Tales of Hiroshi Sora

[Guest]

On board the Clear Sky, in orbit of California Minor

Hiroshi Sora sat on the bridge of the Clear Sky, his feet on the dashboard, talking to Minors flight control operator.

What do you mean were not cleared to dock?

With respect captain, were quite busy at the moment. The air space is filled to the brim with transports.

So?

So, health and safety rules stipulate that we cant let any more than the current amount into our air space.

Alright, Hiroshi out. Sora cut the transmission.

So, captain. Whats the plan?

The voice was that of his navigator, Kareem Ren?

After weve dropped of this shipment of alien organisms well head to Manhattan, Ill check if there are any contracts going.

Might be a good idea to get an engineer on the crew, the bucket wont survive much longer and itll be cheaper than paying for it to be repaired every time we call into a station. Or worse, buying a new engine. Kareem chimed in.

Not a bad idea.

Beep. The communication system indicated a transmission was waiting to be answered. Sora shook his head and hit the button to activate the transmission.

Captain Hiroshi talking.

This is flight control. Youre clear to land. Have a good day.

And you control. Kareem take us to the main port, Ill go get the cargo ready.

Aye, aye captain.

Manhattan

The stale bar air hit Soras nostrils making him wince. The bar was called The White Lotus, the irony of the name and the state of the bar didnt escape Sora.

The bar had originally been a reputable place, but slowly the illegal racers came and made the place there own, the bars owner had got the LPI involved once, the next day he found his car had been stolen. Conveniently the illegal racers know exactly where it was and promised in return for the use of the bar, theyd quite happily retrieve the car. The owner had no choice.

Sora walk to the bar counter. The bar tender was a middle aged thug, tattoos plastered his body. An eye patch covered his left eye.

What could I get for you, sir? The barmans eloquent voice was in stark comparison to his appearance.

Im looking for a man. He goes by the name of Robert MacGregor.

The barmans head tilted his head to the left. Hes other there by the lavatory, sir.

Right. Thanks

Of course. Anytime.

Sora turned and started walking towards MacGregor. MacGregor sat on his own, a pint of beer sitting on the table in front of him. His short, stout body and red hair made him look like a Scottish folk hero of ancient times.

Ye here for a reason or do you just like looking at men? MacGregor spoke in an accent that Sora couldnt quite place.

MacGregor?

All depends whos asking.

My names Sora Hiroshi, Im a transport captain. Im looking for an engineer and heard you were the best.

Boy, if youre gonna be lying t me, then at least do it honestly. You didnt hear I was the best. You heard I was the cheapest.

Ah Sora was caught off guard by the engineers straight forward talking.

That be a yeah then. Well dont ye know that its rude to let a man sit and drink by himself. Sit down.

MacGregor kicked a chair out from the table and gestured towards it. Sora froze for a quick second before nodding and sitting down.

Are you interested in it? Youll get a cut for each job. You dont get a fixed number but-

No need to try and sway me boy. Ill join ye crew. Just dont expect me to like any of those bastard Bretonians, if you got any in yer crew and dont expect me to call ye captain. MacGregor spoke the word Bretonians with unusual bile.

I. Well, no we dont have any Bretonians on the crew. As for calling me captain, I can live with it. Youre the third member. Were docked at the West Valley Port, pad four. Sora stood up and walked towards the exit.

Alright boy. Oh and my friends call me Rob Roy.