guest@jacques:~$ login jacques
Password for user: jacques: ...
Password correct.
jacques@jacques:~$ cd ./log/
jacques@jacques:~/log/$ edit 001.txtd
It's funny. It's funny but also sad, how one word to one incorrect person can turn your whole life around.
Gallia is done for me. Playing a secret agent for the Council is fine, until someone starts noticing your foreign accent. Even then, it's fine until that someone starts asking questions. Even then, it's fine. Unless you don't screw up. I did. And everything fell apart. Like a house of cards.
My days here are over. I need to get rid of the ship. I need to get rid of my identity. I need to get rid of everything. Back to the beginning.
Lucullus will be good for the journey. This will be my fortress. My home. My house of cards.
Last stop at Toulouse. Tie up loose ends. Damn, not even tie. Cut them up. After that, the old times is over.
Maybe Liberty would be a good stop. After all that's where I'm from. I don't think anyone would remember me though. I left it way before the Nomad war.
That's good. Nobody will know.
jacques@jacques:~$ shutdown -h now
Shutting down...
guest@jacques:~$ login jacques
Password for user: jacques: ...
Password correct.
jacques@jacques:~$ cd ./log/
jacques@jacques:~/log/$ edit 002.txtd
The optimism of some people never ceases to amaze me. Some of them could even stay optimistic even if the entire universe was on fire and thinking they lit it up. But they will still think everyone would love them. Pathetic.
One day you will find someone who will want to kill you for your optimism. Because they think you're against them. Because you're helping someone who they don't like. There is no room for friendship in the long run. One simple rule: hunt or be hunted.
On a more positive note. I made my way into Liberty. Surprising how little has changed. And people still believe they're such a peaceful colony that loves everyone. Conveniently skipping the fact that they wage three wars, each on a different front.
Maybe Gallia wasn't so bad after all. I still don't want to go back.
I was thinking about writing a book about it. It might happen one day. People still think it's a devil's nest. They could use a bit of enlightenment.
jacques@jacques:~$ shutdown -h now
Shutting down...
guest@jacques:~$ login jacques
Password for user: jacques: ...
Password correct.
jacques@jacques:~$ cd ./log/
jacques@jacques:~/log/$ edit 003.txtd
The most important thing when travelling to a new place is making relations. Friendly, hostile, depends on what you need. It's a thing I learned when being with the Council. A wise man told me.
My first doubt about that was 'why hostile?'. Now I figured why. Angering one group might put you into better relationship with another. A lot of places can be reached just with fake kindness and a few favours.
Favours are the things that drive the world. It's not money. I sincerely despise people who put money over power. If you don't pay attention to your money for a long time, it will start to disappear. Power can only disappear if you do something wrong. It's immune to time.
Why would you ask money from someone if you can get them to do something for you? The latter is infinitely more valuable. If you ask for money, they will pay you and you will be even. Favours are like a stock market without slumps. They either always keep their value, in the contrary to money, or the value increases.
And if someone doesn't keep their word? Well then Bounty Hunters exist for a reason.
jacques@jacques:~$ shutdown -h now
Shutting down...
guest@jacques:~$ login jacques
Password for user: jacques: ...
Password correct.
jacques@jacques:~$ cd ./log/
jacques@jacques:~/log/$ edit 004.txtd
Secrets are a very versatile tool, making one project different personalities of oneself to different people. It never is good to reveal your cards. Sometimes you have to.
The person on the other side can sometimes be very different from what other people think about them. They may appear weak temporarily, but may hold real power in their hands. Or it may be exactly the opposite.
After all, we're nothing more and nothing less but what we choose to reveal.
jacques@jacques:~$ shutdown -h now
Shutting down...
House of Cards was a big ship, there was no doubt about that. Lucullus liners were meant to transport vast numbers of people and this vessel was no different. Despite the fact that most of the passenger's bays were modified to transport cargo and goods, there still were places where nobody looked ever since the ship was constructed. The crew consisted of merely a few people, rescued slaves who had no other way of life than to serve at the ship. The pilot, the cook and the navigator were all of the people the liner housed. They were like ghosts, unnoticeable.
In the House of Cards' command room a lone man sat behind his desk. The command room was much bigger than one person would ever need, the size of it would be comparable to a smaller flat in any cheaper districts in one of Manhattan's metropolises. Yet, the room was almost empty, the exception being a big desk in the center and a small coat of arms representing a fleur-de-lis image laid on top of a rose flower.
The man sitting behind the desk was the commander of House of Cards. He was biting a stylus and before him lay a blank piece of paper. The man picked up a small purple gem that was laying on his desk and started looking at it, still pensively thinking about something. After a while he started scribbling a message.
Quote:Dear Mr. McScrap,
During our last meeting at the Haven you mentioned your overload of work. I figured that a man like you could sometimes use a bit of time off.
Soon I will be heading to Champagne with a shipment of munitions for the Council. I would really appreciate your company during the journey as the chambers of House of Cards seem incredibly empty right now.
For the next few days I will be staying at Planet Curacao in Cortez. Feel free to search for me there if you wish to accompany me.
The man read the message a few times, then retyped it into the terminal. Afterwards, he grabbed his tablet and carefully calligraphed his signature.
He read through the message once again and sent it.
It did not realy take long for the answer to arrive, and so three days later the rugged old Recycler FynnMcScrap lovingly called his Shuttle threaded its way through the traffic near the docking rings at Curacao.
After landing at a hired hangar and signing out his own ship to stay here for the duration of his short holiday the slim joung Junker threw his slingsack over a sholder and walked towards the landed Lucullus Liner, admiring the elegant form and noticing the telltale signs of a well cept but also well travelled ship. He smiled as he rounded the grand hull, watching the bright light of Cortez´ Sun playing over the pockmarks of occasional weapon fire on the armour plating, the slight wear at the ships bow telling him stories of long flights through some dense clouds and expertly admiring the few faint lines where repair crews must have changed a plate of the outer engine shielding.
"What a beauty ! "
He grinned, wiping a single bead of sweat back from his forehead and then shielding his eyes as he looked over to the landing platform. He was determined to enjoy this trip, and even if he had some paperwork stored on his personal Datapad he would not be sorry if no emergency call reached him while he was away from the Haven. Who would have thought that the few short visites and the occasional chat would end up with him taking such a luxourious trip ?
Rather than getting joustled by the oh-so-important Vacationers embarking through the terminals over at the main starport or getting scrutinized and searched by overzealous officials he was going to spend a few days with this mysterious and well educated host. Letourneau somhow had a knack of talking about far reaching and connected events all over Sirius with an ease Fynn envied, but without letting him feel uneducated or outlandish.
Still grinning as he adjusted his load, he walked briskly towards the stairway to the landing plattform.
Jacques saw through the command room's window the Recycler landing. The ship looked very out of place on Curacao, the land of expensive ships, clothes and pleasures. Yet, he knew what that ship was doing on Curacao. He invited it, after all.
Through the window he saw a man leaving the Junker vessel. It was about time he left the room to greet him. He buttoned his shirt, quickly put on a blazer, tied up the bowtie, corrected watch on his right hand and left the command room. He passed through half-circle corridor leading to the more luxurious apartments and another one for the common passenger's cabins, towards the cargo bay. He looked around.
A few tons of crates filled to the brim with unregistered firearms made their way from one shady corner of Detroit Munitions to Curacao and now onto the House of Cards. Jacques walked towards the control panel and pressed a button. The gangplank slid quickly and quietly towards the landing deck.
'Good afternoon, Mr McScrap!' said Jacques walking down the gangplank. At the bottom, there was a man standing. He shook Jacques' hand. 'So now you see it, in all of its beauty, the House of Cards. Let me invite you aboard.' He walked the gangplank again, this time followed by the man.
Jacques again approached the control panel, bringing up the gangplank and turning the lights on. 'Hope you don't mind the load of Black Market Munitions travelling with us,' he said, 'but after all, the contraband is defined when you're getting caught.'
He saw the man smile and continued. 'Shall I show you your chambers?' The man nodded and they went up the stairs towards the habitable part of the liner. They were walking through the first corridor when a young Kusarian girl passed them. Jacques paid no attention and continued towards the half-circle corridor. Instead of going straight, towards the command room, they went right, to one of the more expensive apartments of House of Cards.
'This is going to be your apartment for the journey, my friend, Make yourself at home. If you want to refresh, there's a bathroom to the right. When you're ready, join me for a glass of wine. I have exactly the same cabin on the other side of the corridor.' said Jacques and left the man in the door. He walked down the corridor to his own apartment, but half the way he turned around. 'Oh, I've almost forgotten. We're launching tomorrow morning, if that's not a problem for you.'
Setteling in did not take long, and so Fynn war soon roaming the spacious interior of the House of Cards.
He had choosen a new, clean Overall and his old leather flight jacket, just because he could not realy imagine to wear anything else. But he had been extra careful to clean every inch of leather, every buckle and strap, and even his shoes where fresh. And after using the modified steam tank home at the Haven they had rebuilt as a sauna he felt clean.
Funny how he still looked around to check if he did not leave any grime on the floor of this flying palace of a ship.
But freshly shaved, with his close cropped black hair he imagined he would not seem ... to ... ah. Once a Junker, allways a Junker. He was silently laughing at himself as he entered the owners rooms.
What a view !
You had more windowed planes here than the entire hull of his Salvager had surface !
Jacques expected his crew to know everything he wanted. Rarely he communicated with them directly, especially with guests on board, he rather gave them permission to listen to every word he said and figure out what his next order of interest would be. While for an inattentive eye this would be some kind of miraculous mind-reading, House of Cards' crew could think for themselves and figure things out in a blink of an eye.
When Mule was told to carry a few dozen crates of munitions onto the ship, he knew they would be going somewhere distant. When Akiko was told to prepare supplies for a long journey she knew that someone important would be coming along. And when Chiza and Javez were told to study the star maps of Kusari and Gallic borderworlds, they knew where the ship next stop would be.
Jacques' apartment's main room was a lot more pleasant than the command room. One of the walls was replaced entirely with glass so that everything outside would be completely visible, whether this be a nice view or a threat. In the middle stood a glass table, on three sides surrounded with couches, in configuration that could be changed easily any time for a meal, for a drink or for a rest. Against the wall was a stand with an impressive collection of books, spanning through a variety of subjects, starting from science and biology, through the history of Sirius and Earth to simple belles-lettres.
When Fynn entered Jacques' apartment, he was standing at the window, leaning against one of the couches and appreciating the modern architecture of one of many Curacao hotels. When he heard the sound of opening door, he turned around and spread his hands. 'Hello again, my friend. Now, here we'll have a while to enjoy a bit of nice conversation over a glass of wine. I believe I had...' he pretended to look around for the bottle and finally reached for it behind the window courtain.
'Ah, there it is. Red. Gallic. Delicious.' He looked around again, this time searching for a corkscrew. When he couldn't find one he reached to his blazer pocket and pulled out a Swiss-army knife. 'Alright, there we go. Shall we have a seat?' He said, pointing at the table. He already prepared two wine glasses and poured wine to both of them, then sat on one of the couches, while Fynn rested in front of him.
'Where are my manners. You probably are very hungry after that trip to Cortez. What would you say for some Kusarian sushi? It will be prepared in no time and I'm sure it will hit your taste.' He stared at Fynn for a moment, seeing him smile and nod lightly.
What Fynn didn't know was that as soon as he left his apartment, Akiko quietly tailed him and after he entered Jacques' room she stood at the door listening to the conversation inside. As soon as Jacques mentioned sushi, she minced to the kitchen and started preparing the food.
Meanwhile, in Jacques' apartment the conversation continued. Letourneau looked at Fynn again. 'You know, we've known each other for a while. We could already get on the first-name terms. Call me Jacques.' He raised his glass and clinked with Fynn's, then took the first sip of wine. As he was putting down the glass, the door opened, showing Akiko and a full tray of sushi in her hands.
( // ooc : sry, I wrote this page while still logged into the tinkers account. Author : FynnMcScrap )
Soon they where sitting at the table and chatting amiably, and even if Fynn had at first not realy responded to the food the quality of the fine sushi managed to distract him from the panorama finaly. The ease with wich he settled in was surprising himself and he was careful with the wine so as not to get too heavy a head.
Discussing the trade lanes and jump hole paths led to discussiong other topics, and Fynn visibly recoiled while talking.
"... and so while we still often use some of the old trade routes passing the jump holes, Tinkers trade fleet is mainly using the trade lanes at the moment. After all, we have had to pay enough in time, blood and money to get our current legal status accepted by Liberty so we try to get the most out of it. As we do not trade any contraband the time we fly to sell is quite important."
Fynn tipped his glass towards Jaques in a easy salute.
"And as I can see on the hull plates of your beauty here she is used to pass some jump holes and clouds too.
Many of our crews are experienced smugglers, abd we do not condemn any still using the tricks of the trade.
We only want to proove that we can work without the increased danger and scrutiny that is connected to jump hole trade, while improving work and life conditions in Texas for the Junker communities.Including our friends and allies."
Fynn had cleared his plate and leaned back to study the colour of the red wine in his glass against the bright light from Cortez´ sun shining through the room.
"Some commodities take increased worth through the simple mechanisms of demand and availability. Some are further modified by the danger or toll it takes to produce, mine or trade them. Some prices are even more modified by embargo regulations, laws or bans. In the end, it only counts if you can deliver your haul, take soomething else and fly back. The greatest treasure is worth nothing if there is nobody alive to claim it, and the greatest wealth is life itself. It took me quite a while to realise what my elder brother Flinx thought as he wanted me to memorize these words by heart. But after loosing men at Cold Bay and after flying alone for quite a while I learned."
He laughed without noticing how clearly the strain of responsibility showed in his face, edging the lines deeper.
But he quickly relaxed again, smiling.
"I flew the Leeds run for a while, concentrating on evacuating others. I wanted to help, to get free of the ghosts following me. But finaly I realised that the ghosts in Texas do not haunt me. They whisper to me, telling me their lives, wanting me to remember them. And so I will help better life for my people, and better my own life while doing so."
He looked at his host, wondering if he had bored him.
"Thank you for being such a good listener, Jaques. I appreciate it."