Civil Unrest
"Glad you decided to wear the RemLok," Kate said as she stepped into the Asp's workshop. "Like you said, " replied Manny, preoccupied with something on the workbench, "'a half-finished station experiencing civil unrest,' not going to take any chances." Kate frowned and stepped closer, recognizing the tools and paraphernalia spread around the shop; "You're not taking that, are you?" Manny half-turned, fitting the trigger assembly into place on the dismantled EM slug-thrower held in his right hand. "Not taking any chances," he repeated and turned back to the workbench. "You promised it wouldn't leave the ship. It's just for boarders," she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms, her posture losing its casualness. "Babe, the station is on the verge of anarch-" he started; "Guns start trouble," she retorted, "you could get killed just for having it."
"I could get killed for not having it. Chicken and the egg, babe," he replied. Kate screwed up her mouth and thought about that metaphor, deciding he'd misused it. "Besides," he continued while she processed his nonsense, "I've been in communication with FleetComm, they know me. If they see it and have any sense they'll understand. I won't wear it openly. If the unions decide to riot, I don't want to be caught out without some protection." Kate leaned against the bulkhead and crossed her legs. "Don't blame the workers, they've been putting in long hours for almost no pay."
"Oh, I sympathize, shuttled all the way out here, austere living conditions, grueling hours..." Manny said as he installed the upper assembly and barrel onto the weapon, "It doesn't change the fact that things are getting pretty choppy out there, a few of the other ships have re-outfitted for combat instead of mining."
"We're not bounty hunters."
"No, never trying that again," Manny said, absentmindedly rubbing the jagged scar above his breast. "Between the unions, the make-shift, over-taxed station security, pilots going vigilante, and good old opportunists, I'm not going out there without it." He declared, finally making eye-contact with her. "Don't go out there at all!" She exclaimed. "Kate! The Ataraxia needs major repairs! That faulty seismic charge left her hull integrity down to about 25% and wrecked most of the systems"
"That wasn't my fault!"
"I know! Those explosives travelled a long way and a long time before we bought them. If it wasn't for your repairs we wouldn't have even made it back to the station."
He tested the action on the trigger, set the safety. and slipped the pistol into a waist-holster inside the cargo pants he wore over his pressure suit. Looking down at her feet, Kate added, "I informed the seller, they're recalling that Lot of explosives for re-inspection..." Manny pulled a magazine off the charging station and thumbed the read-out, 10 rounds and enough of a charge to accelerate each of them well over the speed of sound. He deliberated for a second, then stashed it in a pocket on his left pant-leg. He'd load it off the ship, out of her sight. "We got her home, but she's far from space-worthy. If the station descends into chaos or goes into lockdown, and we have to evacuate...I want a solid ship," he continued, "The repair shop is swamped with explorers, miners, and now bounty hunters, I made a deal with a guy to get us to the front of the line, but he's nervous, and wants payment in person. I promised him a case of the Brandy, you know how much he can sell those bottles for here!"
"I don't like it," Kate answered. "Neither do I," replied Manny, grabbing and checking another magazine from the charging station, "but I don't see another way, do you?" He pocketed the magazine, and headed for the hall, Kate following him back to their quarters. "I'll be careful, I promise," he said, grabbing a flight jacket from the locker, "but we need to do this, and moving around the station is getting riskier by the hour." Manny stepped in front of the mirror, threw the jacket on and flipped the bottom out a couple times to make sure it fell naturally along the waist, concealing the weapon. He did a couple test draws and Kate snorted. "You look so Dangerous! Elite, even" she cooed. He moved to her, placed a hand on her waist and kissed her cheek. "I'll head straight there, and straight back. keep the airlocks sealed." She sighed and pulled him in. "Be smart, I love you."
"I will. I love you." He moved to the airlock, and out into the docks.
The docks were in typical disarray, but not overly so. The unions and the powers-that-be understood that a station lived or died by the docks. They would be the last part of the station to break down. The workers would continue to move cargo, fuel, and ammo, and would continue to get paid through nearly any change of the station's fortune. Manny stepped through to the receiving area, checked the station map for the Repair Shop, stopping between two pallets of cargo to load a magazine into the grip of the pistol. A weapon based on rail gun technology, but without the power of a ship's power-plant behind it, the aluminum slugs were energetic enough to pierce flesh, but soft enough not to pierce hulls, canopies or bulkheads. Ten rounds in the gun, and ten more in his pocket, he thought, "if I need more than that, things are beyond recovery." Exiting the docks, he began to see the signs of the unrest. Garbage had begun to pile up in corners and around receptacles. Sanitation clearly one of the unions on strike. Electric panels in the corridor were missing covers, wiring hastily patched after being ripped out. Sparks popped occasionally from poorly repaired lighting. Slogans of worker solidarity, rights, and demands were spray-painted across information displays. The people of the station moved from place to place in a hustle, eyes either down, straight ahead, or heads turning this way and that like a flock of birds. As far as Manny could tell, no actual violence had broken out in the immediate area yet, but he could feel the pressure building. "I better get this over with quickly," he thought to himself," if I'm out here when it kicks off, this gun won't be enough." He moved through the corridors and common spaces toward the office of the repair shop. Down one intersecting corridor he heard voices raised in anger, the unmistakable wet smack of someone punching someone in the face. He quickened his pace as more voices joined in and blended into a cacophony of struggle. "As soon as we're repaired, we're getting out of here;" he told himself, "Let the bounty hunters get this place sorted out. I'll settle for some nice boring mining." He put his hand on his weapon for reassurance and made the last turn toward the office.
The Repair Shop's office wasn't any better. There were a dozen pilots on the near side of the desk, jockeying for position, trying to wave down an employee. The employees behind the desk were disheveled and frantically pecking at terminals, shouting figures and wait times at the crowd. A supervisor stood behind the clerks, arms and voice raised in an effort to quiet the pilots. Manny hung back and craned his neck over the melee, seeking out his contact. Someone clutched his left arm, and Manny's right hand went for the pistol. "Easy," stressed his contact, "I'm on break, ditched the uniform." Manny looked him up and down, deciding he was who he said he was. The contact pulled out his hand terminal, and pulled up the repair request for the Ataraxia. He whistled low, "this is more extensive than I had expected. Putting you in front of the line is going to cause a lot of delays for other clients...and short notice on these parts..."He let the statement hang in the air, the implication clear. Manny considered dickering for a bit, but the unpredictability of the situation convinced him to take what he could get. If the station went on lockdown before he got the Asp repaired, they'd be stuck. "Double the price on the books, then, and another case of the Lavian Brandy, off the books." The employee cocked an eyebrow, and pushed out his bottom lip in a disingenuous look of contemplation. Manny's hand strayed to his hip again. "Deal" his contact said, and stuck out his hand. Manny took his hand and shook it, then pulled his hand terminal out as well and updated the credit transfer. He fired off a quick message to Kate to move two cases of the Brandy into a storage locker in the docks. "Get her fixed, quick! The sooner we get back out there, the better. For everyone." "My pleasure, Commander Stardancer," he said with emphasis on the "dancer." Manny sneered at him, and threaded his way out of the office, back to the corridors.
"Bloodsucker," he said to himself, "taking advantage of people's desperation." Manny set off towards the Ataraxia's berth at a jog. The mood in the office, and the atmosphere in the station was reaching a fever pitch, and he wanted to be back in the relative safety of the ASP, waiting on the repair crews. He rounded a corner and his haste deposited him directly into the path of a minor mob that was being shoved back by some kind of self-appointed security team. He put his hands out to keep from running into a protester, and was immediately elbowed in the eye in response. He staggered back, and someone pushed him over an overturned garbage can. The deputies, seeing Manny's flight jacket and recognizing him as a member of the Pilot's Federation, stepped in and grabbed the protester by the collar, threatening him with batons. "No, it's fine," Manny said as he crawled out of the refuse, but his voice was lost in the din. Before he could get back to the fray, someone spit in the guard's face, and his partner responded with a hay-maker. The mob erupted, pushing and throwing wild punches over their compatriots. Someone threw a bottle, and the guards went to work with their batons. Manny caught a baton to the gut and went down again, the wind knocked out of him, trying to scoot away from the shuffling and kicking feet. With the mob's focus on the guards, and the guards focus on the mob, Manny managed to disentangle himself and move to the edge of the fray. He gathered himself up, searched for his exit, hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his pistol. He made it out of the intersection, and continued toward the docks, stopping to wipe the blood dripping from his nose, and check himself over. He would have plenty of bruises, and a black eye from the feel of it. He considered himself lucky.
The rest of the trek to the ship was uneventful, and he let himself in through the crew door. "Jeezus, Manny!" Kate exclaimed when she saw him, and rushed forward. "It looks worse than it is," he grumbled through a blocked nose.
"I hope you gave as good as you got"
"Not even close."
"The gun?"
Manny patted his hip, "stayed in it's holster...not that kind of fight."
"That's a relief. The brandy is in the locker, do we have an appointment?"
"We do. We'll see if we can trust him."
"How's the station look?"
"Getting bad, we'll see if they can get it under control."
Kate sealed up the crew door, and put the Asp into standby power. Manny went to the weapons locker and cleared the pistol, putting the magazines back on their chargers.
"All we can do now is wait."
"I could get killed for not having it. Chicken and the egg, babe," he replied. Kate screwed up her mouth and thought about that metaphor, deciding he'd misused it. "Besides," he continued while she processed his nonsense, "I've been in communication with FleetComm, they know me. If they see it and have any sense they'll understand. I won't wear it openly. If the unions decide to riot, I don't want to be caught out without some protection." Kate leaned against the bulkhead and crossed her legs. "Don't blame the workers, they've been putting in long hours for almost no pay."
"Oh, I sympathize, shuttled all the way out here, austere living conditions, grueling hours..." Manny said as he installed the upper assembly and barrel onto the weapon, "It doesn't change the fact that things are getting pretty choppy out there, a few of the other ships have re-outfitted for combat instead of mining."
"We're not bounty hunters."
"No, never trying that again," Manny said, absentmindedly rubbing the jagged scar above his breast. "Between the unions, the make-shift, over-taxed station security, pilots going vigilante, and good old opportunists, I'm not going out there without it." He declared, finally making eye-contact with her. "Don't go out there at all!" She exclaimed. "Kate! The Ataraxia needs major repairs! That faulty seismic charge left her hull integrity down to about 25% and wrecked most of the systems"
"That wasn't my fault!"
"I know! Those explosives travelled a long way and a long time before we bought them. If it wasn't for your repairs we wouldn't have even made it back to the station."
He tested the action on the trigger, set the safety. and slipped the pistol into a waist-holster inside the cargo pants he wore over his pressure suit. Looking down at her feet, Kate added, "I informed the seller, they're recalling that Lot of explosives for re-inspection..." Manny pulled a magazine off the charging station and thumbed the read-out, 10 rounds and enough of a charge to accelerate each of them well over the speed of sound. He deliberated for a second, then stashed it in a pocket on his left pant-leg. He'd load it off the ship, out of her sight. "We got her home, but she's far from space-worthy. If the station descends into chaos or goes into lockdown, and we have to evacuate...I want a solid ship," he continued, "The repair shop is swamped with explorers, miners, and now bounty hunters, I made a deal with a guy to get us to the front of the line, but he's nervous, and wants payment in person. I promised him a case of the Brandy, you know how much he can sell those bottles for here!"
"I don't like it," Kate answered. "Neither do I," replied Manny, grabbing and checking another magazine from the charging station, "but I don't see another way, do you?" He pocketed the magazine, and headed for the hall, Kate following him back to their quarters. "I'll be careful, I promise," he said, grabbing a flight jacket from the locker, "but we need to do this, and moving around the station is getting riskier by the hour." Manny stepped in front of the mirror, threw the jacket on and flipped the bottom out a couple times to make sure it fell naturally along the waist, concealing the weapon. He did a couple test draws and Kate snorted. "You look so Dangerous! Elite, even" she cooed. He moved to her, placed a hand on her waist and kissed her cheek. "I'll head straight there, and straight back. keep the airlocks sealed." She sighed and pulled him in. "Be smart, I love you."
"I will. I love you." He moved to the airlock, and out into the docks.
The docks were in typical disarray, but not overly so. The unions and the powers-that-be understood that a station lived or died by the docks. They would be the last part of the station to break down. The workers would continue to move cargo, fuel, and ammo, and would continue to get paid through nearly any change of the station's fortune. Manny stepped through to the receiving area, checked the station map for the Repair Shop, stopping between two pallets of cargo to load a magazine into the grip of the pistol. A weapon based on rail gun technology, but without the power of a ship's power-plant behind it, the aluminum slugs were energetic enough to pierce flesh, but soft enough not to pierce hulls, canopies or bulkheads. Ten rounds in the gun, and ten more in his pocket, he thought, "if I need more than that, things are beyond recovery." Exiting the docks, he began to see the signs of the unrest. Garbage had begun to pile up in corners and around receptacles. Sanitation clearly one of the unions on strike. Electric panels in the corridor were missing covers, wiring hastily patched after being ripped out. Sparks popped occasionally from poorly repaired lighting. Slogans of worker solidarity, rights, and demands were spray-painted across information displays. The people of the station moved from place to place in a hustle, eyes either down, straight ahead, or heads turning this way and that like a flock of birds. As far as Manny could tell, no actual violence had broken out in the immediate area yet, but he could feel the pressure building. "I better get this over with quickly," he thought to himself," if I'm out here when it kicks off, this gun won't be enough." He moved through the corridors and common spaces toward the office of the repair shop. Down one intersecting corridor he heard voices raised in anger, the unmistakable wet smack of someone punching someone in the face. He quickened his pace as more voices joined in and blended into a cacophony of struggle. "As soon as we're repaired, we're getting out of here;" he told himself, "Let the bounty hunters get this place sorted out. I'll settle for some nice boring mining." He put his hand on his weapon for reassurance and made the last turn toward the office.
The Repair Shop's office wasn't any better. There were a dozen pilots on the near side of the desk, jockeying for position, trying to wave down an employee. The employees behind the desk were disheveled and frantically pecking at terminals, shouting figures and wait times at the crowd. A supervisor stood behind the clerks, arms and voice raised in an effort to quiet the pilots. Manny hung back and craned his neck over the melee, seeking out his contact. Someone clutched his left arm, and Manny's right hand went for the pistol. "Easy," stressed his contact, "I'm on break, ditched the uniform." Manny looked him up and down, deciding he was who he said he was. The contact pulled out his hand terminal, and pulled up the repair request for the Ataraxia. He whistled low, "this is more extensive than I had expected. Putting you in front of the line is going to cause a lot of delays for other clients...and short notice on these parts..."He let the statement hang in the air, the implication clear. Manny considered dickering for a bit, but the unpredictability of the situation convinced him to take what he could get. If the station went on lockdown before he got the Asp repaired, they'd be stuck. "Double the price on the books, then, and another case of the Lavian Brandy, off the books." The employee cocked an eyebrow, and pushed out his bottom lip in a disingenuous look of contemplation. Manny's hand strayed to his hip again. "Deal" his contact said, and stuck out his hand. Manny took his hand and shook it, then pulled his hand terminal out as well and updated the credit transfer. He fired off a quick message to Kate to move two cases of the Brandy into a storage locker in the docks. "Get her fixed, quick! The sooner we get back out there, the better. For everyone." "My pleasure, Commander Stardancer," he said with emphasis on the "dancer." Manny sneered at him, and threaded his way out of the office, back to the corridors.
"Bloodsucker," he said to himself, "taking advantage of people's desperation." Manny set off towards the Ataraxia's berth at a jog. The mood in the office, and the atmosphere in the station was reaching a fever pitch, and he wanted to be back in the relative safety of the ASP, waiting on the repair crews. He rounded a corner and his haste deposited him directly into the path of a minor mob that was being shoved back by some kind of self-appointed security team. He put his hands out to keep from running into a protester, and was immediately elbowed in the eye in response. He staggered back, and someone pushed him over an overturned garbage can. The deputies, seeing Manny's flight jacket and recognizing him as a member of the Pilot's Federation, stepped in and grabbed the protester by the collar, threatening him with batons. "No, it's fine," Manny said as he crawled out of the refuse, but his voice was lost in the din. Before he could get back to the fray, someone spit in the guard's face, and his partner responded with a hay-maker. The mob erupted, pushing and throwing wild punches over their compatriots. Someone threw a bottle, and the guards went to work with their batons. Manny caught a baton to the gut and went down again, the wind knocked out of him, trying to scoot away from the shuffling and kicking feet. With the mob's focus on the guards, and the guards focus on the mob, Manny managed to disentangle himself and move to the edge of the fray. He gathered himself up, searched for his exit, hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his pistol. He made it out of the intersection, and continued toward the docks, stopping to wipe the blood dripping from his nose, and check himself over. He would have plenty of bruises, and a black eye from the feel of it. He considered himself lucky.
The rest of the trek to the ship was uneventful, and he let himself in through the crew door. "Jeezus, Manny!" Kate exclaimed when she saw him, and rushed forward. "It looks worse than it is," he grumbled through a blocked nose.
"I hope you gave as good as you got"
"Not even close."
"The gun?"
Manny patted his hip, "stayed in it's holster...not that kind of fight."
"That's a relief. The brandy is in the locker, do we have an appointment?"
"We do. We'll see if we can trust him."
"How's the station look?"
"Getting bad, we'll see if they can get it under control."
Kate sealed up the crew door, and put the Asp into standby power. Manny went to the weapons locker and cleared the pistol, putting the magazines back on their chargers.
"All we can do now is wait."
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