Joe sat, alone, at the bar. His head hanging low with a hood pulled to cover his face. Two Bounty Hunters walked through the room talking to one another loudly, obviously drunk. The two were telling the tales of how they had captured bounties. Joe paid no mind to the Hunters, they weren't after him anymore, at least that's what he had paid the credits for the bribe for. Paid more for than was being offered for his bounty infact, so hopefully that would keep them off his trail for a while...enough to get the hell out of the house systems anyway.
Joe had always been a loner from the time he could walk. Never really seeing his parents growing up, he learned to deal with things on his own, he never got involved with anyone other than people he needed to use to survive. After he graduated from high school at 18 years old; Joe vanished. He decided that he needed to see Sirius, and came back when a bounty on his head, and a much more broad understanding of Sirius than he cared to know.
What he had learned was:
- Never talk about an Outcast's mother.
- Never be drunk and talk about an Outcast's mother.
- Never call an Outcast's mother a Corsair.
- Don't talk to an Outcast while drunk.
- Don't talk to an Outcast period.
- Don't drink 4 liters of vodka and attempt to fly a ship.
- Do not try to talk a navy officer out of a ticket while drunk.
- Do not try to escape from a Navy officer.
- If in which case you try, make sure there isn't a huge battleship in your way.
The list went on and on. But over the past few months, Joe had grown up, and learned his lessons on where he belonged: in a bar drinking his life away...or at the bottom of a pit, dead. Either way, he figured this way he wouldn't bother any one anymore.
Commotion across the corridor from the bar caught Joes attention. A young woman was being thrown out of the hotel in the building, her clothes being thrown out after her. She looked down at the clothes and fell down on the ground and began crying. Joe didn't know what to think. Sure, he'd been there before, knew how it felt. But he wasn't about to get involved in someone elses matters, no matter how saddening.
Joe downed the last shot of his drink and slammed the cup down on the counter.
"Later barkeep." he said, his voice sounding much like a ships engine. "Here's a tip for your trouble."
The bartender nodded in thanks and Joe began to walk towards the door. The same door to where the woman was still sitting on the floor crying her eyes out. As Joe got closer, he noticed that she obviously didn't have a lot of money, much like Joe didn't at one time. Her clothes were in tatters, her hair disheveled, and her skin looked like it hadn't seen water in weeks...Joe remembered those days, but his adventures in the rim got him some padding money wise. Sure he didn't have enough money to fix up his ship or anything, but he had enough to live comfortably on Manhattan for the rest of his life if he so desired. The woman had dirty blonde hair and was a very small build. She looked to be around 5 foot 6 inches, maybe a little more from Joes guess, though he couldn't be certain from the angle she was sitting on the floor. He couldn't see her face, or her eyes for that matter, for she had hands over her eyes as tears splattered the floor below her.
He grunted to himself and placed his hands inside his pockets and began to walk towards the pad where his ship was sitting. The woman, hearing his grunt looked up in expectance of something. However, Joe paid no mind to the attention she was paying him, and maybe he should have. The short girl picked up her belongings, and raced after Joe and his ship, hoping to catch a ride...if Joe knew it or not.
"Alright ol' Betsy, lets get off this rock." Joe said to himself starting the preflight checks. "-and no funny business this time either." he said to the ship. He knew it was just a piece of metal with engines attached, but he'd grown used to the fact his ship had some kind of personality to it. After all, the damn thing had survived a re-entry into a planet without the use of a docking ring, so he was pretty certain the ship has some kind of AI or something.
A noise from the back of the ship made Joe turn around with his blaster drawn. His expression changed from a look of anger and irritation to a look of shock as he looked to see what his blaster was pointing directly at, no more than a few inches from the end of the barrel. A small girl was shaking, both eyes staring at the weapon drawn directly at her face. She looked up to Joe and back to the gun several times. Joe only sat there for a moment, stunned. Finally, he gained control of his motor functions back shortly afterwards.
"Damnit woman! This isn't a damn transport ship. If you wanted a ride you should have gotten one from the surface. I'm turning around." Joe said.
"Please." she answered. "I need to get off Manhattan. It's my only hope to see the stars. To explore space just as I've dreamed my entire life living on Manhattan."
Joe laughed and stared at the woman. "You really don't want to know what's out there lady. Trust me. I've been there, seen that. Infact, I'm getting quite irritated just talking to you. So, we're turning around, and you're getting the hell off my ship before I push you out of the airlock, are we clear?"
"Well then, I guess you'll have to push me out the airlock, mister, because I'm not getting off this ship."
Damnit, there goes my bluff.
"Alright, look, where the hell are you going to? I'll drop you there and that's that. I don't want you talking to me at all on the trip over there, understood? Now, where are you going?"
"Where ever you are."
Joe sighed. "You're about three seconds from going out the Airlock." he said pressing the button and opening the door to the rear of the ship.
"Ok! Ok! I'm going to...uh...what's a good place to go to?"
"Hell."
The woman gave Joe a look that said death all over it and she crossed her arms.
"What? You asked a good place to go-"
"Joeseph Evans. You are to stop your ship immediately and prepare for a scan. Any diviation or fleeing from the scene will result in your immediate capture...I remember your last attempt."
Joe closed his eyes and mouthed several four letter words followed by, "Just once, can you throw me a bone?" he said to no one in particular.
Joe weighed the options...there were three people on the patrol. Two were in heavy fighters, the lead in a very heavy fighter. Joe was almost certain he couldn't get away if he didn't play his cards exactly the right way. He had to either hand over the stowaway, or get away by a total stroke of luck. His ship wouldn't be able to take very many hits from the VHF, much less the HF's.
"Yeah, well if you hadn't put your damn ship in the way it would have been a mighty nice escape." Joe jested to the Navy patrol.
The Navy patrol grunted as Joe waited, gripping the front of his ships control panel.
"What do they want?" asked the girl.
"Shut up." Joe said through clenched teeth. "Don't say a damn thing."
"Mr. Evans. We are picking up two lifesigns on your ship. We don't have your passenger tagged for spaceflight. Are you aware of this?...we also don't have them tagged for an ID either. That's odd.
"She's a stowaway, Navy boy."
"It's Lt. Liam to you. You will dock with us and we'll have her taken back to the surface A.S.A.P. That way you won't have to redock at the planet again. I don't like having you around here as it is, Joe."
"You're too sweet Liam." Joe clicked off the comms and looked at the woman with a smug look and his arms crossed. Although his expression changed as he saw that she was shaking and crying.
"Ok, I give up. I'll tell you the truth...They took everything I had, Joe...everything...my money, my family...and now they're after me."
"What the hell are you-"
"The Nomads, Joe! The Nomads!"
"What the hell are you-" Joe tried saying again.
"Joseph, we're getting impatient here, dock with us immediately and we'll take care of the stowaway."
Joe looked back at the woman who was almost breaking down, tears rolling down her beautiful face once more. She looked like she was about to fall over and curl into a ball right there. Even if Joe was a loner, even if he hated being around another human being, he couldn't hand her over. She was terrified. He couldn't believe what he was about to do...
"Give me a damn minute." Joe said inching his hands over to the cruise button. "We're having an issue with my engines." he said slamming the cruise button and zooming away from the fighter patrol.
"Damnit! He's running again! Get him!"
This time, Joe wasn't drunk. And this time, there wasn't a battleship backing up this patrol. Not yet anyway, but three seperate patrols came down on tip of him. The woman was right, something was up...and who ever these "Nomads" were, they wanted her pretty damn bad. He reached the tradelane just before it went down by the patrols hands.
"Sunofa...You." he said pointing at the woman. "Explain now while I try to get us out of this mess. You have five minutes."
Without skipping a beat, she began. "My name is Caroline James. I was a reporter on Manhattan a few years ago. However when I began to dig into the suspicions of the Liberty government being corrupt, I stumbled on to something."
"What is this something?" Joe said dodging a figher patrol going the opposite way on the tradelane.
"Certain sections of the government and military, are believed to be infected by a race called the 'Nomads'. A parasite type race that takes over the minds of humans and controls them to do their bidding. Like the extermination of the human race."
"So they're after you for this knowledge?"
"Yes, we have to get out of New York."
"Well, that's easier said than done. And you need to broaden your horizions dear, we need to get the hell out of Liberty entirely." Joe said and dropped out of the Tradelane, heading for the Badlands.
The duo jumped into the Texas system. The system was silent with the exception of the occasional trader routing comms to Beaumont into the system a ways. While Joe flew the ship in silence, focusing on the task at hand, while Caroline was immersed in the world around her. Never being in space before, everything concerning space made her start to dream of what else could be out there beyond the house systems. Joe said that when he first met her, she didnt want to know what was out there, but she did. She asked a lot of questions while inside the Badlands but her nagging was silenced by a stern glare from Joe, was obviously pissed about the entire situation, Caroline decided to leave him alone.
Joe was an unusual man, determined to live a life alone as a drifter, hated contact with other human beings, and in general was quite rude at times. But there was something about him that perplexed Caro. While he was a loner, he still helped her. Why would someone so bound and determined to live a life of solitude decide to help a woman he hardly knew? There was more to this Joe than met the eye she was sure of it.
Meanwhile, Joe focused in the task at hand. He was certain that one of any situation can happen, he deduced that several outcomes would come to this:
- He would most certainly have a bounty on his head, his reporter passenger as well.
- Every bounty hunter and pirate in Sirius space would be on him within minutes of the bounty being posted.
- He would have to change ships to avoid being caught.
- He would have to kill again to survive.
The last bit of information was what made him cringe. He had to kill to get out of his predicament the last time; he didnt want to have a repeat incident. He was sure it would come down to it though; it was only a matter of time.
Buckle up Caroline. Were going to be doing a series of maneuvers that Im hoping will get us out of Liberty space, after that its into Rheinland. Theres an embargo against the two as you know, we may run into some resistance at the gates into Border World space. Joe said to the woman seated behind him sitting at the window. and if what you said was true, theyre not going to be giving up even after we escaped New York.
Joe expected her to throw some kind of fit, but she didnt. She only smiled grimly, nodded, and climbed into the passenger seat and put on the safety harness after several failed attempts. She looked like death itself was chasing her. Something Joe knew that he had to protect her, for he had been there once himselfhe wasnt about to let a situation like that spawn another him
Rachel looked over her shoulder with no little reluctance. All she saw was the back of the cockpit of her Eagle, but the Rheinland she was leaving... well, she had come to like her new home. The Bundschuh had been good friends in her time of need. Similar feelings, maybe.
It was all the fault of the system. She had been a good girl throughout high school, living to fulfill the ultimately futile expectations of not only her parents, but society. Going away to college (U of M, a very prestigious institution) had shown her the truth. Dabbling in drugs, associating with the 'wrong' crowd, an overall rebellious attitude -- it all got her expelled. And of course, you can't just go home and face your parents after that, can you?
So Rachel took the obvious course of action -- she took her college fund (a generous amount, as she was from a well-to-do family) and left Liberty. Hopped a transport to the Zoner Freeport 2, stuck around there awhile with the peaceful men and women, then bought an Eagle and kept going. The Bundschuh were obvious friends, having a similar background of not being accepted by the powers that control modern society.
Of course, after a couple years, something came up. Her father... she had to go back for the funeral.
"So far so good." Joe said to himself without realizing it. He looked to the co-pilot's seat and found the girl fast asleep. He smiled to himself. It might have been him, but he felt some kind of re-assurance that he was doing the right thing helping her out like this. The other half of him didn't however. He felt that having her tagging along not only got him in trouble in the first place, but slowed him down. She had never been in space before and she didn't know of the dangers that the systems held.
"Maybe we should stop off at the freeport." Joe said to himself again. He decided to himself that they should and left the tradelane and angled for the docking port. "Freeport, this is Civilian 6-14, requesting premission to land."
"Civilian 6-14, you are cleared to land. Please make sure you obey all rules onboard our station. The Zoners hold the right to kick anyone off the station at any time, for any reason."
"Understood." Joe replied back turning off the reciever. "Bloody Zoners."
Doubt. Second thoughts. Jitters.
They all contributed to an anxiety that led almost to a nervous breakdown. Rachel's ship sped through the trade lane to Freeport 2, returning to the life she had so quickly disavowed. Did it have a hold on her? Could she return now, even with her father dead? Especially with her father dead? Would going back be a surrender to the social norms she struggled against?
Air. Need... air... Was the oxygen filtration system on the fritz? Or were her lungs simply refusing to intake air? Whichever it was, as soon as she exited the lane she slammed the 'auto dock' sequence with the Freeport selected. The Zoners recognized her ship and let her down immediately. She cycled the hatch before her Eagle was fully secured, trying to breath. Slowly, it came back to her. Wobbly legs carried Rachel across the flight deck to lean against the wall. Maybe she needed some alcohol to steady the nerves. Or... she reached into her pocket and quickly put something in her mouth.
The bar will do fine, I guess.
Her gait steadied with every step as she went to get a couple drinks. As she went for the door, however, she bumped into a man and woman trying to walk through the door at the same time. Physically coming into contact with the man, they both recoiled a step.
Which saved his life.
A shot rang out and flew through the space he had been occupying a moment before. Stunned, Rachel turned slightly to look at the assailant. That wasn't the sort of thing that happened on a Freeport! Steadying himself for another shot, the man holding the gun was punched through by a blaster bolt from a gun Rachel whipped out. Instinct, plus a little training the Bundschuh had given her. Always helps to know how to handle yourself. By no means was she a soldier, but she could hold her own in most scuffles.
It took her a moment to realize she wasn't going to get that drink. Then she remembered the Freeport laws, and cursed loudly.
Joe blinked at the woman who had knocked into him and saved his life. What was it, something called...luck? Joe never had luck, he blinked in surprise at the occasion, but had no time to celebrate the fact that he had another few moments of his life left. The hunter in him sprung to life, immediately checking the side-lines of the bar and looking for an exit. He ran after the woman whom had bumped into him by accident. He couldn't go back to his ship, for sure they had already either hidden inside for an ambush, or waited outside to shoot him and the woman.
"Damnit!" Joe cursed. "Why do I always have to get involved in crap like this?!"
"I'm sorry." said the woman weakly. Joe sighed.
"It's not your fault, stuff like this always happens to me. I'm not the luckiest man in the sector..." Joe looked around the bay quickly and noticed an Eagle's hatch closing. Joe ran over and climbed up the latter in-front of the nose of the cockpit and slammed his hand on the glass. "You saved my life if you meant to or not. I don't care who you work for, or what you do. We're being chased...help us out or we're done for..."
A distraction? A distraction??
She smiled to herself, but lost it quickly. Best to keep her cards close to her chest. Cycling the hatch, she motioned for them to board quickly. Looking out to make sure no more trouble was coming, she sent the request to launch.
"Where you two headed?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound as nonchalant as possible. Please not Liberty, please not Liberty, please not Liberty...
"Anywhere but Liberty," he replied curtly. Rachel let out a sigh of relief that she couldn't have masked if she had tried.
"I'm Rachel," she said over her shoulder, setting a course back to Rheinland. She made a pointed note of not adding her last name.