04-07-2020, 06:05 PM
Part 1: Introductions
The Old Chariot
Barnwell Spaceport, Planet Cambridge
The Old Chariot was about as typical as a spaceport bar could be. The low lighting and smoke-filled air were a stark contrast to the bright spring afternoon outside, and the music was not quite loud enough to drown out conversations, but just loud enough to keep conversations private. If you needed someone to get you off-planet quickly and with few questions, it was the place to go.
Vanko Beowulf was well-acclimated to the spaceport bar. For an experienced trader like him, the bar wasn't really a place to relax, but a place to meet potential clients, trade rumors, and settle disputes. If anyone needed the Fortunate Sun's services, this was where they'd be. Vanko was a large man in his 30s, with short, light brown hair and an unexpectedly lighthearted demeanour. Following him was Jack Barrett, a dark-skinned, middle-aged Bretonian wearing a worn BAF jacket over his coveralls.
"The usual?" asked Barrett.
"Sure," said Vanko.
Barrett broke formation and walked up to the bar while Vanko searched for a booth, exchanging brief pleasantries with a few familiar faces along the way. Barrett wasn't far behind, with a pint glass full of cheap lager in each hand and a young blonde woman in tow.
"Who's this?" asked Vanko, indicating the woman. Barrett put the glasses on the table and motioned the woman to talk.
"Oh, erm... My name is Angela Alford, I need to get..." She paused for a moment, thinking about what she should say, and finished: "away from here."
"How far away?" asked Vanko, as Barrett and Angela sat down. "We're moving food and medical supplies up to Freeport 1 at first, but from there I don't know."
Angela mouthed something about Zoners, then replied "Freeport 1 should be OK."
"Taking anything with you?" asked Barrett.
"Yes, there's a crate of research specimens. It needs a pressurised hold and, ideally, mains power."
The two spacers glanced at each other. "Shouldn't be a problem," said Vanko. "Now: How much?"
Angela was confused for a moment, before it hit her. "Oh, how much, right..." She picked a leather purse out of her inside pocket and fished around for a stack of credits, and then said; "Twenty thousand now, and fifty when we get there... Is that okay?"
Barrett's curiosity piqued. "That's a lot..." he began to mumble.
Vanko smiled and held out his hand. "We'll do it," he said.
Angela awkwardly shook it, sealing the deal. "So, uh, when do we leave?"she asked.
"Our ship's at the mooring fixture being loaded right now. Our shuttle's in bay 12, and we'll be dusting off around 6 o'clock."
"Bay 12, 6 o'clock... Thanks, I'll be there on the dot." Angela got up out of her seat and headed out of the bar.
"There's something fishy about her," said Barrett. "70 grand is a lot of credits to drop on a ship to the next system."
"So? She's either naive or desperate. Maybe both. Ain't no shortage of folk like that, and ain't never gonna be one."
"Did you see the ID card in her purse?"
"Don't think so, why?"
"She's from the Cambridge Medical Institute. Even the juniors there are among the highest-paid doctors in the colonies. Someone like that only leaves for a very good reason."
"Barrett."Vanko glared at him.
"Yeah?"
"Didn't I say 'no questions'?"
"This is just between us!"
"I learned a long time ago that even asking them in your head ain't safe." He noticed someone coming towards him, and diverted his attention. "And what can the Fortunate Sun do for you?"
That evening, when the sun was just starting to set, Vanko and Barrett were loading some small things they'd acquired into the shuttle when their passengers arrived. Angela had a stuffed pack on her back, a large suitcase in one hand, and a grav-sled following at her side. On the sled was a large metal crate with various gauges and indicator lights on the side.
Vanko looked up from loading a cool box and said, sarcastically, "You sure you brought everything?"
Angela patted down her jacket and jerked her pack around a couple of times before replying. "Yes, it's all there."
"Right," sighed Vanko, "Just leave your stuff here and climb in, get in one of the seats behind the cockpit.
Angela did as such, strapping herself into a seat by the window. She was just getting comfortable when another passenger came up and occupied the opposite window seat. He was a small, mousey man in an ill-fitting business suit.
"Oh, hello there," he said. "You stopping at the Freeport, or going further out?"
"I don't know yet," said Angela. "Wherever the wind takes me, I guess."
"Oh, one of those. I'm with Bowex," he said, handing Angela a business card that read 'Richard Webber - Border World Exports - Base Supply Division'. "I'm negotiating an agreement to supply a new mining base on the planet." He sighed, and became somewhat dejected. "I had to arrange my own transport this time. Budget cuts, you see. Obviously not something you worry about a lot, is it?"
Angela flinched, wondering if 'Webber' knew more about her than he was letting on. Her thoughts were interrupted by Vanko and Barrett climbing into the cockpit and the engines spinning up.
Vanko's voice came over the shuttle's PA. "This is your captain speaking. Everything's ready to go, just waiting for clearence from the tower."
Webber fumbled around with his belt, muttering something about Freelancers, before getting it properly secured.
Vanko chimed in again. "We have clearence, launching in three... two... one... Go!"
The two passengers were thrown back into their seats as the shuttle's engines engaged. Outside, the orange sunset sky slowly shifted to black, and not long after a few nearby stars became visible. The acceleration relaxed as they reached orbit and began to approach the mooring fixture.
The shuttle yawed to starboard for a course correction, giving Angela a view of the destination. Fortunate Sun was an ugly duckling of a ship, featuring not-quite-modern technology bolted onto whatever old hull the shipyard had to hand, with a set of cargo pods trailing behind her and what looked like smoke emitting from a vent on the top.
The shuttle floated for a few moments before attaching itself to the ship with a 'ka-CHONK' followed by several smaller 'CHONK' sounds.
"Alright," said Vanko, "We have docked with the Fortunate Sun. Just wait a moment for us to unload some stuff, and we'll show you to your rooms."
"Did he say 'rooms'?" scoffed Webber. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."
There was some moving of objects behind them, and Barrett called "You can come out now."
Webber and Angela got out of their seats and stepped onto the deck of the ship. The halls were grey and not particularly well-lit, but the coloured stripes painted on the floor looked helpful for navigation. The passengers grabbed their gear and followed Barrett down the blue line to a row of doors.
"Alright, this is where you'll be staying." Barrett indicated a pair of rooms next to each other. "The common room is a bit further down, but there's a fridge in each room. If everything goes well, we'll be at Freeport 1 by tomorrow at noon."
"Okay, thanks," said Angela.
"Right. I need to go get us moving," said Barrett, turning around and heading back the way they had came.
Angela was just about to get ready for bed when she heard a knock at the door. She went over to answer it and she saw Webber, pointing a compact pistol right at her.
"Don't say a word," he hissed. "That 'crate' you brought aboard. Where is it?"
"I- I don't know," said Angela, "I saw someone taking it down to the cargo hold after we docked, but I haven't seen it since."
"Then we're going to have to find it." Webber stepped aside, keeping the gun trained on her.
Angela stepped out, keeping her hands up.
"I've been asked to take you alive, but that's only going to happen if you do exactly as I say." He waved the gun, indicating that she should start moving.
They walked down the corridor, following the green lines to a cargo lift. Without saying a word, Webber pushed the button to summon it. The doors opened a couple of seconds later, and inside was an imposing red-haired woman.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. She spoke with a distinct Dublin accent.
"Did you see a large crate being taken down to the hold?" asked Webber, pointing the gun at her.
She held her hands up. "Aye, I took it down to C deck."
Webber grabbed the collar of Angela's jacket, pushing her into the lift. "Take us down there."
The red-haired woman pressed the button for C deck, and surreptitiously pressed a hidden button on the side of the panel. The lift took them down, and after a tense couple of minutes, the doors opened up onto C deck. Angela and the other woman left first, with Webber not far behind. It was only a short walk to the hold, where they found Angela's crate between pallets of food rations.
"Right," said Webber, "Time to call it in." He got out a small communicator from his pockets. Seeing him momentarily distracted, the red-haired woman grabbed his shoulder and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.
"Grab that comm!" she shouted. Anglina picked it up and handed it to her. "Now," she said, standing over Webber, "What's going on here?"
"You're making a mistake," said Webber, seemingly ufazed. "That crate is property of the Bretonian government!"
"That's my sister, you creep!" shouted Angela.
Just then, Vanko and Barrett arrived, followed by a Kusarian woman wearing an upturned welding mask. "We heard the alarm, what happened?" asked Vanko.
"Why don't you ask Dr. Alford?" said Webber, as Barrett dragged him to his feet.
Angela swallowed and spoke up. "A few months ago, my sister Alexandra was recruited by some government agency. They didn't give us any names or addresses, just a promise that it would help end the war early. I didn't hear from her again until I got a coded message, saying she was in trouble and needed to get out of there."
"So you got her out in a stasis pod, and having nowhere else to go, you found your way to us." concluded Vanko. He turned his attention to Webber, and whispered to him; "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you out the airlock right now."
At first, Webber said nothing. He knew full well that the crew had no reason to let him live, but they didn't know that. "I'm the only one who can keep you out of prison. If they find my body floating down a trade lane, they'll know that something's up. If you let me go, then I can tell my superiors that you co-operated with my investigation, and helped me apprehend Dr. Alford at Freeport 1. It'll be the last you see of either of us."
Vanko and Barrett turned around.
"Don't listen to him," urged Angela. "The kids at that facility were being tortured. Cut open, probed, exposed to- I can't imagine what. If she goes back-" Her voice faltered, and she began sobbing.
"If there's any truth to what she's saying, we can't let this guy take her," said the Kusarian. "I don't want that on my conscience."
"I know, Kat, but is it worth the trouble?" asked Vanko. "Having secret police after us ain't great for business."
"Webber's lying," said Barrett. "I've ran into people like him before. We already know too much, and none of us had anywhere else to go when we signed on here. I say we space him."
"Can't we just keep him in the brig?" suggested Kat.
"Not an option," said Vanko, "He could have trackers and comms hidden anywhere on him."
Their decision made, Barrett turned around and grabbed Webber, taking him away. That was the last they saw of him.
"Is... that it?" asked Angela, somewhat worriedly. "You're just going to space him?"
"We may not always be the good guys," said Vanko, "But we ain't the bad guys, and we're a long damn way from the worst guys out there."
"That's hardly reassuring."
"Maybe not," agreed Vanko, "But it's the best we got."
When Barrett came back, it was time to open up the stasis pod. Angela tapped at the control panel, inputting the access codes and setting the procedure in motion. There was a hiss of water vapour as the airtight seal disengaged, and a whirring sound as the motorised lid opened. Lying inside was a pale young woman, about 17 years old, wearing pale green medical scrubs. Various needles and life sign monitors were attached all over her body, and she had long, messy, blonde hair.
Angela held her sister's hand as she blinked awake. "Wha... Where... Angie?" she moaned, still disoriented.
"It's okay, Alex," said Angela. "You're safe now."
The Old Chariot
Barnwell Spaceport, Planet Cambridge
The Old Chariot was about as typical as a spaceport bar could be. The low lighting and smoke-filled air were a stark contrast to the bright spring afternoon outside, and the music was not quite loud enough to drown out conversations, but just loud enough to keep conversations private. If you needed someone to get you off-planet quickly and with few questions, it was the place to go.
Vanko Beowulf was well-acclimated to the spaceport bar. For an experienced trader like him, the bar wasn't really a place to relax, but a place to meet potential clients, trade rumors, and settle disputes. If anyone needed the Fortunate Sun's services, this was where they'd be. Vanko was a large man in his 30s, with short, light brown hair and an unexpectedly lighthearted demeanour. Following him was Jack Barrett, a dark-skinned, middle-aged Bretonian wearing a worn BAF jacket over his coveralls.
"The usual?" asked Barrett.
"Sure," said Vanko.
Barrett broke formation and walked up to the bar while Vanko searched for a booth, exchanging brief pleasantries with a few familiar faces along the way. Barrett wasn't far behind, with a pint glass full of cheap lager in each hand and a young blonde woman in tow.
"Who's this?" asked Vanko, indicating the woman. Barrett put the glasses on the table and motioned the woman to talk.
"Oh, erm... My name is Angela Alford, I need to get..." She paused for a moment, thinking about what she should say, and finished: "away from here."
"How far away?" asked Vanko, as Barrett and Angela sat down. "We're moving food and medical supplies up to Freeport 1 at first, but from there I don't know."
Angela mouthed something about Zoners, then replied "Freeport 1 should be OK."
"Taking anything with you?" asked Barrett.
"Yes, there's a crate of research specimens. It needs a pressurised hold and, ideally, mains power."
The two spacers glanced at each other. "Shouldn't be a problem," said Vanko. "Now: How much?"
Angela was confused for a moment, before it hit her. "Oh, how much, right..." She picked a leather purse out of her inside pocket and fished around for a stack of credits, and then said; "Twenty thousand now, and fifty when we get there... Is that okay?"
Barrett's curiosity piqued. "That's a lot..." he began to mumble.
Vanko smiled and held out his hand. "We'll do it," he said.
Angela awkwardly shook it, sealing the deal. "So, uh, when do we leave?"she asked.
"Our ship's at the mooring fixture being loaded right now. Our shuttle's in bay 12, and we'll be dusting off around 6 o'clock."
"Bay 12, 6 o'clock... Thanks, I'll be there on the dot." Angela got up out of her seat and headed out of the bar.
"There's something fishy about her," said Barrett. "70 grand is a lot of credits to drop on a ship to the next system."
"So? She's either naive or desperate. Maybe both. Ain't no shortage of folk like that, and ain't never gonna be one."
"Did you see the ID card in her purse?"
"Don't think so, why?"
"She's from the Cambridge Medical Institute. Even the juniors there are among the highest-paid doctors in the colonies. Someone like that only leaves for a very good reason."
"Barrett."Vanko glared at him.
"Yeah?"
"Didn't I say 'no questions'?"
"This is just between us!"
"I learned a long time ago that even asking them in your head ain't safe." He noticed someone coming towards him, and diverted his attention. "And what can the Fortunate Sun do for you?"
That evening, when the sun was just starting to set, Vanko and Barrett were loading some small things they'd acquired into the shuttle when their passengers arrived. Angela had a stuffed pack on her back, a large suitcase in one hand, and a grav-sled following at her side. On the sled was a large metal crate with various gauges and indicator lights on the side.
Vanko looked up from loading a cool box and said, sarcastically, "You sure you brought everything?"
Angela patted down her jacket and jerked her pack around a couple of times before replying. "Yes, it's all there."
"Right," sighed Vanko, "Just leave your stuff here and climb in, get in one of the seats behind the cockpit.
Angela did as such, strapping herself into a seat by the window. She was just getting comfortable when another passenger came up and occupied the opposite window seat. He was a small, mousey man in an ill-fitting business suit.
"Oh, hello there," he said. "You stopping at the Freeport, or going further out?"
"I don't know yet," said Angela. "Wherever the wind takes me, I guess."
"Oh, one of those. I'm with Bowex," he said, handing Angela a business card that read 'Richard Webber - Border World Exports - Base Supply Division'. "I'm negotiating an agreement to supply a new mining base on the planet." He sighed, and became somewhat dejected. "I had to arrange my own transport this time. Budget cuts, you see. Obviously not something you worry about a lot, is it?"
Angela flinched, wondering if 'Webber' knew more about her than he was letting on. Her thoughts were interrupted by Vanko and Barrett climbing into the cockpit and the engines spinning up.
Vanko's voice came over the shuttle's PA. "This is your captain speaking. Everything's ready to go, just waiting for clearence from the tower."
Webber fumbled around with his belt, muttering something about Freelancers, before getting it properly secured.
Vanko chimed in again. "We have clearence, launching in three... two... one... Go!"
The two passengers were thrown back into their seats as the shuttle's engines engaged. Outside, the orange sunset sky slowly shifted to black, and not long after a few nearby stars became visible. The acceleration relaxed as they reached orbit and began to approach the mooring fixture.
The shuttle yawed to starboard for a course correction, giving Angela a view of the destination. Fortunate Sun was an ugly duckling of a ship, featuring not-quite-modern technology bolted onto whatever old hull the shipyard had to hand, with a set of cargo pods trailing behind her and what looked like smoke emitting from a vent on the top.
The shuttle floated for a few moments before attaching itself to the ship with a 'ka-CHONK' followed by several smaller 'CHONK' sounds.
"Alright," said Vanko, "We have docked with the Fortunate Sun. Just wait a moment for us to unload some stuff, and we'll show you to your rooms."
"Did he say 'rooms'?" scoffed Webber. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."
There was some moving of objects behind them, and Barrett called "You can come out now."
Webber and Angela got out of their seats and stepped onto the deck of the ship. The halls were grey and not particularly well-lit, but the coloured stripes painted on the floor looked helpful for navigation. The passengers grabbed their gear and followed Barrett down the blue line to a row of doors.
"Alright, this is where you'll be staying." Barrett indicated a pair of rooms next to each other. "The common room is a bit further down, but there's a fridge in each room. If everything goes well, we'll be at Freeport 1 by tomorrow at noon."
"Okay, thanks," said Angela.
"Right. I need to go get us moving," said Barrett, turning around and heading back the way they had came.
Angela was just about to get ready for bed when she heard a knock at the door. She went over to answer it and she saw Webber, pointing a compact pistol right at her.
"Don't say a word," he hissed. "That 'crate' you brought aboard. Where is it?"
"I- I don't know," said Angela, "I saw someone taking it down to the cargo hold after we docked, but I haven't seen it since."
"Then we're going to have to find it." Webber stepped aside, keeping the gun trained on her.
Angela stepped out, keeping her hands up.
"I've been asked to take you alive, but that's only going to happen if you do exactly as I say." He waved the gun, indicating that she should start moving.
They walked down the corridor, following the green lines to a cargo lift. Without saying a word, Webber pushed the button to summon it. The doors opened a couple of seconds later, and inside was an imposing red-haired woman.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. She spoke with a distinct Dublin accent.
"Did you see a large crate being taken down to the hold?" asked Webber, pointing the gun at her.
She held her hands up. "Aye, I took it down to C deck."
Webber grabbed the collar of Angela's jacket, pushing her into the lift. "Take us down there."
The red-haired woman pressed the button for C deck, and surreptitiously pressed a hidden button on the side of the panel. The lift took them down, and after a tense couple of minutes, the doors opened up onto C deck. Angela and the other woman left first, with Webber not far behind. It was only a short walk to the hold, where they found Angela's crate between pallets of food rations.
"Right," said Webber, "Time to call it in." He got out a small communicator from his pockets. Seeing him momentarily distracted, the red-haired woman grabbed his shoulder and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.
"Grab that comm!" she shouted. Anglina picked it up and handed it to her. "Now," she said, standing over Webber, "What's going on here?"
"You're making a mistake," said Webber, seemingly ufazed. "That crate is property of the Bretonian government!"
"That's my sister, you creep!" shouted Angela.
Just then, Vanko and Barrett arrived, followed by a Kusarian woman wearing an upturned welding mask. "We heard the alarm, what happened?" asked Vanko.
"Why don't you ask Dr. Alford?" said Webber, as Barrett dragged him to his feet.
Angela swallowed and spoke up. "A few months ago, my sister Alexandra was recruited by some government agency. They didn't give us any names or addresses, just a promise that it would help end the war early. I didn't hear from her again until I got a coded message, saying she was in trouble and needed to get out of there."
"So you got her out in a stasis pod, and having nowhere else to go, you found your way to us." concluded Vanko. He turned his attention to Webber, and whispered to him; "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you out the airlock right now."
At first, Webber said nothing. He knew full well that the crew had no reason to let him live, but they didn't know that. "I'm the only one who can keep you out of prison. If they find my body floating down a trade lane, they'll know that something's up. If you let me go, then I can tell my superiors that you co-operated with my investigation, and helped me apprehend Dr. Alford at Freeport 1. It'll be the last you see of either of us."
Vanko and Barrett turned around.
"Don't listen to him," urged Angela. "The kids at that facility were being tortured. Cut open, probed, exposed to- I can't imagine what. If she goes back-" Her voice faltered, and she began sobbing.
"If there's any truth to what she's saying, we can't let this guy take her," said the Kusarian. "I don't want that on my conscience."
"I know, Kat, but is it worth the trouble?" asked Vanko. "Having secret police after us ain't great for business."
"Webber's lying," said Barrett. "I've ran into people like him before. We already know too much, and none of us had anywhere else to go when we signed on here. I say we space him."
"Can't we just keep him in the brig?" suggested Kat.
"Not an option," said Vanko, "He could have trackers and comms hidden anywhere on him."
Their decision made, Barrett turned around and grabbed Webber, taking him away. That was the last they saw of him.
"Is... that it?" asked Angela, somewhat worriedly. "You're just going to space him?"
"We may not always be the good guys," said Vanko, "But we ain't the bad guys, and we're a long damn way from the worst guys out there."
"That's hardly reassuring."
"Maybe not," agreed Vanko, "But it's the best we got."
When Barrett came back, it was time to open up the stasis pod. Angela tapped at the control panel, inputting the access codes and setting the procedure in motion. There was a hiss of water vapour as the airtight seal disengaged, and a whirring sound as the motorised lid opened. Lying inside was a pale young woman, about 17 years old, wearing pale green medical scrubs. Various needles and life sign monitors were attached all over her body, and she had long, messy, blonde hair.
Angela held her sister's hand as she blinked awake. "Wha... Where... Angie?" she moaned, still disoriented.
"It's okay, Alex," said Angela. "You're safe now."