t have any options apart from cooperating. Frowning, he gave Dallas a sharp nod before looking in Bella’s direction. He saw the puzzled look on her face, just before he squeezed down into the cramped back seat of the vehicle. The two remaining officers stepped onto the running-board on the rear of the vehicle, holding onto the handlebar, as Officer Dallas settled into the driver's seat, and commed dispatch, telling them they were on the way. Twisting to look over his shoulder, between the two officers, AJ could just see Bella stepping out of the café, trying to get the restaurant manager’s attention.
The ride to the security station in deck 15 of the West Canton, reserved for the military and station-related administrative functions, took about ten minutes — but then, driving anywhere on the station took around ten minutes. Bella called AJ’s wrist-comp from the café’s public comm-terminal, and AJ confirmed his destination, successfully (he hoped) concealing his worry at her exposure. They arrived at the station without incident, at the side access lock, where prisoners would normally be brought in.
AJ was helped out of the back seat and escorted into the building, his presence logged into the system using his identicard, which was also used to secure his personal effects — including his wristcomp — in a row of lockers; he was assured this was all precautionary and standard procedure. His escorts then led him through the office area, where he saw the many fine officers-of-the-law, hard at … whatever it was they were doing. None of them seemed to pay him any mind, with the exception of one — AJ did not recognize this officer, a balding, husky man, who appeared to recognize AJ, and glowered angrily in his direction as he continued placing his personal effects on a once-cleared desk. Officer Dallas finally led AJ into a plain room, featureless, save for a small table flanked by a pair of chairs, all bolted to the floor, and a single black-out window.
“Have a seat, Captain. Someone will be with you shortly,” the policeman said before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.
The minutes ticked away with excruciating slowness, and AJ stared at the blacked-out window with an annoyed frown. A bone-deep fatigue competed with frustration, and he focused on clearing his mind of the usual distractions. The striking similarity between the small interrogation cell to the one where the TFR telepaths had ripped apart his mind a decade earlier made concentration difficult and, with a start, he realized that he had lapsed in his mental calculations. He started over, hoping that there weren’t any slithy tepes in the facility. Start with the basics, he reminded himself. u = (v+w)/(1 + vw/c²). Easy enough. The smooth logic and precision of pure mathematics was soothing.
| AJ Trent
Officer Dallas
| The silence was finally broken as a stern-looking older man, with a jacket emblazoned with the letters “HSCIS,” entered the room and shut the door behind him. His eyes fixed intently on AJ, he slowly circled the table, like a predatory animal looking for a weak spot to attack, and eventually settled into the opposing chair, still staring.
For what seemed like minutes, the man said nothing at all. He just stared into AJ’s eyes.
And Trent started to get angry.
He couldn’t help himself – the situation was bringing to mind far too many dark memories and the fact that he hadn’t done anything wrong, yet was being treated like the subject of a criminal investigation caused his temper to flare. AJ narrowed his own eyes and glared back at the HSCIS agent while adding wormhole metrics to complicate his internal calculations: ds² = -c²dt² + dl² + (k² + l²)(dθ² + sin²θdø²).
“Proper etiquette requires you to identify yourself,” he said flatly. “Especially since I wasn’t bound by law and cooperated entirely with Officer Dallas after that jackass started harassing me in the restaurant.” He glowered.
“I’m Agent Diggs,” the man said flatly, as he flipped open his ident badge, which confirmed his statement. He continued after a beat, “And I don’t care about the jackass at the restaurant.” He paused for a moment, studying AJ’s reactions, then produced a datapad and slid it onto the table, spinning it around to reorient it for AJ’s benefit. “Tell me what you know about this person,” he said, tapping the image on the datapad.
“I don’t know much actually,” AJ admitted. He leaned back in his seat and frowned. “Truman Clark is his name, I think. He’s a smuggler. Last I knew, he commanded a merchantman named Natasha, although I don’t know what the hull registry code was.” Pushing the datapad back toward Diggs, he added, “They were berthed in … frel … twenty-one eighty-eight north-east, I think, though that was about a month and a half ago so he’s probably already rabbitted by now.” Trent shrugged apologetically even as he contemplated how much more to reveal. The Omen’s presence in the Lucifer system was probably a matter of record, although it could easily have been classified well above this Agent Diggs’ clearance. Still, AJ decided it was probably safer in the long run to play ball – his crew hadn’t done anything especially illegal, and cooperating with HSCIS might have some long-term benefits down the road. “Clark had an illegal black box that me and my crew … ahem … acquired,” he said after a moment of silence, “but we turned it over to Captain Titas of the Ajax twenty-nine days ago.” AJ studied the silver-haired agent for a moment. “Why are you asking me about this guy?”
“Because his body was found orbiting this station about a week ago,” the agent replied, still revealing no emotion. “You telling me you haven’t seen this guy since a month and a half ago?”
“Give or take a few days,” AJ said, not bothering to hide his surprise at the revelation. Almost at once, worry over the safety of his crew swelled – were they in danger? Had Bale survived and backtracked them here? – and he locked eyes with his interrogator. “It was the same day the Ajax locked the station down to conduct a manhunt for that pirate, Sabo.” He exhaled. “But I’m still not seeing why you’re asking me about Clark,” AJ pointed out, “unless I’m a suspect for what I’m presuming is a murder.”
“Oh, I don’t think you killed this man,” Diggs replied, matter-of-factly. “However, the circumstances fit the M. O. of a local heavy, Zachary Sylvester — you know him as ‘Sly,’ I’m sure. I do think you maybe helped kill this man, which would make you an accessory to murder.” The agent rose from his seat, as he spoke.
“Well, this day just keeps getting better and better,” AJ muttered bitterly. “I know you’ve probably heard this a billion times,” he said tightly, trying desperately to bury the memories of the TFR prison, “but you’ve got the wrong man here. Yeah, I’ve heard of Sylvester, but...” He trailed off as the pieces fell into place. “The blackbox,” he realized aloud. “Clark was supposed to sell it to Sylvester, but we got a hold of it first.” AJ looked up. “You’ve got the wrong man, Agent Diggs.”
AJ’s questioner sidled around the table and leaned into AJ’s left ear, as if to whisper into it, one hand braced against the table. He then stated, with confidence, “Or maybe … I’ve got the right man. Maybe Sly decided he didn’t want to part with all that coin after all. And that’s when he came to you.”
The absurdity of the accusation stole AJ’s breath away. How many times throughout the years had his associates and co-workers complained about his morality, his sense of ethics? Half of the reason he and Julie had split apart in the first place was due to core personality conflicts; where she would cut whatever corners she had to and was more than willing to crawl around in the muck to make some coin, AJ clung to an outdated code of honor that set him apart from so many others in his situation. And now, this incompetent moron who obviously hadn’t done a shred of actual investigative work dared to accuse him of being a murderer? Fury bubbled within his veins and he turned slowly to lock eyes with the HSCIS agent.
“I am not now,” AJ began slowly, controlled rage leaking into his voice, “nor have I have been in the employ of a piece of dren like that.” Calm down! he screamed at himself, recognizing Diggs’ tactics for what they were. He fought the urge to pounce on the older man, and instead balled his hands together in tight fists. The walls felt like they were pressing in and, with each breath he took, he could taste the long-remember stench of the Republic prison. Angrily, Trent wet his lips. “Either charge me,” he said sharply, “or get the frel out of my face. I’m done with this farce.” He pushed himself to his feet…
“SIT DOWN, Captain! We’re not done here, yet!” the agent shouted forcefully, in an intimidating manner reminiscent of AJ’s military instructors. Trent found himself obeying on ingrained reflex — this man had to have been a Marine — and he hated it.
Diggs paced over to the blackout window for a beat, running his hand through his hair as if to massage the frustration from his mind, then calmly returned to his seat.
“We have you at the scene of your ‘acquisition,’” he continued, tapping the datapad to shuffle through some other pictures — clear security-camera stills from the incident at the smuggler’s dockhouse. “You confessed to being there. You are involved, for one reason or another. So explain to me why I should believe that a convicted felon like you is not associated with Sylvester? Because his DNA is all over this.”
“For the record,” AJ said flatly, “I haven’t confessed to a damned thing although if you have the vid footage, then you should be able to tell he was still alive when me and my crew left his dockhouse.” He drew in a steadying breath; Euler’s formula could help him relax. eix = cos x + i sin x. “And second,” he added as calmly as he could manage, “if you’d actually done your homework before hauling me in here under false pretenses, you’d have found out that my criminal record comes from a kangaroo court-martial in Republic space for crimes I was innocent of.” AJ could see the disbelief in the agent’s eyes — how many times had this man heard a suspect claim to be innocent over the years? — so Trent tapped the datapad. “Look it up,” he suggested. “Terran Federal Republic versus Triantis. Twenty-one ninety-four. The entire Confederacy was on my side.” When Diggs’ eyes narrowed, AJ leaned back in his seat. “Do you have a time of death?” he asked before shaking his head in self-disgust. “Of course you don’t. He’d be a desiccated corpsicle if he was out there for longer than a day.” He grimaced. “Can’t you just use his ident-card to track his movements around the station? Use that to figure out who killed him? They do that all the time on the vids.”
The agent nearly interrupted, “Well this ain’t the vids. I know about your court-martial, because I have done my homework. I remember it from when it happened — made big news on this side of the DMZ too. For the record, my gut told me that you were getting humped for being the only one left. Just like now — my gut tells me you’re not the guy, even though all the evidence we have points to you and your crew. Now, I want you to give me a reason why I should ignore the evidence we do have…”
There was a sheepish knock on the door. “Yo!” yelled Agent Diggs at the intrusion. An attractive female agent of apparent Middle-Eastern descent opened the door slightly — she was vaguely familiar-looking, but AJ couldn’t quite place her — and poked her head into the room to speak, but was interrupted by Diggs. “Rule 22, Agent Levy…” he warned.
“Yes, Boss,” she responded, ”Monkey on comm. He says it’s urgent.”
“Thank you,” the interrogator said, almost grumbling, as Agent Levy retreated and closed the door. Diggs clicked the comm-badge on the back of his hand, and spoke into it, “Go ahead.”
The chipper, older, male voice on the other end of the wave explained, “I’ve managed to narrow down the time of death to a forty-eight hour window — around the eighth or ninth of June. It’s a miracle I was able to figure it out, but…”
“Thank you,” Agent Diggs said before switching his comm-badge off again. He turned his attention back to AJ. “So, where were you on the eighth or ninth of June?”
| Agent Diggs
| Trent frowned and did some quick math in his head. They’d been back in Hellene for what? Three weeks? Six days to Lucifer, almost a week in Republic space while Tulk gamed the system to avoid customs taxes, then back to Tambo where they spent two days with paperwork and the OTC investigation into Tango’s attack. That meant they’d left for Antichrist on … the first of June? Maybe the second?
“Not in the Hellene system, that’s for sure,” he said. “I’d have to check the Omen’s flight manifest – I can do that from here if you give me access to a secure Cortex node – but I’m pretty sure we were on Shamafar on the eighth.” AJ snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him. “The OTC records,” he said quickly. “We got jumped by that idiot who was harassing me at the restaurant a little while ago. He opened fired on us and we retaliated. I’m pretty sure that was on the morning of the second and the OTC investigation should back me up on that.” Relief washed through him – there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d even been here when Clark was killed.
Which led to a whole new set of problems in AJ’s opinion. Would this Sylvester move against the company since they’d ruined what would likely have been a lucrative financial deal? Sometimes, it just wasn’t worth getting up in the morning.
Agent Diggs looked a little disappointed, no doubt, because his only lead at the moment wasn’t panning out. “Providing your logbook checks out, looks like you’re be off the hook. Until we can confirm your data, you are not to leave the station.” He clicked his comm-badge again. “Agent McGuinness, get in here,” he commanded.
“Yeah, Boss.” McGuinness responded, as he entered the interrogation room a beat later.
“Get the Bad Omen’s logs from Captain Trent, here, and get them over to Lizzie, so she can verify they haven’t been altered,” the senior agent said, now, with no hint of suspicion in his voice.
“On it, Boss,” the young agent replied. He typed something into his wristcomp, then turned to AJ, he said, “Sir, if you’ll follow me … Also, your wife’s here to pick you up when we’re finished.” For a moment, Trent thought the man was addressing Diggs, but the older agent had vanished like smoke in a stiff breeze in the brief moment that AJ had looked away. He frowned — he didn’t have a wife, not anymore — before comprehension dawned. Somehow, he managed to keep from groaning. That woman was going to be the death of him.
| Agent Levy
Agent McGuinness
| Some time later, after AJ had completed the transfer of the ship’s logs with McGuinness, Agent Diggs returned to escort AJ to pick up his ident-card and weapons, and then to the lobby, where they encountered Bella, happily chatting away — or maybe flirting — with another HSCIS agent, who was clearly smitten with her, but attempting to resist her charms, evidently believing her to be married to the now approaching former-suspect.
“Agent Spinozzi…” Diggs scolded. “Don’t you and Agent Levy have something you need to be doing right about now?” He asked rhetorically, before slapping the male agent sharply on the back of the head.
“Yeah, Boss. Sorry, Boss. On it. C’mon Zahra,” Agent Spinozzi said to the female agent AJ had seen earlier, who was standing nearby, stifling the urge to laugh at her colleague’s predicament. The two rushed off to do whatever-it-was.
“Oh, hi, Honey!” Bella beamed, as if she had only just noticed AJ’s presence. “Everything go okay? Are you free to go now?” she asked, with her usual mischievous smile, as she took AJ’s arm.
As they turned to leave the security station, Agent Diggs added off-hand, “Y’know, your records don’t say anything about you being married…”
“Yeah,” AJ said with a wry, sidelong look at the dark-haired woman now clinging to him. “It’s new to me too.” On instinct, Trent dug one of his business cards out of a pocket and offered it to the agent. “These are my contact numbers if you need to talk to me again,” he said. When Diggs gave him a questioning look, AJ continued. “If Sylvester took out Clark because of that blackbox,” he said, “he might come after my people and I’ll do whatever I can to keep them safe.”
| Agent Spinozzi
Bella Venice
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 20, 2010 13:01:52 GMT -6
From the police station, they traveled directly to the restaurant so Trent could settle the bill. Bella sat quietly next to him in the tiny cab, resting her head on his shoulder and playing the part of adoring wife so perfectly that AJ suspected she’d done so in the past. For his part, Trent was so distracted by worry over what he’d just learned that he could barely focus on anything else. He hadn’t been lying when he told Diggs that he’d heard of Zachary Sylvester — the man was something of an urban legend on Tamborro Station. No one crossed that dangerous man without repercussion.
They reached the restaurant long minutes later, and the officious-looking manager of questionable gender was nowhere in sight, although the server who had waited on them was more than eager to handle the bill. AJ made sure to add a fairly substantial tip before ducking out of the café, his raven-haired companion a half step behind him.
“I hate to be a downer,” Bella said the moment they stepped out into the street, “but I desperately need some sleep.” She was struggling to keep from yawning as she finished speaking, and AJ nodded in understanding.
“Yeah,” Trent muttered. The sensation of being watched caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise; he wasn’t sure if he was just being paranoid or if there actually was someone out there, but with the number of enemies he seemed to be gathering on what seemed like an hourly basis, finding someplace to hide for a few hours was a damned fine idea. “I need to make a call first,” he said.
Tulk answered the vidphone on the third ring and listened with a grim frown as AJ outlined his recent confrontation with Agent Diggs. When Trent mentioned Sylvester’s probable involvement with Truman Clark’s death, the other man’s face wore a dark, yet puzzled expression.
“Figured that was coming. Sly sure took his time though,” Tulk responded.
“Well, the investigators put the time of death around a week after we left,” AJ added, secretly irritated at the fact that, although he had suspected Sly might retaliate for the theft, Tulk hadn’t informed him of his suspicion — before reminding himself that he didn’t normally want to know these things.
“Ah, that’s more like it. I’ll talk to Steg,” Tulk said grimly before terminating the connection.
“Nice talking to you too,” AJ muttered. “Back to my place, I guess,” he said. In response, Bella yawned.
| AJ Trent
Bella Venice
| | AJ’s Apartment | Once they reached his apartment some twenty minutes later, Trent turned to face her.
“Do you own a firearm?” he asked without warning. Bella’s eyes widened at the remark and AJ realized how it must have sounded. He blamed it on the trip-lag that was certainly setting in, not to mention the still considerable worry over all of the stress of the day. A shiver crawled up his spine at the sudden memory of the interrogation cell Diggs had kept him in, and he was only partially successful in fighting it down. As hard as he tried, AJ couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu, especially when something familiar about the Levy woman tickled his brain. Trent pushed the moment aside and tried to focus on his conversation with Bella. “I only ask because … well, because Kong isn’t going to let this go.” Understanding flickered across her face at once, as well as quickly hidden concern and fear. “I don’t know how much you took from him and it really isn’t any of my business,” AJ continued. “The important thing is that you made him look weak in front of his subordinates and he will not let that stand, not if he wants to stay in charge.”
“But the missile,” Bella began. AJ waved the hopeful remarks off.
“Would have been enough if it hit,” he interrupted. “Instead, it makes him look even weaker because now he’ll have to spend more money to buy the silence of nosy bureaucrats and OTC investigators.”
“You said they couldn’t track it.” Her tone was accusatory and AJ forced a smile on his face even as he hit the button that extended his bed out of the wall where it was stored.
“They can’t,” he admitted, “That doesn’t mean they don’t know who did it, they just can’t prove it. There will still be an investigation and having lawmen poking around always causes problems.” He sat down heavily on the bed. “So that means you’re still in danger, which is why I wanted to know if you were armed.”
“No,” Bella said softly. “I don’t have a gun.” She glanced in the direction of her bags. “I don’t even think I own a knife.” AJ nodded — he’d suspected as much. She struck him as the sort of got others to solve her problems for her rather than actually getting her hands dirty.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but I think it’d be safer if you stayed here tonight.” Bella’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled.
“So much effort to get me into bed, Captain?” she asked.
“And you took in exactly the wrong way like I asked you not to,” AJ grumbled. He stood and hit the ‘extend’ button once again. With a whir, the bed slid out further, revealing more mattress that, even now, was in the process of filling with air. It would still be a tight fit, but at least there would be enough room for both of them, moreso than had been present aboard the Omen when they shared a bed. “If you’re not comfortable with sharing the bed with me,” he said, “I’ve got a survival bag around here and can sleep on the floor.” He winced at the notion. “I’d prefer not to, of course. The floor’s not very comfortable.”
“Will my virtue remain intact?” Bella asked. AJ offered her a tight smile at the familiar remark. Though only a few hours had passed, waking up in his cabin aboard the Omen seemed so long ago now.
“Depends on whether you decide to molest me while I sleep,” he replied, biting back a yawn that threatened to split his face in two. “Right now, all I want to do is crawl under these sheets and stay there for a week.” Bella glanced once again at the bed, then at him, and AJ shook his head. “It’s your call,” he started to say.
“Does this apartment have a shower?” Bella interrupted. “If I’m going to stay here tonight,” she continued, “I’d very much like to wash Midway out of my hair.”
Once he pointed her in the right direction — she showed a decided familiarity with the compact controls, prompting him to suspect that she’d probably lived in an apartment like this before — AJ spent several minutes going through his pre-sleep routine. He extracted his personalized vac-suit from his bag and secured it in its proper location, then quickly checked his messages. Most were the usual spam — station vendors trying to sell him things he didn’t need, want or could afford — but one of them was from the cyber-clinic confirming his appointment for three days hence to reactivate the computer implant attached to the NI Jack. It had been so long since both systems were operational that AJ wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to the day after the procedure. Next, he double-checked the placement of his various firearms throughout the apartment, making sure all of them were within close access in the event of … uninvited guests. He then double-checked that the rudimentary security system on his front door was activated while making a mental note to ask Tulk how to upgrade it tomorrow. Satisfied, AJ stripped down to his underwear, dropping his dirty clothes into the retractable hamper, and stretched out on the bed, taking the side most exposed to the door.
Almost at once, he began to doze off.
Floating in a half-asleep, half-awake fugue state, AJ was vaguely aware of the shower ending and then the sounds of bare feet on the tile floorplates. Several minutes later, he felt the bed shift slightly as Bella slid underneath the sheets beside him. She murmured something softly in Chinese, something that sounded friendly and almost thankful, and shifted closer to him, her still wet hair smelling of orchids and fire. AJ wondered how she managed that – he didn’t have anything but generic shampoo – and meant to ask her.
But a moment later, he was asleep.
His alarm began buzzing at zero six, but AJ was already awake.
He had been up for nearly an hour, having stirred at the sound of his front door opening and closing. By the time he finally clawed his way to consciousness and rolled out of bed, Bella was already long gone, without even having left behind a note. AJ slumped back against his pillow and simply stared at the ceiling, unable to fathom why this sort of thing always happened to him. When the alarm sounded, he climbed out of bed and began his morning routine. Somehow, he just knew that Bella would turn up again.
The floor was cold against his bare feet, but AJ ignored it as he made his bed and pressed the button that caused it to retract into the wall. Giving the empty coffee maker a quick glance, he made a mental note to pick up a replacement today — caffeine wasn’t just useful in the mornings, it was necessary — before ducking into the shower. He was still yawning when he climbed out long minutes later. Dressing took longer than it normally would because he had to struggle with the nanoweave bodysuit he donned over his underwear; normally, he didn’t like wearing the armor because of how paranoid it made him look, but the realization that Sylvester might be gunning for them outweighed any concerns over appearance.
And when the door buzzer sounded some ten minutes later, AJ actually jumped in surprise.
He was fully dressed, with both the las-pistol and 9mm secured in place — at the small of his back and at his waist respectively — and had been a few minutes away from heading out for breakfast. Frowning, he walked to the door, wrapping his hand around the grip of the holster slugthrower, and triggered the outer door camera to identify his visitor; the small screen to the left of the door flickered to life, revealing the visitor as Jaime Ramirez — from down the hall — wearing a somewhat puzzled expression.
Not releasing his hold on the autopistol, AJ took a step back and hit the release button. With a hiss, the door slid open.
“Jaime,” Trent greeted carefully.
“Hey, man.” Jaime responded. “You got any Cortex signal over here? It dropped out over at my place, and I was wondering if it was just me…”
“Hadn’t checked,” AJ admitted. With his left hand, he reached toward the wall panel and hit the power button. The monitor snapped on, but the unmistakable ‘No Service Detected’ logo instantly answered Ramirez’s question. “Looks like we’ve got another outage,” Trent said. “I’m not getting a signal either.”
“Not just me, then,” Jaime confirmed. “Management is so gonna get an earful about this…” he added, as he headed back down the hall; he called back, “Thanks,” as he went.
AJ let his door slide shut before Ramirez even reached his apartment and retraced his steps to where his go-bag rested. He spent a few minutes breaking down his EV-suit for transport — it was always the most difficult thing to store since extra care had to be taken to avoid any rips or tears — before securing it in a vacuum-sealed tube that took half the space in his go-bag that it normally should. Pity the tube can’t do anything for the weight, AJ reflected wryly.
The buzz of the door annunciator a moment later caused him to look up from what he was doing with a frown. Surely Ramirez wasn’t this desperate for Cortex access!
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 23, 2010 8:02:12 GMT -6
This time the door-cam revealed Bella, bearing a couple of small packages of take-out food.
Frowning, AJ hesitated, his finger hovering above the door release button. There was something not right, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that was wrong. He unholstered the las-pistol, double-checked the charge, and then concealed it behind his back. Shifting to his left so he was not directly in front of the door, Trent drew in a deep breath and hit the release button.
And a moment later, he was nearly bowled over by Bella as she rushed into the apartment, her eyes wide with barely suppressed panic despite the forced smile on her face.
“Good morning!” she said with an almost cheery tone. “I brought some breakfast … and some ‘company.’”
A step behind her, a handful of large men, clad in dark coats and holding ugly-looking beam weapons at the ready entered. AJ froze at the sight of the men and their brandished weapons; he knew his own limits and there was no way that he could get his own pistol up before they would drop him. Shifting slightly in place so as to put himself between Bella and the mercs, he tensed.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said slowly. “I don’t recall inviting you in.”
“We didn’t ask,” one of the thugs — maybe the thug-in-chief — replied, matter-of-factly, as they looked around the room. While his cohorts kept steady aim on AJ, the man produced a tiny device, about the size of an average human thumb, from a coat pocket, and held it in front of him. AJ recognized it as a null-jack, a device used to temporarily disable implant computers, usually to prevent recording of sensory data. “Plug this in,” the man demanded.
“So you can hack my brain?” AJ asked. He shuffled backward in an attempt to keep his body between the mercs and Bella. “Besides,” he added, “it isn’t even necessary. My implant hasn’t worked for ten years and I have to be jacked in to record anything.”
“Plug it in,” the thug-in-chief repeated, “or we shoot you and then have a party with your meh lien duh jyah jee.” Bella inhaled sharply and AJ grimaced. He studied the four men arrayed against him for a moment before grimly admitting that he was completely out of options. A firefight in such close quarters would end only in a bloody, senseless death, and the very notion of Bella being gang-raped because of him caused his stomach to turn.
Holding his free hand up to indicate acquiescence, he knelt slowly and placed his las-pistol on the floor before kicking it behind him so it was out of reach of everyone. He rose and held out his hand for the null-jack. With a crooked, malicious smile, the thug-in-chief tossed the small device toward him. AJ caught it easily and fought down a shiver before plugging the null-jack in.
“There,” he said flatly. “Now what?”
“He’s ready,” the head-thug said into the comm-badge on the back of his hand.
There was a long, awkward silence, as both parties tried not to look at each other. AJ hazarded a glance behind him to see if Bella was okay. She mouthed the word, “Sorry.” AJ was about to say something in response, when the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of the door-buzzer. One of the goons hit the release button.
| AJ Trent
Bella Venice
| A man entered the apartment, of less than impressive stature, chewing a lit cigar. Though dressed plainly, he had the swagger of a dashing, stage showman. As he strutted into the room, he glanced over the immediate area, as if he were thinking of buying the place. “I like this place. Very … cozy,” he said, with a subtle dramatic pause. Looking up and down Bella, who was doing her best to blend in behind AJ, he added with a smirk, “Nice … furniture.”
“Mister Sylvester, I presume,” AJ said as calmly as he could manage, which, he had to admit, probably wasn’t very calm. If even half the stories about this man were true, he was quite possibly one of the most dangerous men AJ had ever had the misfortune of meeting.
“Smart guy, this one,” the Tamborro kingpin informed his henchmen, pointing casually at AJ, as if they might have missed it had he not told them. “Smart is good. Not too smart, I hope,” he continued. He paused to take a drag off his cigar, and resumed his soliloquy. “You stole something from me — I didn’t have it in my hands at the time, but it was mine. I feel like a little boy who’s lost his first tooth, put it under his pillow, waiting for the tooth fairy to come … only, an evil burglar has crept in my window, and snatched it, before she could get here. Clark was gonna sell me that blackbox … we had a deal, and I take a deal … very seriously, as I’m sure a smart guy like you can understand. Now tell me … where is my blackbox?”
“The captain of the CSS Ajax took it,” AJ said hesitantly. It wasn’t exactly a lie, although it was certainly a slight bending of the truth. Turning over the box had been AJ’s idea, although there wasn’t much chance that they would have been able to keep it anyway. “And in our defense,” he added quickly, “that jackass Sabo said it was his.” Trent shook his head. “I knew I should have shot him in the head.”
The kingpin responded, “I’m very disappointed — I had my heart set on having that blackbox … I know some people that would pay me a lotta money for that thing. I guess you were disappointed, too, having something … that precious, taken away from you, just like that … by a wong ba duhn pirate hunter, who is probably using it himself, at this very minute. It’s a shame.
“So, where does that leave us?” Sly continued, after a quick puff of his cigar. “See … you stealing my things should make you my enemy, only I don’t have any enemies. I have friends, and I have people I don’t know very well … sometimes I have people … who need to take the cold dark swim. I want you to be my friend, not be like Mr. Clark, who … well, sadly, I had to let him go, ’cause he didn’t deliver what he promised.
“So, here’s how we’re gonna make you my very good friend, so you don’t have to go swimming with Mr. Clark,” the mobster said, before making a dramatic pause, for effect, looking AJ in the eye, like a scolding father-figure. “You’re gonna do this job for me … it’s a nice little smuggling job, worth a lot to me, perfect for a smart guy, like you, with your skills. There’s this shindig coming up in a couple of days, on Celestia. I wan’t you to go in there and talk to this guy … a friend of mine … I’ll get you the details real soon. It’s kind of an exclusive thing, but I think I can swing a couple of tickets to this thing, for my very good friend … You can take the ma tze for a nice evening, maybe get some trim when you get back … maybe before. That’s up to you,” he said with a wink, before continuing. “So, do we have a deal, here? Are we friends now?”
“When you put it that way,” AJ said with a forced smile, “how can I refuse?”
“See?” Sly asked, smiling as he looked at his thugs, as if they cared. “Smart guy. I like this guy.” He added, looking at his new ‘friend,’“Instructions, and those tickets, will be in your mail soon. Don’t disappoint me like Mr. Clark, so we can stay friends.”
With a friendly hand-clap on AJ’s arm, and a kiss in Bella’s direction, Zachary Sylvester leisurely strolled out the apartment door and down the hall, followed shortly by his men, one of whom stayed behind to collect the null-jack before leaving, himself.
And the moment the door shut, AJ legs gave out. He slid slowly to the floor before looking up and meeting Bella’s worried eyes.
“I am so humped,” he muttered.
After a long, concerned pause, Bella sat down on the floor next to AJ. Suddenly, the concern in her face morphed into her usual cheery smile, and she said, “So … this one’s yours…” as she handed AJ one of the take-out boxes.
| Sly
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Post by Rigil Kent on Mar 27, 2010 21:08:16 GMT -6
For the life of him, AJ couldn’t remember what the food tasted like.
After sitting on the floor for several minutes, staring at the wall while he tried to figure a way out of the hole life kept digging him into, Trent had pushed himself to his feet so he could extend the bed and put it in ‘lounge mode.’ He pulled Bella to her feet and together, they sat on the bed-couch where they ate in silence.
“I’m sorry that I got you into this,” AJ finally said. Bella looked up from where she was playing with her food and Trent smiled-grimaced-flinched. “The way Sylvester talked about you coming with me to Celestia,” he said, “I think that meant he expects you to be there.”
“Celestia. I’ve had plenty of calls there. Nice place. Some good times…” Bella mused, trailing off.
AJ wondered if she were actually listening to him — or simply hiding her own fears under a mask of absent-minded optimism. He continued, “And we can’t go to the authorities either. No telling how long his reach is.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, Trent slumped back against the backrest of the couch. “This sucks,” he declared. Try as he might, he couldn’t see a way out of this mess. If the rumors about Sylvester’s modus operandi were true, this little mission was just the prelude and would inevitably lead to just one more, with each one digging the hole that much deeper. “We need to keep this between us,” he said. “Let’s not involve anyone that we don’t have to.” Unspoken was AJ’s worry that Sylvester was monitoring everything and probably even had a couple of listening devices planted somewhere in this apartment. How the hell was he going to get word to Tulk to implement counter-intelligence?
For the next twenty minutes or so, they sat in silence, and AJ did his best to simply focusing on enjoying the moment. It had been a long time since he felt this comfortable around a woman — he couldn’t figure out if it was her training as a Companion or something else entirely. Eventually, he forced himself to his feet and gave her a look.
“I’ve got a meeting with the company in a few hours,” he said, “so I need to get moving.” To his surprise, he saw — or at least thought he saw — a flare of panicked fear in her eyes that was quickly suppressed. “You can come with,” AJ added quickly, “if you like.”
“Sounds lovely,” Bella replied, and he almost believed that she meant it. The flicker of concern was back, and AJ finally connected the dots. Without letting himself think too much, he pulled his autopistol out of the under-arm holster.
“There are eighteen rounds in the magazine,” he said as he offered the weapon to her, “and one already chambered.” Bella blinked in surprise. “Integrated laser sight should help you hit your target,” AJ continued, “but always aim for the chest. Shooting someone in the leg looks easy on the vids, but it’s a lot harder in real life.” When she continued to hesitate, Trent reached forward and took one of her hands which he then placed the pistol in. He gave her clothes a quick once-over. “That dress won’t hide this shoulder holster,” he added, “so we’ll have to look at getting something else for you down the road.”
“Ooh, shopping!” Bella beamed facetiously, as she seated the pistol into the inside of her purse, almost without thinking. AJ nodded, ignoring the “shopping” comment.
“That’ll do for now,” he said before stripping off his holster. The spare magazine he kept there went into the purse with the pistol and he looked up to find her studying him with that young-old gaze she had mastered. Judging by the look in her eyes, she was about to burst into tears, push him to the bed and have her way with him — that his preferred way of saying thank you — or recoil from him as if he spontaneously acquired leprosy. Since two of the options were ones he wasn’t keen on witnessing, AJ turned away and walked to where he’d kicked his las-pistol. After checking that it was fully functional, he slid it back into the small holster at the small of his back before glancing back at her; her mask of careful poise was firmly back in place. “You ready?” he asked.
“I’m certainly getting there,” she replied cryptically.
| AJ Trent
Bella Venice
| | NE Wharfs, Tamborro Station, and DSD, LLC’s Dockhouse | They made good time getting to the warehouse-slash-office.
It was barely zero eight thirty local and the various concourses were busy with locals and visitors, but the usual traffic snarls that always seemed to delay the trip were mysteriously absent. AJ knew it was nothing more than a coincidence, but the superstitious spacer in him couldn’t help but to wonder if Sylvester had something to do with it. Everywhere he looked, he saw potential threats and suspicious people who might or might not be monitoring him for the mobster. He didn’t even trust his wristcomp and left it in the go-bag slung over his shoulder; the worry that it had been hacked or was tapped just made it too dangerous to use.
Tulk was already at his desk when AJ and Bella entered, but that wasn’t much of a surprise since the man’s business acumen and drive to improve the company’s fortunes was probably one of the sole reasons they were still surviving. At sight of Bella, Tulk’s eyebrows climbed and he shot Trent a half-amused, half-annoyed look that promptly faded when AJ gave him a discreet head shake. It may have been the tight expression on AJ’s face, but Tulk phase-shifted into what Trent thought of as his ‘paranoid’ mode without a word having to be said.
And when AJ tapped the watercooler next to the door exactly three times — a code Tulk had taught them that indicated likely surveillance — Tulk’s expression darkened even further.
“Hope you don’t mind,” AJ said with forced cheer, “Bella didn’t want to be alone in my apartment so I brought her along.” The raven-haired woman smiled brightly.
“As long as she doesn’t get in the way,” Tulk replied smoothly. “Your televid down again?” he asked, and Trent heaved a silent sigh of relief at the comment. It too had been part of the procedures the ex-businessman had taught the members of the company; at the time, AJ had thought he was being silly or perhaps overly paranoid, but now? Now, he was glad of it.
“Sure is,” he answered, acknowledging Tulk’s true question about whether the office might be compromised. With a nod, the company purser returned his attention to the paperwork he was dealing with, although AJ suspected he was actually doing a secret sweep for bugs.
“Oh, shiny!” Bella exclaimed as she took a seat on the small couch and turned on the TV. “Flash Hazard is on!”
AJ sank into his own chair and powered up his deskcomp. He gave Tulk a quick, sidelong glance, and the other man nodded fractionally in response to the unanswered question. Yes, he was doing a sweep.
After a lengthy pause, Tulk got up from his desk, and beckoned, “Hey AJ, I want you to come look at something on the ship. I was thinking about making some modifications. Hold down the fort for a bit, Miss Venice.” Bella gave a mock-salute, as the two left the office, and headed back through the warehouse to the concourse.
AJ followed Tulk downstairs and back toward the lock, as he punched in the security code and entered the ship through the rear personnel access, inset into the closed cargo ramp. He flipped on the lights and closed the door behind them.
“Sweep’s clean. What’s the story?” Tulk asked, straight-faced as a star card-player.
“Sly,” AJ said, frowning.
“Stay clear of him,” Tulk cautioned.
“Too late,” AJ responded with a sigh.
“Ri shao gou shi bing…” Tulk muttered. “What happened?”
“I had a visit this morning,” AJ began with a groan, “from none other than the elusive Mister Sylvester himself.” Tulk’s eyes widened. “Apparently,” Trent continued, “he’s very put out over that whole ‘we stole the blackbox from Clark’ thing because Sly had plans for it.” AJ slumped back against the bulkhead. “So,” he said flatly, “to make things all better — and to avoid getting spaced, which is probably more important — I had to agree to some unnamed smuggling job in the immediate future.”
“That was stupid,” Tulk muttered and AJ speared him with a hot look.
“I had four mooks in my tiny apartment, all with guns pointed at my head at the time,” he growled. “It isn’t like I had much say in the matter!”
“So you actually saw Sly?” the other man asked after a long moment. His eyes automatically dropped to the currently bare arm where Trent normally wore his wristcomp.
“They made me put a null-jack in,” he admitted before grunting in surprise. “They made me put a null-jack in,” he repeated softly. “That means they didn’t know my implant computer doesn’t function,” Trent realized, “which means he’s not as well-informed as I thought he was.” Narrowing his eyes, AJ frowned. “Maybe I can get word to Agent Diggs,” he mused before glancing at Tulk. “Any ideas?” he asked.
Tulk reflected for a moment, and answered. “Sly’s paid-up with the right people here on the station — going to the cops would be a bad idea. If you try to get word to HSCIS, you’ll want to do it through other outside channels.” Tulk paused briefly, considering, and continued. “On the other hand, Sly’s reputation is solid — he pays, and well, and he looks after his people. You probably don’t have to worry about Triads right now. Good businessman. Wouldn’t hurt to have him on our side, as long as we keep him at arms length. Plus, it’s possible he might just drop the matter if we do this job… Wouldn’t hurt to get more information, either way.”
“Right.” AJ frowned; he shouldn’t have been surprised that Tulk would recommend actually working for this psycho — if half the stories Steg told, they’d worked for worse — but he was. “If this comes back and bites me in the ass,” he added, “I’m going to haunt you until the end of your days.” Tulk shrugged indifferently. “We should get back,” AJ said as he pushed himself off the bulkhead. “Wouldn’t want to look suspicious, would we?”
“Not yet,” Tulk said, holding up a finger, before producing his palm-datapad from a pocket. “Gonna need a few more minutes.”
“For what?” AJ asked.
“Honesty test,” Tulk responded, holding out the datapad for AJ to view; there he saw, from the perspective of a cleverly-hidden camera, Bella sitting on the office couch, flipping channels on the televid player, seemingly oblivious to the world. As the two watched, Tulk explained, “I left my desk-comp unlocked, with some business records open — if she’s got it in mind to fleece the company, this is her golden opportunity.”
He closed the datapad, putting it back in his pocket. “It’ll take some time to finish the background check — waiting for records to come in from outsystem, and all. I did get whatever was locally available, and it wasn’t much. No contact with the local Guild offices, but some call records outsystem — nothing more specific, yet. No work records. No residences. No bank accounts — don’t ask. A couple of entries on ship manifests, here and there, moving around a lot … Basically, she’s homeless and broke, except for what she’s got on her at the moment. She’s a vagrant. My guess is she’s a grifter — maybe not out to steal anything. Convinces ‘monied’ individuals that she’s a bona fide Guild Companion, and gets paid for … whatever it is she does,” he said with a smirk. “Either that, or she’s some kind of spy, with some exceptional connections … her travels don’t lend themselves to any particular mission, though.”
“Figures,” AJ muttered, disappointed that Bella had been lying to him but not particularly surprised. Nothing was ever simple for him, was it? Still, if life had taught him anything it as that everyone deserved a second chance. Well, almost everyone. The only good Tohre Chi was a dead one. “Why me, though?” he asked aloud. “I don’t exactly fit the description of a ‘monied’ individual.” He grimaced — had he remembered to pay his bill at the dojo?
“Well, if I were her, and I wanted to get offworld ASAP, I would’ve been looking for the first lonely sap in mag-boots that had ‘captain’ written all over him — assuming I haven’t misjudged her character,” Tulk replied, with a knowing smirk.
| Tulk
| “It sure as hell ain’t your winning personality.” Steg’s voice drifted through the cargo bay, catching AJ by surprise and causing him to jump. Tulk, however, simply glowered as the ex-Marine approached, reeking of alcohol and still wearing the same clothes he was yesterday.
“Don’t you have an apartment?” Tulk demanded. Steg shrugged.
“Fell behind on the rent,” he replied. “Paperwork to reactivate my access codes is taking a while to process.”
“Go take a gorram shower,” Tulk snapped. “You reek.” In response, the former Marine belched loudly and turned away. AJ waited until Steg disappeared up the ladder leading to the cabins to focus his ire on Tulk.
“You knew he was here.” It wasn’t a question and Tulk didn’t treat it as one.
“Of course I did,” he replied. “I was in the office when he staggered in last night,” he added. “Doubt he even knew I was here.” Trent shook his head and bit back a response. “Still waiting on more info on that Malkin character,” Tulk added, as an afterthought.
“How long do we need to stay here?” he asked. A headache was already starting to build between his eyes.
“Guess that’s all for now — we’ll need to go over the details of this new op we’ve got coming. If you want, you can give Mish a wave … see if we can start a bit early.” Tulk said.
“You ever known her to be up before nine if she didn’t have to be?” AJ asked as he walked toward the hatch. “But I’ll call her anyway.” In reply, Tulk merely grunted.
But then, AJ was getting used to that sort of response.
| Steg
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Post by Gigermann on Apr 2, 2010 10:01:30 GMT -6
At last, all the crew of the Bad Omen, the partners and employees of DSD, LLP, had arrived.
Last in, Ty was stopped at the door by a representative of the local postal service, bearing a large envelope. At the postman’s inquiry, Ty jabbed a thumb toward the upstairs offices, left his thumb-print on the man’s datapad as confirmation of the package’s receipt, and took possession of it. He thanked the postal worker and climbed the stairs to the office, passing the package to AJ before settling into his own desk chair.
“He certainly didn’t waste any time,” AJ muttered under his breath. He shot a quick glance first to Tulk – who frowned – then to Bella – who offered him a forced smile before returning her attention back to the televid and the episode of Flash Hazard currently showing. At a glance, Trent could tell it was the same damned one that always seemed to be on whenever the show aired, and he returned his focus to the courier package now before him. The urge to throw the thing into the nearest recycler surged, especially the instant he realized Mishka was studying him with a worry in her eyes.
“Let’s get started,” Tulk declared sharply. “As you can tell,” he added, gesturing briefly in Bella’s direction, “we have a guest so watch what you say.”
“Because she’s such a threat,” Mishka muttered, rolling her eyes. At Tulk’s look, she blushed. “We still need to replace the tertiary pulse injector on engine two,” she said quickly. “If it blows, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Noted,” Tulk said, but the diminutive blond continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“We’re also gonna need to replace about fifteen buffer panels thanks that to stupid stunt AJ pulled,” she pointed out, ticking off her points as she spoke. “The primary atmo regulator probably needs to be replaced because it’s showing a lot of wear, and I’d like to do a full coolant flush just to be safe.” She grimaced. “And that’s not even taking into account the electrical faults in the sensor array.”
As Mishka continued to rant – she’d call it something else, of course – AJ tuned her complaints out. He’d heard them all before and knew her well enough to recognize hyperbole and general exaggeration when he heard it. If the situation was truly that bad, she’d be on the verge of a panic attack, not talking so quickly that it was hard understand what she was actually saying. Besides, the courier package sitting in front of him was impossible to ignore.
It was little more than a certified letter envelope, with no return address or origin indicator. With a soft sigh, AJ silently opened the package and tipped the contents out onto his desk: a pair of flashy-looking tickets bearing the embossed emblem of the Interstellar Historical Society; a matching digital brochure, announcing a fund-raising display event to be held on Celestia in two days; and, a printed photograph of a well-dressed human, a black man with chiseled features, with the phrase, "A mutual friend—Lee," scrawled in the corner.
“Celestia, huh?” Steg’s question was soft and clearly intended only for AJ’s ears, and Trent glanced up to find the burly former Marine sitting on the corner of his desk. Without asking permission, Steg reached for the tickets. “Just two?” Automatically, AJ glanced toward Bella – she was still staring at the televid, but from tenseness of her body language, Trent suspected she wasn’t actually watching it – and the former Marine grunted in understanding. If the smirk he gave was any indication, it was also in amusement.
“We’re going to Celestia?” Mishka interjected abruptly, excitement momentarily lighting her eyes the instant she saw the two tickets.
“No,” AJ replied tightly as slid the photograph into his jacket pocket. “I’m going to Celestia. You’ll stay here.” Where it’s safe, he finished silently. The dark expressions that flashed across multiple faces – Mishka, Steg, Tulk – contrasted with the open confusion Ty was wearing.
“Aww…pish!” Mish grumbled. She gave Bella a jealous look that caused the raven-haired woman to flinch fractionally. “I never get to go anywhere nice.”
“You’re gonna need backup,” Steg said at the same time, “Y'know, in case things get bloody.”
“Did we get a job and nobody told me?” Ty asked, his own question lost in the other conversations taking place.
“Why would things get bloody?” Mish demanded of Steg, abandoning her former line of questioning as abruptly as she began it.
“Uh,” the former Marine stammered. His eyes darted. “You know how things tend to blow up around him,” he said under the weight of her glare.
“It's a one-off job,” Tulk told Coleman. “Something a ... friend of AJ's set him up with.”
“That's true,” Mish admitted. “He'd better behave himself over there. Anybody who's anybody is going to be at that showing—it's a big deal, every year.”
“When?” Ty asked. “We’re set for that maintenance overhaul the day after tomorrow and that’s not something we can afford to reschedule.”
“That’s enough!” AJ snapped, his uncharacteristic loss of composure causing all eyes to jump to him. “This doesn’t involve the crew,” he said tightly, hoping none of them were paying much attention to him. You’re the worst liar I have ever met, Julie had once told him, and, many years later, Tulk had said pretty much the same thing. “So let’s keep to our schedule,” he added. “Get the maintenance taken care of and keep flying.”
“Amen, brother,” Steg muttered.
“That said,” Tulk said, “we need to focus on being ready for the techs to come aboard.”
“We are ready,” Mish retorted. She gave AJ another look and narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re not planning on going to Celestia in that,” she said, adding, “Did you look at the dress-code?” AJ frowned.
“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” he said, glowering when Bella and Mishka snorted. They exchanged a knowing glance and a smirk that made AJ’s ears burn.
“Let me give you the address of a guy I know,” Mish said. She scribbled a name and address on one of the small notepads AJ kept on hand before offering it to him with a smile. “He can get a little handsy with men,” she added, her eyes dancing, “but you really should pay him a visit.” When AJ started to reply, she exhaled. “Trust me on this,” she said. “If you’re going to this thing, you need to look like you actually belong.” Turning her attention to the company’s guest, she continued, “How about you, Bella? You have something appropriate to wear? You didn't bring much with you…”
“Anyway,” Tulk interrupted. “AJ’s gonna talk to this contact, and get me the details on this new job—we’ll meet again once we know more. In the meantime, I’m gonna start looking at freight contracts to see what’s available. We’ve got a lot of money to make if we’re going to do our part to save the bar. The rest of you know your responsibilities—business as usual. Stay in contact, in case something comes up.”
As the meeting began to break up, AJ noticed a subtle nod from Betty that he interpreted to mean that she wished to speak privately.
“Yes?” AJ said once the office had cleared out. Mish hadn’t even noticed that the android was remaining behind, so intent was she on speaking with Bella and discussing the best spots on Tambo station to acquire good dresses. Ty had been a step behind to the two women, a bemused expression on his face; he was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he was also watching their hips sway as they walked down the office stairs, and Steg, ever the uncouth former Marine, had slid into step alongside Coleman and began elbowing him with a knowing grin. Tulk was the only one still in the office, and he wasn’t even bothering to conceal the fact he was trying to eavesdrop on whatever Betty had to say.
“As you know…” the android began, in the calming, matronly manner she typically used when filling her “ship’s counselor” role, “It's my responsibility to see to the mental and emotional health of the crew. In that capacity, I feel the need to inquire …your behavior, of late, has been more troubled than usual, beyond what the ‘obvious’ situation demands. And now, I couldn’t help but notice that this worry is beginning to affect the other crewmembers. Now, either the others are beginning to be sympathetically affected by your behavior, or something else is going on.” Betty looked into AJ’s eyes—or soul?—indicating without words that she expected some explanation.
Trent sighed. He should have expected this – Betty was nothing if not observant, especially when it came to the behavior of the crew, and he had to admit that he’d been acting pretty out-of-character lately; ever since he met Bella, he mused darkly – but still, he wished the android had chosen some other time for an intervention. Leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off another stress headache.
“It’s been a rough couple of days,” he dissembled. “In between this mess with Bella,” he continued quickly, hoping Betty wouldn’t press too hard since her charge was even now heading off alone with an unknown quantity, “and finding out that Julie’s getting remarried, I haven’t had time to really decompress.” AJ forced a smile on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he promised. Even to his ears, his explanation sounded weak. When she did not immediately respond, he quickly added, “Je vous remercie pour votre solicitude.”
“Mon capitaine,” the artificial-person responded with a knowing smile. “You can, of course, hold back what’s really going on if you choose to. However, you should know that whatever you do say will be kept in strict confidence unless you specify otherwise. Are you certain you don’t want to…decompress, now? Better to treat the disease before it grows inoperable, don’t you think?”
“Another time, perhaps,” AJ said carefully. He knew the android wouldn’t let this go, but hopefully, she’d let it slide for the moment. Besides, what exactly was he going to tell her? ‘Yes, I’m stressed because I’ve realized I’m not now and may never have been in love with my ex-wife, the woman I’ve spent way too long pining after, even though I can’t remember the last time I actually liked her? And I’ve just met a woman who my every instinct is telling me is probably bad news but I can’t seem to just write her out of my life even though I know she’s probably manipulating me? Oh, and by the way, it looks like we may be working for Zachary Sylvester, who may or may not have us all murdered because its Wednesday?’
Yeah. That’d go over well.
“If you want,” he added, “we can schedule a psych check-up for next week. You can pick my brain then.” AJ forced another tight smile. “Until then, though,” he said, “all I ask is that you trust me.” He briefly considered telling her that he knew what he was doing, but in all honesty, the last three days was pretty solid proof that he didn’t.
| AJ Trent
Steg
Tulk
Ty
Mishka
Betty
Bella
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Post by Rigil Kent on Dec 27, 2010 14:55:52 GMT -6
Handsy didn’t begin to describe the tailor.
A massive man with skin so dark it looked like polished ebony, Mohammed Elim was a study in contrasts. Standing just shy of two meters in height, the man moved with the unmistakable grace of someone accustomed to low gravity situations, and the distinctive scars on his knuckles marked him as a gravball player moreso than the half dozen trophies openly displayed on the walls. The cut of his dishadasha and jubba was exquisite, and identified him as a member of the Reformed Submissionists, a small Islamic sect known for preaching a totally nonviolent way of life, but Elim’s mannerisms seemed completely at odds with their fundamentalist teachings.
Put simply: he simpered.
Seeing a man-mountain like this – his clothes weren’t able to conceal the thickness of the tailor’s arms; he made Steg look tiny in comparison – prance around his office and speak with a high-pitched, almost girlish squeal in his voice was disconcerting as hell, and AJ had no idea how to react. Which, he suspected, was probably Mish’s intent in the first place and he silently made the decision to retaliate in some fashion. Maybe he should encourage Ty to ask her out? Or even better, hint to Ted Glick that she was interested in the bouncer’s attentions? That was a disaster just waiting to happen. Oh yes, AJ reflected with a tight smile. Vengeance would be his.
Despite his discomfort with Master Elim’s … wandering hands, AJ had to admit that the man knew his craft, and he departed the tailor’s shop nearly an hour later, satisfied that, once complete, the suit would both fit and be comfortable which was not always a given. The price tag was a little difficult to swallow – two hundred pounds, which would have normally paid for five or six changes of clothes on a regular day – but AJ didn’t bother trying to argue the cost down. Once, an eternity ago in a different life, he would have owned a dozen similar suits in his closet and he had to admit, it would be nice to wear something that wasn’t solely utilitarian. And besides, if they managed to expand the business, he’d occasionally need to present a good image, right? Wanting to look good for a change had absolutely nothing to do with trying to impress Bella. Absolutely nothing.
AJ sighed. He wasn’t even good at lying to himself.
From Master Elim’s shop, he made his way to the clinic with the intent of canceling the appointment to reactivate the computer implant since it fell on the same day he was expected to be aboard Celestia. Much to his surprise though, the receptionist was able to push the surgery forward to tomorrow – the patient whose place he was taking had tried to rob one of the station shops, unaware that it was frequently inhabited by off-duty security personnel; apparently, they were still mopping up his remains – and AJ eagerly agreed to the new appointment time. He’d have to postpone his meeting with Desi, but she’d understand. It wasn’t until five minutes later, as he flagged down one of the auto-cabs, that it occurred to him Sly might be responsible for his sudden change of fortune and, quite suddenly, AJ’s mood took a sharp, precipitous nose-dive. Was it still safe to go ahead and get the implant reactivated now? Tulk had investigated the clinic pretty thoroughly when AJ first broached the subject a couple of weeks back, but now, with Tambo’s very own crime lord taking an interest in them, was it still safe? How hard would it be for Sylvester to arrange for a brain-bug to be installed?
| AJ Trent | | Hard Vacuum, Interior & Exterior | He was still turning over his options when auto-cab reached the recharge station that was his destination. It was only a few moments from the bar by foot – he could actually see the stairs leading up to the Hard Vacuum – and was actually little more than an empty lot with several docking ports for the tiny cars. Something felt off, though, and AJ gave his surroundings a quick glance before muttering a soft curse and damning himself for being too paranoid. He had walked halfway to the Krav Maga dojo when it hit him—he had seen “customers” walking into the bar. Anson never lets anyone in the bar before noon…ever. He hadn't gotten a good enough look to recall whether or not they looked like trouble—too busy damning himself for being too paranoid.
Automatically, AJ reached for his wristcomp, intending to contact Steg and Tulk, and he cursed softly when his fingers touched bare skin. The damned thing was still in his go- bag, which he’d intentionally left behind in the office. Mentally, he ticked off his available weapons – the las-pistol at his back; the nine mil – no, he’d given that to Bella earlier this morning; the knife in his boot; the boots themselves; his only slightly above average Krav Maga skills – before quickly retracing his steps to the small flight of stairs leading up into the bar. He risked a quick look around the corner in the hopes of locating the non “customers.” He could see shadows moving around inside, past the foyer, but no more, though he could just make out what sounded like shouting coming from further in.
He hesitated for only a heartbeat – Anson was a friend and Trent would be damned if he was going to sit around while the bar was robbed – before wrapping his fingers around the holstered las-pistol and pulling it free. The charge indicator was a solid bar of green, and AJ closed his eyes for another second, just long enough to determine his course of action. The manual release for the fire suppression system was a few meters down the wall from the main entrance and was hardcoded into the station; triggering it would alert the authorities and the response would be fairly prompt since there was little more dangerous than fire on an enclosed station like Tambo. If things went south before then, well ... he’d figure that out when it became necessary.
Blowing out a soft breath, AJ crept around the corner and slowly advanced toward the bar, hugging the shadows as best as he could. He spotted a handful of armed lurk-rats—a local term for the miscellaneous ne'er-do-wells that infested colonies or stations like Tambo—plus Anson and Ted, past the end of the bar, next to the open office door. Two of the larger thugs were wrestling with Ted, struggling to hold him in a kneeling position, while Anson knelt in surrender nearby, hands behind his head, cursing his captors, who shouted vile threats and demands for payment. The apparent “leader,” still pointing his slugthrower at Anson, stopped, mid-sentence, to stare directly at AJ, silhouetted against the entryway.
The moment stretched out into a short eternity. Although he knew it was likely his imagination, AJ sincerely thought he could see the "leader's" thoughts racing as their eyes met. The man visibly jumped - obviously, he had not been expecting to see someone here - and began to shift the point of his aim, away from Anson and toward AJ.
"Hi there," Trent said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. The thug leader glanced down to where Anson knelt, then back at AJ, and then back to Anson before shifting his attention ever so briefly toward his nearest cohort. And in that moment, AJ acted. Without pausing to let himself consider the wisdom of his action, he leveled his las-pistol and fired.
Directly at the overhead light fixtures.
The lights exploded in a shower of sparks that rained down atop the lurk-rats, causing most of them to jerk back or yelp in surprise. AJ threw himself forward, hugging the wall as he darted toward the fire alarm on the nearby wall. It was a wild gamble - he vaguely recalled Anson throwing Em and Steg out for a night when they tried to activate it on a drunken dare, only to discover that it didn't work - but that didn't stop him for a picosecond; if nothing else, he knew it would put him in a better spot to flank the lurk-rats if necessary.
A startled shout warned him that at least one of the thugs was reacting, and out of the corner of his eye, AJ could see the lurk-rat spring forward, racking a round into the shotgun he carried as he moved. There was too much junk between them - battered tables, chairs balanced on top of those tables so Ted had access to the floor beneath, stools that would normally be bunched underneath the lip of the bar - for the man to get a clear shot, but AJ kept himself as low as possible without sacrificing speed. He reached the fire alarm a bare heartbeat later and pulled on it.
But nothing happened.
Cursing softly under his breath, AJ whipped around, bringing his las-pistol up in the two-handed grip he was most comfortable with. As the shotgun wielding lurk-rat was reaching the end of the bar and bringing his weapon to bear, AJ lightly pressed the two-stage trigger, causing the weapon in his hands to flash a harmless laser-dot on the target, while simultaneously, releasing the glare-shield to pop forward and lock into place. AJ drew in a single breath and shifted his aim ever so slightly before depressing the trigger stud further. The air reverberated with a trio of loud, electric “cracks,” as the las-pistol spat out scarlet pulses of fire that exploded the lurk-rat's shotgun, with a near-blinding, red-tinted flash. Too late, the thug tried to duck back behind cover, and with a cry of shock, he dropped the smoking, shattered ruin that had once been his weapon.
"Cops on the way!" AJ shouted as the man completely vanished behind the bar. Behind him, AJ could see another of the lurk-rats shuffling forward and quickly shifted his aim at the man. "Surrender!" he exclaimed, but even before he could finish speaking, the thug dove for cover, flipping one of the tables to one side and crouching behind it. His shotgun poked around the table, its targeting sight flickering out toward AJ. Options flashed through Trent's mind, but he shoved them aside. This man stood between him and safety for Anson and Ted.
AJ fired again.
Laser pulses ripped their way through the poor cover that was the plastic table, gouging deep holes through the crouching lurker’s torso, the flash briefly lighting up the hostile’s silhouette in a deep red that almost matched the wall behind. Without another sound, the man collapsed, smoke curling up from the holes in table and from the small flames now dotting the lurk-rat's clothes. AJ swallowed his instinctive flash of self-disgust - he'd seen enough bodies in his life to recognize a corpse - but shuffled back toward the door, keeping his weapon at the ready.
To his relief, though, it appeared that the fight had gone out of the lurk-rats. Ted had one of them in a sleeper hold while Anson, still seated on the floor, had another dead to rights, an ugly-looking machine-pistol in his hands.
"I think it's time for you boys to blow," Anson growled darkly.
"This isn't over," the man Anson was threatening said.
"It can be," Anson retorted. "I've got plenty of room in my freezer for your stupid ass."
"We'd have to cut them up so they fit," Ted interjected, his words causing the four lurk-rats to visibly pale.
"Leave the weapons," AJ ordered when they began backing toward the door. The apparent leader started to comment, but bit back whatever it was he was about to say when he caught sight of the unmoving figure on the floor. With a sharp head jerk, he wordlessly ordered one of his gang - the one whose shotgun AJ had destroyed earlier - to heft their fallen comrade and carry him out. After they backed out through the front door, safe from any immediate punishment, the leader called out, “You know this ain’t over, Old Man!”
A moment later, they were gone.
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Anson Law “Proprietor”
Ted Glick “Bouncer” |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 16, 2012 13:34:03 GMT -6
“Third time this month…since I know you’re ’bout to ask,” Anson offered, as he walked into the office through the still-open door. As AJ followed, he could see the old man pull down a bin from the ceiling and toss the lurker’s machine-pistol into it, along with quite a few others, no doubt, acquired in a similar manner. He accepted the shotgun AJ offered and it too went into the bin.
“What exactly do they want?” AJ asked, noting with some approval that Ted had taken up a place next to the door and was keeping an eye out for the retreating gang.
Anson answered, as he released the bin’s lanyard, allowing it to spring back into the ceiling. “Oh, the usual—money. Protection racket. Been hittin’ everyone on the block lately. Some are payin’ up. Some aren’t. Drivin’ decent folk outta business—I think we both know why that is.”
Ted added, “I think they’re growin’ these lurks in hydroponics—we knock ’em down, they keep bringin’ more the next time.”
“They’re gettin’ smarter…” Anson frowned as he produced a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, and continued, after taking a drag, “Jumped us when we were openin’ the bar, this time. Next time, we might not be so lucky to have an armed customer happen by. Stopped calling the police about it—they never show—prob’ly paid off.” He trailed off for a moment, thinking; AJ could almost detect a flicker of actual concern on his face, all too briefly belying the usual cantankerous bravado.
“It’s too bad lasers don’t burn a neat little hole in a person, like in the old vids,” Ted mused aloud, breaking the momentary silence, having returned from his watch to survey the damage. “Might as well have been a slug, for such a gorram mess.”
The grizzled bartender sighed. “Let’s get this mi tian gohn off my wall…and get that light replaced,” he called back at Ted. He then turned back to AJ, and slapped him on the back. “We’ll get this cleaned up. You go on. If the cops show, I’ll wave ya. Oh, and you owe me a table,” he added with a wink, and a nod to the aforementioned mess.
AJ frowned. He had a dozen questions – were the thugs working for Lordsco or was this just rank opportunism, and had he just made the situation worse by killing one of the lurk-rats? For that matter, did he just paint his crew as a target as well? – but didn’t know where to begin. Still, just doing nothing wasn’t an option, no matter how proud Anson was.
“Give Steg a call,” AJ recommended as he returned the las-pistol to the holster at the small of his back. “He and Tulk should have some ideas about how to … discourage these trouducs from harassing you for a while.” Briefly, AJ wondered if Steg would conduct an assault on the lurk-rats once he found out about them – bringing the former Marine into this would very likely result in further bloodshed – but just as quickly realized he didn’t much care either way. “You have my contact numbers,” he continued. “If you need my help, don’t hesitate to call.”
Anson grunted but offered no further reply as he bent to help Ted with the clean-up. Recognizing that he had effectively been dismissed, AJ turned and walked quietly from the bar.
He kept an eye out for a reprisal ambush by the lurk-rat survivors as he resumed his journey to the dojo-slash-synagogue; a split-level building, the lower floor was utilized principally as a gym where the rabbi instructed members of his congregation – and those willing to pay for instruction – in the Israeli martial art known as Krav Maga, while the upper floor was restricted to Jewish religious ceremonies. The disconnect between being a master of an especially lethal combat art and a devout man of God did not seem to trouble Rabbi Ari Ben-Gidon, but AJ had long since stopped trying to figure the old man out and instead simply focused on the lessons being taught. |
AJ Trent
Anson Law “Proprietor”
Ted Glick “Bouncer” |
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Post by Gigermann on Mar 20, 2012 11:34:02 GMT -6
By the time AJ departed from the dojo, it was nearing fourteen hundred Station Local and much of his body ached. Ben-Gidon had immediately noticed that he was distracted and had intensified the training session, forcing AJ to concentrate even more intently on what he was doing. That was one of the reasons AJ enjoyed these training sessions – during them, there was no time to think about anything but what he was doing right now. In a lot of ways, it was a form of meditation.
As he was about to leave, AJ happened to notice a picture on the far wall of the dojo – mixed in with other students’ images was the smiling face of the “Agent Levy” he had me the previous day during his interrogation. The realization that she was evidently a student of Ben-Gidon’s, whether past or present, made him hesitate. He didn’t know what the rabbi’s history was, but the older man had dropped a few hints that implied – or at least AJ inferred – that he’d been an intelligence operative for … someone, so Trent made a snap decision. Although Ben-Gidon clearly didn’t understand, he provided pen and paper when AJ asked for it.
“I need you to get this to Agent Levy,” he said softly to Ben-Gidon as he gave the rabbi the folded slip of paper. The message he’d penned was simple: Sly forcing me to go off-station to Celestia. Under observation. Help.
“Be careful, though,” AJ added, hoping that he had not just painted a target on the rabbi’s back. Ben-Gidon smiled.
“I have some experience with this sort of thing, Mister Triantis,” he said, using the name that AJ had left behind so many years ago.
Strangely, his apartment seemed smaller than normal and AJ wasn’t able to shake the feeling that walls were closing in on him, especially when he climbed into the shower and let his mind begin turning over the multitude of problems crowding in from all sides.
He was only partially clothed when the wall monitor chirped an incoming call but the shirt he wore was loose and long sleeved, so he answered the wave. To his surprise, it was a recorded call from Desi.
“We’re going to be staying on Midway for a few extra days,” the medic said without preamble, but then, the woman had always had problems with diplomacy. From what AJ had heard, she’d been kicked out of medical school for her bluntness. “I’ll look you up once we get back on-station.” The message ended as abruptly as it began and AJ shook his head. Well. At least she’d let him know.
He finished dressing looked around the apartment for a moment. Despite his best efforts, AJ realized he was frowning. He knew it was his imagination but the apartment felt … dirty, contaminated even, and he had a damned good idea why. This place had been a refuge and Sylvester’s visit earlier had thoroughly destroyed that illusion. It was time to move again, maybe this time to somewhere more secure or defensible. He made a mental note to start looking for better accommodations later. Shaking his head, he gathered his things, checked the charge on his las-pistol, and exited.
There was work to do. |
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Post by Rigil Kent on Mar 13, 2017 12:26:44 GMT -6
Chapter 20
Two days later, he stepped onto Celestia.
It was not the first time he’d been on the station, but AJ would not classify himself as a frequent visitor by any stretch of the imagination. Celestia was, to put it kindly, generally too rich for him and even now, dressed in a very fine suit with an exceptionally attractive woman at his side, he couldn’t help but feel like an imposter. He’d spent far too many years living on the fringes of society to really be comfortable with all of this wealth anymore, which was rather ironic considering his rather privileged upbringing. And what did it say about how his life had played out that he considered a space station that wasn’t falling apart at the seams to be ‘wealth’?
“You need to stop thinking so much, mon capitaine,” Bella announced as she linked their arms together. She was dressed in a dark blue ensemble with heels that did rather wonderful things to her legs. Her use of French was something of a surprise and her pronunciation was quite good for someone new to it, but AJ could not help but to wonder as to why she would learn French…
“Easier said than done,” AJ replied tightly. His skin still felt too tight and even though he was “officially” recovered from the reactivation of the computer implant in his head, saying it was so did not actually mean it actually was. The problem was the little things - his balance was very slightly off, as if the grav plating was flickering, and he kept hearing a very mild echo in his left ear that had only just recently begun to fade; the physicians at the clinic had advised him that everything was fine but AJ had only been satisfied after Betty ran through her tests and ended up agreeing with them. Now he just had to re-acclimate to the minor alterations to his neural pathways. He still only had hazy memories of the previous day as he’d recovered from the outpatient procedure - Mish and Bella had been at the clinic to pick him up and had thankfully taken him back to the Omen instead of his apartment where he’d spent ten or twelve hours just lying in the dark to recover. And now, here he was.
There was a sizeable crowd outside the grand banquet hall that was hosting the Interstellar Historical Society Gala … and wasn’t that a stunningly generic name for an organization like this? Most appeared to be local dilettantes but there were more than a handful who were actual spacers; they, like him, still wore mag-boots, despite the occasion and how badly such gear clashed with their clothes. Easily half of those present were bodyguards of some sort and most did not bother trying to conceal this fact, instead embracing the stereotype with their ill-fitting suits, dark armored shades (or cybernetic ocular implants that had long ago replaced their eyes) and fierce scowls. Several of the guards weren’t allowed entrance - the detector at the doorway buzzed loudly which AJ took as a likely indication that they had hyper-boosted or wired reflexes or some other not obvious enhancements that made them a danger even without firearms. He was suddenly quite glad that he’d not tried to smuggle in his las-pistol.
It took nearly thirty minutes for them to get past security and into the gala, during which time Bella seemed like a completely different person. Her posture, her body language and expressions, even the cadence of her speech shifted so she seemed more like one of the idle rich present than the woman he’d first met or even arrived with. She expertly navigated them through the crowd, pausing to have brief conversations with other attendees when necessary, and AJ trailed along in her wake, alternately amused and more uncomfortable than he recalled being in a long time. He was a pilot, after all, and only really felt at home behind the controls of the Omen. From the quick, sidelong glances he received as they made their way toward the security station, AJ suspected most of the elite present took him as Bella’s bodyguard which almost made him smile.
Once through security - a state-of-the-art scanner, which made him doubly glad that he’d left his weapons behind - AJ paused for a heartbeat as he took in the sheer opulence of the room set aside for this gathering. It was massive - easily the size of two or maybe even three gravball courts - with a ceiling so high that AJ thought the Omen might fit in here with no trouble. Glittering glowfloats hovered in discreet spots, illuminating the carefully placed displays that showed the many pieces of art pulled from storage for the gala’s benefit. A live orchestra was present and were playing softly; they were adequate enough, but for all of the wealth on display, AJ thought the organizers could have afforded better.
“Can you smell the money?” Bella asked wryly, her voice soft. She had a very tiny smirk on her face.
“Is that what that smell is?” AJ replied. “Eau de snob.” Bella laughed lightly at a that, a low but delighted sound that made him smile. His moment of good humor slid away a moment later. Merde, but he was in over his head. This was … God, he couldn’t come up with an appropriate analogy. A two thousand parsec jump away from safety but equipped only with a non-Jump capable sub-orbital? That seemed about right. “We need to find our man, find out what he wants, and get out as soon as possible.”
“No.” Bella was still smiling but somehow, her voice was firm. “We need to mingle first. Look at the pretty art, maybe. Pretend we actually belong.” AJ opened his mouth to argue but just as quickly changed his mind. She was right. If they made straight for this Owan Lee without even bothering to look around, Security would probably notice it immediately and that was the last thing they needed.
He let Bella steer them through the various crowds. Once again, he silently marveled at her skill in putting the affluent attendees of this gathering at ease or making them think she was one of them even as he wondered why in the hell she was still bothering with him. To someone with her set of skills, it would take little effort to insert herself into the life of some well-off idiot with more money than brains, so why stick with a spacer like him? She was running, yes, but why hadn’t she jumped ship already?
The art was pleasant enough to look at and now that his implant was operational again, AJ was able to record the entire trip for later view. He toyed with bringing up a proper recording of the music the house band was playing but decided the barely adequate music added to the surreal sense of displacement he was experiencing here. At least one of the attendees present shared his opinion of the music if the man’s sour expression was any indication.
“Can you dance?” Bella asked abruptly. Their wide circuit of the art had brought them dangerously close to a wide, open section where a number of couples were gently swaying together. AJ flinched.
“No,” he replied. He’d just started to turn away when she caught his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor. “I’m wearing mag-boots,” he hissed, hoping that he’d managed to hide his sudden panic. Bella’s nearly predatory smile hinted that he had not.
“Whose fault is that?” she asked. “Mei guanxi. I’m accustomed to doing all of the work anyway.” The last was said with another smile and AJ bit back on the urge to reply as he concentrated on listening to her soft instructions.
While he did not entirely embarrass himself, AJ could not hide the fact that he barely knew what he was doing. The extent of his knowledge with regards to dancing was limited to that which was gleaned from the vids and to his utter lack of surprise, that did not translate well to the real world. For her part, Bella more than made up for his incompetence and managed instead to seem graceful. Thankfully, she did not quite laugh at him when they finally retreated from the small dance floor, though she did have to politely decline a few offers from other attendants to join them. AJ tried not to be offended and was only partially successful.
“In my defense,” he murmured, “my line of work doesn’t often call for dancing skills.” Bella gave him a look that was indisputably amused.
“Then your line of work is missing one of life’s great pleasures,” she remarked simply before nodding toward a cluster of people. “I do believe that is our … mutual friend.”
It was. Owan Lee stood in the center of a small group, almost as if he were holding court. He was AJ’s height and solidly built but something about the way he held himself hinted at the man being quite aware of AJ’s appraisal of him. Lee’s suit was dark and, though he knew very little about fashion, AJ suspected it was significantly more expensive than the one he wore. Every one of the people he was addressing was dressed in equally rich-looking clothes which begged the question: how did one approach a man like this? Mentally, he shrugged; the frontal approach was always the best.
AJ had taken a few steps when Lee caught his eye and intentionally turned his back on him. It was so blatant that it could not have been a mistake and AJ shifted his destination immediately, angling sharply toward a nearby waiter holding aloft a tray of champagne flutes. Bella snagged one in an almost reflexive gesture and blinked slightly in surprise when AJ waved off her offer. He saw something shift in her eyes and realized that this was twice that he’d intentionally avoided alcohol in her presence … three times, now that he thought about it. For a moment, he considered asking the waiter if they had coffee but decided against it at the last moment.
“Captain Trent.” The speaker was a plain-looking woman who AJ doubted he would have noticed if she’d walked past on a crowded street. The waiter, responded to some unstated cue, was already moving away at a calm, unhurried pace that simply had to be practice. “And Miss Venice, I presume.”
“Have we met?” AJ asked. He would have offered to shake but the woman stood with both of her hands clasped at the small of her back.
“My employer wishes me to express his apologies but he is unable to greet you in person.” Automatically, AJ glanced past the woman to Lee - he was in conversation with a woman AJ vaguely recognized; after a moment, he realized it was Agent Levy of HSCIS and if Bella had not been at his side, AJ would have taken a moment to admire the woman. For a half second, he was pleased to see her as it meant his message through Rabbi Ben-Gidon had gotten through; on the heels of that, though, was concern: why was she talking to Lee? “You came highly recommended.”
“Did I indeed?” AJ glanced to Bella who was doing an exceptional job of pretending she was simply sipping champagne and not really paying attention. “And how can I assist, Mademoiselle?” The plain-looking woman’s expression faltered briefly - AJ wondered if she’d been expecting Chinese and the use of French had thrown her; here in the USA, he’d found that to be the case if it didn’t instead cause the other person to narrow their eyes in suspicion.
He almost jumped when his wristcomp vibrated softly but somehow managed to avoid making a complete fool of himself. In his field of vision, a new image appeared in the HUD - he’d received a message. The woman in front of him gave him a very slight nod before retreating without further comment. AJ watched her depart with a frown. How had she known what his comm-node ID was?
“What a pleasant woman.” Bella’s tone could not have been any drier. AJ gave her a tight smile as he considered his options. “Do you have what you need, bao bay?” She smiled again when he gave her a questioning look. “I would like another dance.”
“Aren’t you a sucker for punishment?” AJ muttered as he let her lead him back to the dance floor.
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