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Vaal'Ok Dasmar
The lights were too bright and too loud. The constant buzzing sound over the booth counter echoed between his ears and the shiny plasteel window, separating his lousy six-weeks stay and the outdoors.
The outdoors being the corridors leading out of the Itani Barracks in... oh yes... Pheronas... the Itani backyard as some call it.
The clerk behind the counter made it clear that until he was done, he'd be their "guest". So, he stood there, straight as a garden pike, nodding every now and then or agreeing when it felt appropriate.
"One pack of gum. Two pieces missing.
- Yes.
- One flight watch.
- Thank you.
- One flight PDA. Memory card removed by High Command.
- Of course.
- One GWAPC flight fatigue and assorted boots and gloves. Badges removed by High Command.
- Hrm.
- One..."
The clerk stopped there, looking at the intriguing object and tried to match it from his list.
"One... hrm... antique ceramic pistol bullet? You're a collectionner I see.
- No sir. It was given to me by someone.
- Who asked you? Shut up and answer the question. Is it, or is it not in the same condition as when you left it here?!
- Yes sir. It is.
- One provisory ID card. Outdated.
- Uh-hu.
- One empty wallet.
- Empty? There were credit sticks in there!
- ONE, empty, wallet.
- Hrm."
The clerk pushed a button on screen wich changed accordingly to display a blue square on the side. The display showed, under the hand scanner, a prompt that read "affix hand". It was otherwise blank.
The de-possessed man put his hand on the display and almost immediately his name appeared. Followed by the charges he had been imprisoned for, the list of interrogations he went through and, finally, a note to the effect the charges had been dropped.
"Damn them! It had been sent ten days ago!" he thought.
The clerk then read his customary thank-you-good-bye speech.
"Vaal'Ok Dasmar, citizen of Aeves, of the Setalli Shinas sector, you are now released on your own recognizance. Because the charges have been dropped, you are now free to roam the galaxy any way you see fit. Given your identification papers were... allegedly lost, you are required to get them re-issued at the capitol. You will be escorted on your way there. You have 10 hours to have them registered."
Vaal'Ok Dasmar picked up his gear and got dressed. Why did he have to go through this naked, he didn't know quite for sure. Perhaps that facilities examiner was enjoying his job too much.
A door opened. As Vaal'Ok passed through it, the clerk yelled at him:
"Out!… and stay clear of trouble makers!"
The outdoors being the corridors leading out of the Itani Barracks in... oh yes... Pheronas... the Itani backyard as some call it.
The clerk behind the counter made it clear that until he was done, he'd be their "guest". So, he stood there, straight as a garden pike, nodding every now and then or agreeing when it felt appropriate.
"One pack of gum. Two pieces missing.
- Yes.
- One flight watch.
- Thank you.
- One flight PDA. Memory card removed by High Command.
- Of course.
- One GWAPC flight fatigue and assorted boots and gloves. Badges removed by High Command.
- Hrm.
- One..."
The clerk stopped there, looking at the intriguing object and tried to match it from his list.
"One... hrm... antique ceramic pistol bullet? You're a collectionner I see.
- No sir. It was given to me by someone.
- Who asked you? Shut up and answer the question. Is it, or is it not in the same condition as when you left it here?!
- Yes sir. It is.
- One provisory ID card. Outdated.
- Uh-hu.
- One empty wallet.
- Empty? There were credit sticks in there!
- ONE, empty, wallet.
- Hrm."
The clerk pushed a button on screen wich changed accordingly to display a blue square on the side. The display showed, under the hand scanner, a prompt that read "affix hand". It was otherwise blank.
The de-possessed man put his hand on the display and almost immediately his name appeared. Followed by the charges he had been imprisoned for, the list of interrogations he went through and, finally, a note to the effect the charges had been dropped.
"Damn them! It had been sent ten days ago!" he thought.
The clerk then read his customary thank-you-good-bye speech.
"Vaal'Ok Dasmar, citizen of Aeves, of the Setalli Shinas sector, you are now released on your own recognizance. Because the charges have been dropped, you are now free to roam the galaxy any way you see fit. Given your identification papers were... allegedly lost, you are required to get them re-issued at the capitol. You will be escorted on your way there. You have 10 hours to have them registered."
Vaal'Ok Dasmar picked up his gear and got dressed. Why did he have to go through this naked, he didn't know quite for sure. Perhaps that facilities examiner was enjoying his job too much.
A door opened. As Vaal'Ok passed through it, the clerk yelled at him:
"Out!… and stay clear of trouble makers!"
Shape headed back to his quarters in Odia M14. The conversation with MysticRogue played out through his mind.
Infiltrating VPR bases... it had been done numerous times before. But it was an age of new recruits, shifting identities. The remaining pirate organizations were composed largely of veterans. No one who would blend in. In order to make it work, we needed more young pirates...
It was a problem to be sure...
Infiltrating VPR bases... it had been done numerous times before. But it was an age of new recruits, shifting identities. The remaining pirate organizations were composed largely of veterans. No one who would blend in. In order to make it work, we needed more young pirates...
It was a problem to be sure...
"Ab-so-lu-te-ly impossible."
"We dont deal with people of your kind."
"No... uh... the classified adds are... hum... outdated. Yes, outdated. The position has been filled."
"You dont fit our personnel profile. Sorry."
"Well, I'd hire you but, my female employee quota is too low for the regulations already so I'll have to pass you."
"We could try you but you have to supply your own freighter and double the cargo value in deposit.
- But I dont have that kind of cash!
- Sorry then."
By now, Vaal'Ok Dasmar had heard them all. Maybe it was too soon. May the void take them all! he thought. His name had been cleared of the charges. But not his face, apparently.
The media had been quick at publishing file photos of him when the Galaxy Weapon Anti Proliferation Committee had to admit to the theft of high-grade weapons. Had they had compared his photo with surveillance camera, they would have seen the perpetrator was not the real Vaal'Ok Dasmar. The dammage was done. His faced had been placarded all over Itani and UIT space. He even had seen one still on a bar counter, wich he promptly tore off. Wich as-promptly resulted in him being kicked out of said bar.
Vaal'Ok Darmar sat in a smal interior garden of an Asek station when he was reviewing his current assets. One collector bullet, flight gear and just about fifty height thousand credits. Dasmar had done bad deals in the past. Some good. But selling his GWAPC ID card, two months back, clearly hadn't been one of his best move. It was a damn good chance he had hidden a credits stick in the ceramic pistol bullet. Otherwise, he'd be lying in a cardboard box in some lame station down in the grey zoo.
"Fifty height k left. That wont last long. Just about half a year's worth of salary." he thought.
Dasmar got up and walked up to a news stand when he had the headlines downloaded to his PDA.
"Sorry sir. Your PDA doesn't have a memory card. I can sell one to you.
- Oh. Right. What's the cheapest one you got?
- I have some Tunguska PetaCard-8pb at 1000$ credits."
Another thousand credits gone.
On the news, nothing decent. No new jobs posting.
Perhaps it was time to look for a merc job.
"We dont deal with people of your kind."
"No... uh... the classified adds are... hum... outdated. Yes, outdated. The position has been filled."
"You dont fit our personnel profile. Sorry."
"Well, I'd hire you but, my female employee quota is too low for the regulations already so I'll have to pass you."
"We could try you but you have to supply your own freighter and double the cargo value in deposit.
- But I dont have that kind of cash!
- Sorry then."
By now, Vaal'Ok Dasmar had heard them all. Maybe it was too soon. May the void take them all! he thought. His name had been cleared of the charges. But not his face, apparently.
The media had been quick at publishing file photos of him when the Galaxy Weapon Anti Proliferation Committee had to admit to the theft of high-grade weapons. Had they had compared his photo with surveillance camera, they would have seen the perpetrator was not the real Vaal'Ok Dasmar. The dammage was done. His faced had been placarded all over Itani and UIT space. He even had seen one still on a bar counter, wich he promptly tore off. Wich as-promptly resulted in him being kicked out of said bar.
Vaal'Ok Darmar sat in a smal interior garden of an Asek station when he was reviewing his current assets. One collector bullet, flight gear and just about fifty height thousand credits. Dasmar had done bad deals in the past. Some good. But selling his GWAPC ID card, two months back, clearly hadn't been one of his best move. It was a damn good chance he had hidden a credits stick in the ceramic pistol bullet. Otherwise, he'd be lying in a cardboard box in some lame station down in the grey zoo.
"Fifty height k left. That wont last long. Just about half a year's worth of salary." he thought.
Dasmar got up and walked up to a news stand when he had the headlines downloaded to his PDA.
"Sorry sir. Your PDA doesn't have a memory card. I can sell one to you.
- Oh. Right. What's the cheapest one you got?
- I have some Tunguska PetaCard-8pb at 1000$ credits."
Another thousand credits gone.
On the news, nothing decent. No new jobs posting.
Perhaps it was time to look for a merc job.
"who are you? who gave you that transponder code?
- Er... never mind... I must have hit the wrong transponder code. Sorry about that."
*click*
upper case hated to be disturbed. he hated even more when disturbed from an unsuccessful call. "uc"s, as he called them.
but this specific transponder code? who else but him had that code?
upper case hated it even more. perhaps it would be wise to have that communicator examined and check if there weren't location tracers on it.
- Er... never mind... I must have hit the wrong transponder code. Sorry about that."
*click*
upper case hated to be disturbed. he hated even more when disturbed from an unsuccessful call. "uc"s, as he called them.
but this specific transponder code? who else but him had that code?
upper case hated it even more. perhaps it would be wise to have that communicator examined and check if there weren't location tracers on it.
Vaal'Ok had done a lot of thinking in the past few hours. His former job at an ammunition depot had given him occasion to meet a lot of people of all trades who, for a few credits, would get a glimpse of this or that new commodity. Or perhaps even buy a few rounds for the trip home.
Not an illegal goods merchant like those folks down Corvus. More like a little sideline for discrete buys of merchandize that would, otherwise, just sit there and rot. Small scale operations only, so not to attract attention.
He didn't like intrigues any more than politics and could spot the bullshitters on station entry. He would normally turn them off, faking to be calling the strike forces or something. He didn't want to deal with the little people. Too risky.
But there was that weird character that came in once. Completely bullshit-les. He went straight to the point. Massive credits. One crate, for wich he had the ID number. It was a huge box and Vaal'Ok had to help load it in his customer's ship. A disguised transponder encoder was given to him, should he find more crates of that specific markings.
Vaal'Ok Dasmar had spent the last few days roaming the galaxy trying to give himself some funds by selling all his excess inventory. Quickly, his ridicule fourty thousand credits turned to a couple of hundred thousands. Enough to buy decent ships and start trading on his own. Then mining some when getting good times on scarce supplies here and there. Soon, his balance sheet showed very positive numbers.
Out of curiosity during a mining run, he had used the transponder encoder to try to reach is last contact. Perhaps he had interesting jobs. But instead of the expected contact, he ended up talking to someone he didn't know and promptly closed the communication.
"My contact is gone it seems" he thought, then hid the encoder in a safe place for a later second try.
Has he cut the connection, Vaal'Ok felt that feeling of uneasiness as he approached the Corvus station. His first visit ever to a station in grey space.
There was another ship on the deck, beaten up like some space hobo or something. It was an older model--the kind of busses you dont see anymore.
The the space hobo-like ship actually belong to a space hobo-like beat-up Itani. And it wasn't a figure of speech. There were two UIT corporate bouncers literally bouncing their fists at the hobo and their conversation was constantly interrupted by the thumps of their knuckles on the spaced-out hobo.
"You piece of thump didn't hold up to your end of the thump bargain!
- Yeah you thump -less piece of thump. You made our client utterly thump"
It is at that point that Vaal'Ok Dasmar decided to intervene, using different but more expedite means.
"Leave him alone zap you corporate zap-bags!"
And they did leave him alone, interrupting his sobbing with only the sound of their lifeless carcasses thumping on the ground.
Vaal'Ok couldn't quite believe what he had done. Somehow, all his anger at his experiences past catalyzed and resulted in cold-blooded murder of citizens hardly worthy of better treatment. Still in shock, Vaal'Ok emptied the pockets of the carcasses, kept any interesting items and gave the few credit sticks to the sobbing hobo.
"Here. Get yourself a decent ride, decent clothes and bring something decent to eat to your loved ones. Don't come back around here if you can avoid it. Shoo!"
And so did the hobo.
Vaal'Ok Dasmar was left on the dock with corvus wrongdoers barely looking at him. it was time for him to leave. And so did he.
Not an illegal goods merchant like those folks down Corvus. More like a little sideline for discrete buys of merchandize that would, otherwise, just sit there and rot. Small scale operations only, so not to attract attention.
He didn't like intrigues any more than politics and could spot the bullshitters on station entry. He would normally turn them off, faking to be calling the strike forces or something. He didn't want to deal with the little people. Too risky.
But there was that weird character that came in once. Completely bullshit-les. He went straight to the point. Massive credits. One crate, for wich he had the ID number. It was a huge box and Vaal'Ok had to help load it in his customer's ship. A disguised transponder encoder was given to him, should he find more crates of that specific markings.
Vaal'Ok Dasmar had spent the last few days roaming the galaxy trying to give himself some funds by selling all his excess inventory. Quickly, his ridicule fourty thousand credits turned to a couple of hundred thousands. Enough to buy decent ships and start trading on his own. Then mining some when getting good times on scarce supplies here and there. Soon, his balance sheet showed very positive numbers.
Out of curiosity during a mining run, he had used the transponder encoder to try to reach is last contact. Perhaps he had interesting jobs. But instead of the expected contact, he ended up talking to someone he didn't know and promptly closed the communication.
"My contact is gone it seems" he thought, then hid the encoder in a safe place for a later second try.
Has he cut the connection, Vaal'Ok felt that feeling of uneasiness as he approached the Corvus station. His first visit ever to a station in grey space.
There was another ship on the deck, beaten up like some space hobo or something. It was an older model--the kind of busses you dont see anymore.
The the space hobo-like ship actually belong to a space hobo-like beat-up Itani. And it wasn't a figure of speech. There were two UIT corporate bouncers literally bouncing their fists at the hobo and their conversation was constantly interrupted by the thumps of their knuckles on the spaced-out hobo.
"You piece of thump didn't hold up to your end of the thump bargain!
- Yeah you thump -less piece of thump. You made our client utterly thump"
It is at that point that Vaal'Ok Dasmar decided to intervene, using different but more expedite means.
"Leave him alone zap you corporate zap-bags!"
And they did leave him alone, interrupting his sobbing with only the sound of their lifeless carcasses thumping on the ground.
Vaal'Ok couldn't quite believe what he had done. Somehow, all his anger at his experiences past catalyzed and resulted in cold-blooded murder of citizens hardly worthy of better treatment. Still in shock, Vaal'Ok emptied the pockets of the carcasses, kept any interesting items and gave the few credit sticks to the sobbing hobo.
"Here. Get yourself a decent ride, decent clothes and bring something decent to eat to your loved ones. Don't come back around here if you can avoid it. Shoo!"
And so did the hobo.
Vaal'Ok Dasmar was left on the dock with corvus wrongdoers barely looking at him. it was time for him to leave. And so did he.