GO!
An Outlaw Star/Heiphong System Fanfiction
Author: Jeckle
"I'm living up to my potential now for the first time. I know what I want to do now. And I know that no one can stop me. Too bad everyone else doesn't seem to know it too. It would make my life easier..." - Porter Lefou
Episode One: Upgraded Destiny
Daintly gripping the spectacles in her black claws, Stride awkwardly snapped open her case of sanitary napkins. Carefully, she removed a small hand towel, and began examining it... first the front, then the back. White. That perfect shade of white that confirmed it had never touched air, nor seen light before. She checked the front once more, before dabbing at her face. They were a neccesity in her business as a freelance mechanic (or at least they were on a station full of terrans with unkept dirty fingernails).
Satisfied she'd cleaned herself sufficiently, Stride looked up at the automatic door to the communication chamber, glaring suspiciously at it. She fumbled for her gloves, not wanting to set down her spectacles, because she wasn't terribly sure how clean the table by the comm room was. True, only she was supposed to use the comm room, but who was to say someone hadn't gone on and used it regardless of orders? Or worse... rats. They were everywhere else, why not the communications room?
She lifted her glasses to her lips, when suddenly her hand froze. No... she wasn't terribly sure how clean the glasses themselves were in the first place. She couldn't put those in her MOUTH! This was a dilemma. What if there was some dread terran engineered super virus that had come in contact with her spectacles?
Finally formulating a plan, she hurled the spectacles into the air. Stride quickly struggled to pull on her gloves. They were leather, and quite expensive, not being synthetic. But synthetics made her break out in a rash, so this expenditure was all too neccessary. Pulling one on, she tried to guide her claws through the tiny slits at the tips of the fingers, not wanting to mar the expensive clothing.
Clenching her fist once triumphantly as she succeeded in pulling on the glove without incident, Stride quickly followed with the second. But the leather material maliciously latched onto her skin, thwarting her efforts.
"No!", Stride mewed pitiably, yanking frantically at the garment, her hands still wet from the sanitary towelette. With a final gentle (For a ctarlctarl) pull, the second glove was tugged snuggly against her flesh. Gasping, she leapt up, pouncing on her glasses as they descended, tackling the bifocals in midair. She embraced them like an old friend, as she fell back to the ground, landing in a battle ready crouch.
Shaking out her braids, Stride looked to her left and right. No... no one was watching. She was sure. But she looked both ways a second time. Just in case. Folding her arms, she began glaring at the door again.
Looking to the left and right down the corridor a third time, she quickly slipped the spectacles on. Nimbly she stooped down to look at the keypad, typing out the passcode quickly, yanking the spectacles off as soon as she was finished, hiding them behind her back as she looked both ways yet again to confirm no one had seen her wearing them.
Stride tapped the switch with her claw impatiently, until the door slid open with a maliciously slow squeal of gears. While she constantly reminded herself the inanimate were just that... inanimate, as a mechanic and engineer it was sometimes hard to believe that the machines, the tools, the ships themselves didn't eye her... waiting for her to turn her back so they could snap a belt, or over heat, blowing a valve. Despite the fact a delicate touch was often required for her work, sometimes you just had to show technology who was boss, and give it a good kick. Especially terran technology. Filthy earthlings.
The CtarlCtarl wrang out her gloved hands on a fresh sanitary towelette, continuing to rub at the viscous black oil she'd already cleaned from her claws an hour before, as the door shut behind her. It was a tiny cubicle, the size of a confessional.
She wasn't catholic... nor human for that matter, thus she didn't make the comparison. It had been a long job, and frankly she hadn't enjoy even a single minute of it. Sure she'd been given almost limitless purchasing power, an excessive timetable, and she'd been given a chance to get a black market permit, thus legally obtain a plethora of nifty tools, "controlled alloys", grappler enhancements, and more... But she just plain didn't like her employer. MacDougal Corporation was a step above a Pirate Guild in her estimation. A very small step at that.
As usual, the video screen autodialed, the ringer sounding off a full five times before the other end picked up. "Well, what is it?" All that was available from the picture was a tall black chair, turned around to hide the face of the speaker. Stride sneered at the human, again reassuring herself, that it was only due to the fact she was being richly rewarded that she trafficed with one of the sub creatures. Especially Harry MacDougal.
"It's done. The cockpit is still missing, but you said that you'd take care of that, MacDougal."
"I did." The voice agreed softly. Silence stretched out, and if there was one thing Stride Prelprel couldn't take, it was useless silences. Frankly, she'd spent more time on this conversation then she'd wanted to, her attention having begun to drift. She had a bottle of Kei brand scotch to visit, as well as a wager to collect on the way. Stride had had quite enough of this cloak and dagger nonsense, "Well, you have Stride's account number, MacDougal. I want the rest of my money by tommorrow."
"Yes, I have it... and Stride. I've decided to add a bonus as well for your diligence, PrelPrel."
"Nyo?" Stride's ears perked up at that. It was a suprise. A big suprise, coming from MacDougal. He had a reputation as being a skinflint, on top of being as crooked as a Silgrian's spine. Maybe she'd take back some of the things she'd said about humans. Maybe. Oh, not the comments about them being dirty mongrels that aught to be put to sleep as soon as they saw sunlight. Those stood, because they were true after all. But maybe they weren't all capitalistic, spineless, egocentric, penny pinchers. Maybe they were just MOSTLY that way.
"Yes... I'm going to arrange a little rest for you. Enjoy it, Stride." Stride sniffed, her senses detecting a sudden change in pressure. The automatic steel door began trembled slightly, rattling in its frame. Stride's eyes swiveled from the door back to the screen, her teeth clenching as a growl began deep in her throat. It rose in crescendo, a beastial lion's roar echoing in the cabin.
The airlock had been opened...
The door began to buckle outward slowly with a soft metallic whine. "Thank you, PrelPrel. Rest in peace." The CtarlCtarl's blue eyes remained focused on MacDougal (or rather the back of his chair), as the steel door gave way, the air screaming out of the vid-cabin, pulling her with it.
Harry switched off the video link, and turned back to his guest. She continued tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, waiting for him to recognize her. She gave the impression of being a woman who didn't much like to wait on anything, and it was a fairly accurate impression. But then, Harry gave the impression of not really caring if she was inconvenienced. And oddly enough this was ALSO a fairly accurate impression, "Thank you for waiting, Lord Hitorega."
Bowing her head, which was obscured by a baggy canvas mask with a ragged shark's tooth smile, she waited for him to speak. "I will need the Kei Pirates assistance. You can deliver the... baggage, Lord Hitorega?"
"For the right price..." Stepping into the light, Hitorega's cream colored bodysuit matched her pale complextion. She lifted her gauntlet, allowing the three wickedly sculpted blades to slide forward, "We will be glad to, Mr. MacDougal." Her voice was gravely, as if she were snarling each word. Or had chronic lung damage. It was a disturbing voice, regardless of which. It was devoid of emotion or any "give" as it were. Hitorega gave the impression (Again an accurate one) that she didn't have much of a sense of humor.
Sliding a slim briefcase across the desk, Harry nodded softly, "This is the sample." Hitorega's blades sheathed themselves as she reached forward to snap open the case. Chill mist rose from it as the frozen container began to steam in the muggy room. Hitorega ran her slim gloved fingertips across the frosted glass, wiping away a layer of ice, allowing her to glimpse at its contents. A delicate woman's hand floated in the green fluid, well preserved by the look of it. Hitorega repacked the item slowly, before bowing her head again, "And we have yet to discuss payment."
"I've already offered you a substantial sum."
"I don't want money MacDougal... I want the leyline." Hitorega clicked her teeth together, the sound eeriely like that of an insect's mating call, "That's what you're going after isn't it?"
"What if I am?"
"Then I want in... and you need what I can provide. It's been almost four decades since... well, obviously the first Witch of the Leyline can't help you from where she is, in Hell. What is it you want? You've got more wongs then even the guild."
Harry's lenses whirred audibly as his synthetic eyes refocused themselves, "I want someone to sing for me again."
"Heh... if that's all, I'll sing for you at the gates to the Leyline, as long as I have what I want."
MacDougal snorted at the pirate lord, turning his chair away from the woman, "We'll discuss the payment later."
"If you like, but we will discuss it soon... I'll only need a few hours." Hitorega slung the suitcase over her shoulder before leaving MacDougal alone. Everything was falling into place again. Now... if only he could find the XGP. That bastard, Gene Starwind had taken care to hide it thirty years before. Before Harry had finally killed the gun slinger. He had been the last to die. After... after Melfina. Harry knew exactly what he was doing now however. With the leyline, he could bring them all back. Himself. His Brother. ... even Melfina. And he would make her love him this time around. It all depended on finding the XGP.
But he knew it was only a matter of finding the right man for the job. They'd locate the XGP, and he'd have the ship for himself. The Outlaw Star.
+++
Sparks lit as Stride clutched at the flooring, her claws digging great gouges in the reinforced steel hull as she was dragged from the comm room. Her tight braids whipped about in a frenzy, irritating her further as she caught the ring for the tool hatch. Feet kicking in the air, she snarled as the life support continued to blast oxygen into the cabin, creating a powerful wind tunnel.
Pulling herself forward inch by inch, she grinned a feral little smile as she made ground. *SNAP* The tool hatch's lock shattered under the pressure, causing the door to swing open, and hit her in the head. Cursing, she swung her feet forward, settling her boots against the floor. With a quick tug, the door snapped off it's hinges. Hurling it as the wind took her off her feet again, Stride hissed as she was dragged to the small porthole. The thick tool hatch door slammed against the leak, and suddenly the vaccum ceased, causing her to land with a heavy thud.
Stride lay where she fell, glaring up at the ceiling as if somehow it were responsible. Stride took stock of the situation calmly. She hurt all over. She was laying... on the FLOOR. The floor on which thousands of Terrans had marched to and fro across for almost a century. And there was a pain in her back that could ONLY be a pair of broken spectacles poking through her overalls. And to top it off... somehow she didn't think she was going to get paid the rest of her fee.
Yes... someone simply HAD to die. Or at least get put in a body cast...
+++
Porter rolled over in bed, in the state halfway between sleep and wakefulness...
His alarm clock was going off, buzzing loudly in his ear. Even in his groggy state, so keen was his mind that he could tell... something was off. It took a moment, as he hid his head under the pillow, before he cleverly deduced what was amiss. He was fairly certain he didn't HAVE an alarm clock. Yet it continued to buzz, despite the fact he had pointedly ignored its squawking presence. After some time he let out a soft sigh, finally relenting. Porter peeked out from under the bedsheets, looking about for the offending device.
It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together, after all, the effort of waking up for Porter was alot like trying to start a gas engine after a freeze. He had to try a few times to get his brain to turn over and start running. As his mind sputtered to life, he remembered that he did indeed... NOT have an alarm clock.
So it must be the door... the door buzzer was ringing. Parve' could get it... unless she was still asleep. Or meditating. Or she was thinking "Porter can get it."
Porter decided the third option was the most likely, and so put himself to the task of dragging himself to his feet. True... the door was ringing. But his morning ritual couldn't be rushed, and so he took his time at the mirror shaving while the door buzzer continued to sound. Tying his hair back, he allowed himself the neccessary luxury of selecting his suit. Choosing the black and green bodysuit, he zipped it up, and reached for his belt. Laden with his batons, it hung loosely atop his hips as he slid on his yellow longcoat.
Examining himself once more, he quietly confirmed that he was ready for the outside world. He was aggitated. He always was when he was woken up unnaturally, and today was no exception. As far as he was concerned the world outside should adhere STRICTLY to his convenience.
Leisurely in his descent down the steps, he stepped over the trip wire he'd installed last week gingerly before reaching the doorway. Porter opened the door, and was greeted by a short round little man in a crisp blue uniform. He looked like a corbonite, but for the fact he wasn't wearing an environmental suit. The squat gentleman seemed irritated himself, having been kept waiting outside for so long.
Porter tilted his head to the side curiously at the rotund little man, then shut the door without a word. He began making his way back upstairs when the buzzer rang again. Letting out a deep breath, he turned about and opened the door again. The man was still at the doorway, now looking somewhat confused. He peered at Porter before taking a breath to speak.
Porter spoke up first, asking, "Do you wear glasses?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you wear glasses? You're squinting."
"Uhmmm, no sir. I'm her..."
"No sir? No you weren't squinting? Yes you were. You still are."
"No, I meant I don't wear glasses."
"Ah." Porter nodded once, then let another lengthy silence pass before he closed the door again. He made it halfway upstairs before the buzzer sounded again, a long drawn out ring, as if someone were leaning on the button. Porter turned around again, opening the door. No longer looking curious, the gentleman looked flustered in his itchy uniform, "Sir, I'm here to..."
"Can you read Kanji?"
"Yes, I... I can. I'm here in regards to..."
"I'm confused."
"Pardon sir?" Taking off his cap, the man wiped the sweat from his balding head, the synthetic sun having upped the tempature. He was confused himself, but then he had a civic duty to be civil, "Why is it you're confused sir? I ha..."
"If you don't wear glasses and you can read kanji why are you knocking on my door?" Porter pointed down at the man's shoes. Looking down, he noticed a small brass plaque bolted atop the welcome mat proclaiming boldy, "No Solicitation.".
Understanding finally, he laughed, shaking his head at Porter, "I... I'm not a salesman. I'm delivering a package for a Miss Parve' Merisant."
"Oh..." Porter nodded as if pondering the matter. He looked down at the small package, and smiled at the mailman, "I see. Well carry on then." He waved, then closed the door. This time the man wasted no time with the buzzer, knocking on the door. Perhaps that wasn't the right word... Banging on the door. Yes, he began banging away at it with gusto. Porter opened the door once more, remaining utterly expressionless as he waited for the mailman to speak.
"I'm here with a..."
"A package?"
"Yes."
"Oh... well the mailbox is over there."
The messenger shoved his foot in the door this time as Porter tried to close it, "Wait! I need someone to sign for it!"
Porter mumbled, scribbling down "Porter Lefou", and accepting the package. It was a small oddly shaped little bundle, and he hefted it, impressed by the weight of it. The mail carrier took the clipboard back rudely, "Have a nice day sir."
Porter closed the door a final time, before examining the package in more detail on his way up the steps. Shaking it, he listened for a rattle. Hearing none he was disappointed. He was quite certain it couldn't be anything worthwhile without any moving parts. Down the hall he strode, finally arriving at Parve's door. Without knocking he opened the door, shivering as the cold air inside came rushing out.
Parve' always kept it below forty degrees in her own room, and Porter hated the cold more then anything. Seated in her chair as usual, she continued playing with her cards. She was "a unique find" to use one of her own favorite terms. Her blue hair was well tended and short, framing her pale face perfectly. One of three known to exist, she was a half breed. Her mother was human, but her father was a Silgrian. Porter tried not to think about it, mostly because of the ghastly mental images his subconcious conjured when he thought about the night of her conception.
Parve' looked human enough, with the exception of her skin which was so pale as to almost be blue. Having peeked at her once in a state of undress, Porter knew she also had fine blue feathers in various areas on her body. Or perhaps they were scales. He hadn't gotten a good look before she'd thrown an ashtray at his head. Aside from that, her eyes rotated in ways they... shouldn't, often looking in different directions when she wasn't paying attention.
Unaware of his presence, she thumbed through her deck, her black nails clicking as she shuffled. Porter didn't understand, nor trust the Tao. It was unnatural. Magic. Frankly, as far as he was concerned everything it could do, could be done without it. Besides which, he didn't understand what an antiques dealer would need the skill for. Admittedly Parve' used divination often with a capitalists zeal, taking advantage of her abilities to earn a quick buck... but it seemed like using an elephant gun on a fly to Porter. And he told her so frequently.
Porter poked her in the abdomen, "It's time for breakfast... it's your turn to cook." Her glazed eyes remained unfixed until Porter's fourth attempt to rouse her. Parve' blinked as if she'd been woken up from a dream, and pushed her deck aside, "Oh, good morning Porter!" It was the silgrian in her talking. An interesting biological fact, Silgrians secrete a saline solution when they "are attracted to" or "very much like" another person. This compound is infact almost identical to human sweat... thus the Silgrian seem unusually friendly to humans, because humans smell unusually friendly to them.
Porter didn't really care in the end, but it was something to know. Especially since it explained why Parve' was so much more friendly on muggy days when the tempature was up, "A man came by to see you."
"Hrmmm?" Parve' sat up in her chair, curious and suspicious at the same time. Her human half knew better then to talk to Porter, but sometimes it was unavoidable, "Who was it?"
"... I can't keep track of all of your gentlemen callers. Maybe if you got them some name tags."
"Gentlemen callers? What gentlemen callers, Porter? ... nevermind. What did he look like?"
"Fat... short... he was dressed like a mailman... I didn't know you went for that."
"For what?"
"Costumes. A little roleplaying... at this time of the morning."
Parve' tossed a card to Porter as she got up from her chair sighing, "Did I get a package?" Porter flipped the card over, the Prince of Clubs, and murmured, "Hrmmmm? No. You played cards while the doorbell rang. I got the package. It's your turn to make breakfast."
Snatching the package from him, Parve' pushed past him towards the door, "I hope you didn't have plans for tonight, Porter. I'm going to need you for a new aquisition." She shredded the canvas wrapping quickly, eager to view her prize. Porter tried to look over her shoulder, curious as to what had arrived. She snatched it from view to set it on the table, as if she had lost interest as soon as she found out what it was, "Yes, I'll definately be needing you. I've gotten a new pr..."
"Exciting, thrilling, fascinating. Now, breakfast." Porter frowned as she picked up her vid-phone, and slid out the door gracefully. The contents of the package glittered on the table where she had dropped it. It looked like a key... an old style spaceship key. Porter called after her before following, "What is it I'm guarding you from? Pirates? Aliens? Rabid dogs? You do know you're paranoid for an art dealer."
"Well, we recently made a killing. I'm buying the XGP prototype."
Porter made a face as he followed her down the stairs, hands folded behind his head, "An XGP? ... so you're running a vintage starship business on the side?"
"The XGP. The Outlaw Star."
"Yeah, the one that came in fourth in the Space Race three years running, right? The crew never once made it "in the money". I don't think anyone would waste good wong on it."
"I would, and I did." Parve' reminded him as she stopped at the foot of the stairs to peer over her shoulder, her albino eyes tracking his progress down the stairway, "While I'm impressed you know your history, at least pertaining to the Space Race, the XGP has made a few other marks on the past."
"It sounds like a waste of money if you ask me."
"That's what everyone tells me about you, but one of these days I'm sure you'll actually be useful in spite of yourself."
"You always were an optimist." He frowned as Parve' stopped in front of his case. It was a sturdy plain oak trophy case, filled with his various awards. While he claimed not to care a bit about them, and he believed this to be the case... for some unimaginable reason he was protective of them. One might even go so far as to claim he was proud, but that wasn't the proper word for it. He'd won them without effort, winning again and again against the best. And it bored him. "I did mention I'd be glad to pay your way to this year's fencing tourney, didn't I, Porter?"
Porter shrugged as if the idea didn't interest him in the slightest, and quickly changed the subject, "Why do you need me to guard a seventy year old ship? How is someone going to steal it? Get out in the vaccuum of space and push?"
Parve' ignored him for a moment, before explaining with a sigh, "I... I feel like something is going to happen."
Porter snapped on the stovetop hoping the reminder would serve to encourage her to start cooking. "A woman's intuition? Or is it that time of the month? They have pills for that now." Parve' made a point of ignoring him again, knowing how lightly he took Tao magic. She had other things to worry about now as well...
She'd heard of the Outlaw who sold the ship to her. Dragon's Vein M. She was the old breed of outlaw, known for excessive violence and recklessness. Usually it was all smoke screen for something else, for example, destroying a pirate heavy class ship to draw the attention of the Space Force away from her target. Parve' didn't know where someone like M would have found the XGP, and more over, she was concerned that perhaps M was pulling a fast one somehow. It was an odd coincidence though that MacDougal Corporation had begun making black market inquiries into the XGP as well. Parve' didn't care really.
Parve' had made certain that there was no leak on her end. No one would know about the arrival of the XGP, until the day before the auction. Hopefully M would be as discrete.
+++
The docking clamps locked into place with a heavy metal "clunk", securing the freighter and its cargo box. Her fingers flying across the keyboard, M finalized transfering the funds for docking fees. "Thank you for choosing Lou Storage... have a nice day." The computer chimed merrily back at her. M flipped the keypad up, stretching as she hopped out of the chair. She hadn't been to Blue Heaven in almost a year. While M had gained her reputation for salvage expeditions bordering on piracy, she had stopped trading some time ago.
It wasn't the risk, so much as the small return in profit. Think big if you want to make it big. That was the Outlaw's motto. Living hand to mouth just wasn't any way to live. That and... she didn't like Blue Heaven. Too many memories. But when word had reached her that MacDougal Corporation was looking for the XGP... well. M wasn't above grabbing for a big payoff like that, even if it did mean she'd have to deal with the damned trading guilds.
Stepping off the landing plank, she sniffed, suprised at the rancid stench that seemed to cling to the docks. It was a completely artificial environment, and somehow it was still only a matter of time before it became infested with filth. People really were dirty organisms...
Heavy footsteps echoed from behind, metal shod boots on metal. Tiv's monotone voice interrupted her brooding, "I don't understand why you can't deal directly with MacDougal Corporation, Ms. M. Wouldn't they have been able to save you the trip here?" Tiv was a service robot, an ATVU model (All Terrain Valiant Unit). He was one of the new breed of artificial intelligence. The kind that had been mistakenly programmed to think their opinion mattered. His bulky frame filled the doorway behind her, the red juggernaut standing at seven feet high and six wide.
"MacDougal isn't someone I want to deal with directly for personal reasons. You can't trust artifice. Even a personality dub like Harry MacDougal." M waited for the conveyor to activate, rather then walking down the boarding passage.
"Can't trust artifice. Well, that certainly hurt my feelings... But a contract's a contract, yes? Do you think MacDougal would steal the XGP? It's not logical. He has more then enough to buy it."
"Why pay any more then you have to? I'm discussing selling it with a small firm so it could be shipped without listing. Even if MacDougal wouldn't try to steal it, who's to say that there aren't other buyers interested? It's better for all parties involved that I transport it discreetly. And MacDougal Corp. couldn't possibly slip a prize like this in undetected with Space Forces breathing down their neck lately." The conveyer belt began to move, dragging them down the dimly lit corridor slowly, muted yellow neon lights giving M a headache. Supposedly they helped adjust the eyes for those who had been in the darkness of space for longer durations. M didn't believe it. They were expensive and required excessive amounts of upkeep. But then if it kept the Blue Heaven maintenance crew working, it at least helped the economy.
Tiv was quiet, knowing better then to argue, knowing further that M obviously hadn't told him what factors were involved in her plan. Thus, he had to trust her judgement in the matter, that this WAS the best course of action.
"This is the easiest way to smuggle it into Blue Heaven." M added as the doors opened with a woosh. The neon signs of the commercial district provided ample light for the cramped streets, but out of nostalgia the artificial sky was run every 12 hours, giving Blue Heaven a day to accompany it's "night".
"Welcome to Blue Heaven, M." M nodded at her welcoming party. The girl had the complextion of a corpse, pale white with a hint of blue. Dressed with an unusual flare, her ensemble was somewhere between a business woman's with frilled tie and waistcoat, and a space bumpkin, wearing bagging cargo pants with slim black boots, "I'm Parve' Merisant. Arrangements have been made to keep the cargo secure. This is my Box Guard, Porter Lefou." Her companion on the other hand was little more then a boy, seventeen years old at most. Pristeen, he seemed rather anal to M, all of his clothes obviously professionally cleaned and pressed. He held himself with a stand offish attitude of supreme arrogance, or at least... that was what it seemed to M.
"... that's some Box Guard. Is he old enough to drink yet?"
"I'm Tiv, ATVU, Freight Model." Tiv added quickly, hoping to avoid an incident. The Box Guard didn't seem to be amused, but kept quiet. Parve' answered for him with a slight smile and a laugh, "Yes he can. In fact, we were hoping to discuss the transition of the cargo at a little place down the street if you'd let us treat you." Though it was only a block to the place Parve' had in mind, she hoped they could make it before Porter opened his mouth.
On pins and needles the entire trip, she only allowed herself to relax when the drinks had been served. For a frieght model, Tiv seemed to be an excellent conversationlist, which was good, because his owner certainly wasn't. "Well, if you'd like to set a minimum bid, it's my intention to push this auction foward. I'm expecting it to go for a high price, nostalgia aside, I understand that MacDougal corporation is interested in it."
"Mmmm..." M commented, looking over her shoulder again. It was apparently a habit she'd cultivated. She did it every minute or so, despite having chosen a secluded booth in the far corner. It was making Porter nervous. Obviously he was overlooking something, but to him this seemed like a whole lot of nonsense. She just had to give them a minimum bid, so they could unload the damned thing. What was the problem?
"I don't like trusting the cargo to a boy, you understand?"
"... this is Porter Lefou." Parve' said again, a look of genuine suprise on her face at M's question. Porter had been blessedly quiet up to this point, and Parve' knew it couldn't last. M waved a hand dismissively, "I've never heard of him. I don't keep track of Blue Heaven muscle. Is he more then a name?"
"I was wrong about you, M." Porter interrupted, causing Parve' to hiss his name at him, signalling the boy to shut up. M paused to watch the boy's face, which was dull and expressionless as it had been the entire time, "Wrong about me? How's that?"
He didn't seem to hear, watching the race on the vid screen across from the table. He took a long sip from his glass, seemingly more intent on the show then the conversation. But after a sufficiently long pause of his own, he explained, "Your arms are twitching..."
"My arms?"
"Yes. I had thought you were a real bitch. I was mistaken."
M laughed at the statement, "Well thank you, but what has that got to do with my arms?"
"They're nano-prometheus prosthetics, aren't they? You aren't even a REAL bitch. No one with any real money would use rickety jobs like those, and you can't be much of an outlaw to have lost both arms."
Parve' covered her face, praying Porter wasn't about to get in a fight with a client... again. M snorted, her face suddenly lighting up as she began laughing again, "He has good eyes on him."
"Porter Lefou is one of the best Box Guards on Blue Heaven, Miss M." M looked back at Tiv, who nodded as if to confirm the statement. He took it as his mission to make certain to research their ports of call thoroughly, and he had indeed stumbled over the name, "Porter Lefou. Three times consecutive champion of Hephong Universal Fencing Tournament, declined to attend the last two years. Home planet, unknown. Date of birth, unknown. Diagnosed with minor obsessive compulsive disorder and poor social interaction skills."
"Poor social interaction skills? What would you know about social interaction, you tin plated mook?"
"My social template is upgraded by Miss M annually."
""Miss M"? What would SHE know about social interaction? When was the last time she had a date?"
"Unknown, unit has only been in operation for seven years and the event predates my activation." Tiv replied before M hissed at him to shut up, reaching across the table to snatch at Porter. Rocking back in his chair, Porter mused to himself, keeping just out of her grasp, "Yeah... she seemed like the old maid type. Wild, overbearing, and reckless. Couldn't love any man. But then it's not like any man could love her."
*CRACK* M's mug ricocheted off of Porter's head, sending his chair crashing to the ground. Stunned, he stayed on the floor, rubbing his head. Parve' reached into her coat, keeping an eye on M. True, she was a client, but Parve' couldn't let her kill Porter. He was her only Box Guard after all. Parve' stopped the motion however as she sniffed, smelling the subtle salty scent of tears. M smiled softly, bowing her head to hide her eyes, "I'm sorry, but I'm tired from my trip. I believe we can discuss minimum bidding tommorrow."
Parve' tilted her head to the side, the motion bird-like as her eyes rotated wildly in their sockets for a moment. Porter seemed to have actually hurt her feelings. It was strange for an outlaw to be so... sensative, "Well... we're going to go set up the security system, you have our number, so please don't hesitate to call with any concerns. I've booked a room for you during your stay." Parve' closed her folio, leaving a handful of wong on the table, "Thank you very much for your faith in Merisant Auction House."
+++
"She was a piece of work wasn't she? She paid for the docking fees herself, right?" Porter had begun pouting as they began the journey back to the docks, rubbing his head sullenly. She was fast. Damned fast. Someone had illegally amped her implants obviously. That explained the twitch alright. M was geared way beyond safe (let alone LEGAL) velocity levels.
"Stop complaining, Porter. It's only for a few days. You probably won't have to deal with her again." Parve' sighed, not able to admit she agreed entirely. The woman just exuded tension, making conversation and business dealings uncomfortable. Porter was... well, Porter was Porter. He had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. But M... Dealing with M was like feeding a wolf by hand. One had to watch out for their fingers, "You probably won't have to deal with her." Parve' repeated as she came back to herself.
"Are we going to have to deal with them?" He asked, derailing her train of thought. A trio of red suited... things clung to the shadows in back of them. Leaping from shadow to shadow, they were swift and light on their feet. The "men" were never visible for more then a moment at a time, and were too lanky to be human. Steel masks affixed with a sharks tooth grin hid their faces from view, but their eyes bulged from the face plates, with a wide-eyed souless glare. Parve' already knew what they were, if they had elluded her senses. Pirate guild. Parve' sniffed, catching a whiff of ozone, and looked to Porter who had switched on his batons. "Wait, Porter... What are pirate guild doing here?"
"Enjoying the local cuisine, taking in the sights I expect." Porter guessed as the gaunt trio rushed from the shadows, aware they had been detected. Claws slid into place from their gauntlets, as they surrounded the two, "Leave, Box Guard... all we want is the key."
In response, Porter drew his off-hand baton, the lightest of the set, extending it, the motion like that of a telescope. It locked itself to its full length of three feet with a series of "clicks". Porter gave it a twirl, expressionless as the red clad taoists circled him. "Well... don't you all look cute? But I don't have any candy, and halloween isn't for another few months. So beat it, kids."
Parve' drew a deck of Tao wards, fanning them out in her slim fingers as the gangly ninja's pounced. It wasn't neccessary, Lefou's baton tip crackled with energy as the generator at the handle began to hum.
With a single arcing stroke, he slashed up, parring the outstretched claw of the first attacker, the massive shock upon contact with the shock-baton sending him flying away from the Box Guard. On the downstroke, Porter twirled the baton into an underhanded grip, stepping forward, his legs following through with the motion of the first swing. His left boot left the ground as he spun around, turning his back on the pirate guilders for a moment. His leg circled about in a roundhouse kick, snapping the masked grunts face to the right with a wet pop that would require extensive chiropractic therapy to undo.
Porter allowed him to slump to the floor, as he brought the pommel of his baton forward into the gut of the final pirate. He doubled over, as Porter twisted his wrist, bringing the baton blade to rest on his steel mask for a moment. Then the generators hummed again, sending another jolt of electricity into the target. The whole matter settled in a few seconds, Porter snorted as he sheathed his baton, and looked to Parve'.
The only concious member of the party raised a twitching claw at Porter, hissing in his discordant voice, "You're dead, box guard."
"Coming from a guy in a trick or treat outfit, you sure talk big." Porter scoffed at the Kei Pirate, giving him a solid kick to the jaw, hoping to silence him, "You'd need a damn sight more then just three of you." Parve' cleared her throat nodding to the left alley. Porter turned to scowl at the rows of sharks grin masks that lined the alleyway. Some thirty pirate guilders stood watching quietly, "... of course."
"Porter? You have a plan?" Parve whispered as she leaned close to confer with him, tao cards readied.
"I do... run."
Parve' almost protested, but Porter had already taken to his feet, running for the docks. Parve' let out a yelp as a claw swished past her face. Flailing, she fell back on the asphalt and rolled on her clean clothes, trying to get some distance, claws plunging into the concrete behind her as the ninjas continued to snatch at her. Hopping to her feet, she began running, chanting under her breath as she chased after Porter, "Pagguasunpha pagguasunpha pagguasunpha..."
Like insects, the army skittered along the street, dragging their claws along the asphalt, sparks flying as they clawed their way after their prey. Porter had reached the automatic door for the XGP's dock and begun typing in the code.
The half silgrian rotated on one foot, gracefully turning in a 360, a fistful of wards flying from her hand, "PAGGUASUNPHA!" The strips of paper shot from her grip like daggers, striking through the concrete or flesh in its path before detonating in a series of blue kei fire explosions. Porter held the door open, allowing her to slip in first before lifting his hand. His light shield activated on full power for a moment, emitting a blinding flash, causing the remaining pirates to shield their eyes as the door shut.
"What's pirate guild doing here? They don't work well with MacDougal Corp." Porter asked, stretching as the conveyor belt led them down the corridor. Parve' ignored him for a moment, her eyes closed as she concentrated, "Porter, those were foot soldiers... they don't travel alone, usually they're accompanied by a taoist or general. Be alert..."
"Alert? No one's gotten in without the passcode, Parve'." He shook his head as they stepped off the gangplank to look up at the freight box. Parve' tugged on his coat, shaking her head, "These aren't common thieves, Porter. Don't be so cocky."
Porter lifted his hand with a sigh, his wrist link activating, "Freighter 15 mainframe. Respond. Clearance code, 42324. Report."
The computer system chimed back simply, "Intruder detected inside freight container 1523." Porter shook his head, giving the freight box a kick, "It can't be right. No one can get in. Even one of those creepy ninjas." Drawing his small baton again, it extended, electrical current causing it to vibrate slightly as he opened the door to the freight box itself, "Stay behind me..."
The area was enclosed, the XGP taking up a small portion of the cabin. Four levels of steps lined the walls, allowing for easy access and maintenance of the cargo. Porter began to ascend slowly, the sound of machinery making it difficult for him to pick any sound out. Then he saw it... something skittered across the railing. Something hairy. Watching the tail trail behind it, he snorted, "... I think it's a cat, Parve'." Porter sheathed his baton, turning back to give her a thumbs up.
"Watch out!" Parve' shouted back at him. Porter turned about quickly at the sound of a lion's roar, the fierce snarl echoing loudly in the cabin. One thing was apparent as he caught a closer glimpse of the intruder... it wasn't a cat.
TO BE CONTINUED... (Click-click)
An Outlaw Star/Heiphong System Fanfiction
Author: Jeckle
"I'm living up to my potential now for the first time. I know what I want to do now. And I know that no one can stop me. Too bad everyone else doesn't seem to know it too. It would make my life easier..." - Porter Lefou
Episode One: Upgraded Destiny
Daintly gripping the spectacles in her black claws, Stride awkwardly snapped open her case of sanitary napkins. Carefully, she removed a small hand towel, and began examining it... first the front, then the back. White. That perfect shade of white that confirmed it had never touched air, nor seen light before. She checked the front once more, before dabbing at her face. They were a neccesity in her business as a freelance mechanic (or at least they were on a station full of terrans with unkept dirty fingernails).
Satisfied she'd cleaned herself sufficiently, Stride looked up at the automatic door to the communication chamber, glaring suspiciously at it. She fumbled for her gloves, not wanting to set down her spectacles, because she wasn't terribly sure how clean the table by the comm room was. True, only she was supposed to use the comm room, but who was to say someone hadn't gone on and used it regardless of orders? Or worse... rats. They were everywhere else, why not the communications room?
She lifted her glasses to her lips, when suddenly her hand froze. No... she wasn't terribly sure how clean the glasses themselves were in the first place. She couldn't put those in her MOUTH! This was a dilemma. What if there was some dread terran engineered super virus that had come in contact with her spectacles?
Finally formulating a plan, she hurled the spectacles into the air. Stride quickly struggled to pull on her gloves. They were leather, and quite expensive, not being synthetic. But synthetics made her break out in a rash, so this expenditure was all too neccessary. Pulling one on, she tried to guide her claws through the tiny slits at the tips of the fingers, not wanting to mar the expensive clothing.
Clenching her fist once triumphantly as she succeeded in pulling on the glove without incident, Stride quickly followed with the second. But the leather material maliciously latched onto her skin, thwarting her efforts.
"No!", Stride mewed pitiably, yanking frantically at the garment, her hands still wet from the sanitary towelette. With a final gentle (For a ctarlctarl) pull, the second glove was tugged snuggly against her flesh. Gasping, she leapt up, pouncing on her glasses as they descended, tackling the bifocals in midair. She embraced them like an old friend, as she fell back to the ground, landing in a battle ready crouch.
Shaking out her braids, Stride looked to her left and right. No... no one was watching. She was sure. But she looked both ways a second time. Just in case. Folding her arms, she began glaring at the door again.
Looking to the left and right down the corridor a third time, she quickly slipped the spectacles on. Nimbly she stooped down to look at the keypad, typing out the passcode quickly, yanking the spectacles off as soon as she was finished, hiding them behind her back as she looked both ways yet again to confirm no one had seen her wearing them.
Stride tapped the switch with her claw impatiently, until the door slid open with a maliciously slow squeal of gears. While she constantly reminded herself the inanimate were just that... inanimate, as a mechanic and engineer it was sometimes hard to believe that the machines, the tools, the ships themselves didn't eye her... waiting for her to turn her back so they could snap a belt, or over heat, blowing a valve. Despite the fact a delicate touch was often required for her work, sometimes you just had to show technology who was boss, and give it a good kick. Especially terran technology. Filthy earthlings.
The CtarlCtarl wrang out her gloved hands on a fresh sanitary towelette, continuing to rub at the viscous black oil she'd already cleaned from her claws an hour before, as the door shut behind her. It was a tiny cubicle, the size of a confessional.
She wasn't catholic... nor human for that matter, thus she didn't make the comparison. It had been a long job, and frankly she hadn't enjoy even a single minute of it. Sure she'd been given almost limitless purchasing power, an excessive timetable, and she'd been given a chance to get a black market permit, thus legally obtain a plethora of nifty tools, "controlled alloys", grappler enhancements, and more... But she just plain didn't like her employer. MacDougal Corporation was a step above a Pirate Guild in her estimation. A very small step at that.
As usual, the video screen autodialed, the ringer sounding off a full five times before the other end picked up. "Well, what is it?" All that was available from the picture was a tall black chair, turned around to hide the face of the speaker. Stride sneered at the human, again reassuring herself, that it was only due to the fact she was being richly rewarded that she trafficed with one of the sub creatures. Especially Harry MacDougal.
"It's done. The cockpit is still missing, but you said that you'd take care of that, MacDougal."
"I did." The voice agreed softly. Silence stretched out, and if there was one thing Stride Prelprel couldn't take, it was useless silences. Frankly, she'd spent more time on this conversation then she'd wanted to, her attention having begun to drift. She had a bottle of Kei brand scotch to visit, as well as a wager to collect on the way. Stride had had quite enough of this cloak and dagger nonsense, "Well, you have Stride's account number, MacDougal. I want the rest of my money by tommorrow."
"Yes, I have it... and Stride. I've decided to add a bonus as well for your diligence, PrelPrel."
"Nyo?" Stride's ears perked up at that. It was a suprise. A big suprise, coming from MacDougal. He had a reputation as being a skinflint, on top of being as crooked as a Silgrian's spine. Maybe she'd take back some of the things she'd said about humans. Maybe. Oh, not the comments about them being dirty mongrels that aught to be put to sleep as soon as they saw sunlight. Those stood, because they were true after all. But maybe they weren't all capitalistic, spineless, egocentric, penny pinchers. Maybe they were just MOSTLY that way.
"Yes... I'm going to arrange a little rest for you. Enjoy it, Stride." Stride sniffed, her senses detecting a sudden change in pressure. The automatic steel door began trembled slightly, rattling in its frame. Stride's eyes swiveled from the door back to the screen, her teeth clenching as a growl began deep in her throat. It rose in crescendo, a beastial lion's roar echoing in the cabin.
The airlock had been opened...
The door began to buckle outward slowly with a soft metallic whine. "Thank you, PrelPrel. Rest in peace." The CtarlCtarl's blue eyes remained focused on MacDougal (or rather the back of his chair), as the steel door gave way, the air screaming out of the vid-cabin, pulling her with it.
Harry switched off the video link, and turned back to his guest. She continued tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, waiting for him to recognize her. She gave the impression of being a woman who didn't much like to wait on anything, and it was a fairly accurate impression. But then, Harry gave the impression of not really caring if she was inconvenienced. And oddly enough this was ALSO a fairly accurate impression, "Thank you for waiting, Lord Hitorega."
Bowing her head, which was obscured by a baggy canvas mask with a ragged shark's tooth smile, she waited for him to speak. "I will need the Kei Pirates assistance. You can deliver the... baggage, Lord Hitorega?"
"For the right price..." Stepping into the light, Hitorega's cream colored bodysuit matched her pale complextion. She lifted her gauntlet, allowing the three wickedly sculpted blades to slide forward, "We will be glad to, Mr. MacDougal." Her voice was gravely, as if she were snarling each word. Or had chronic lung damage. It was a disturbing voice, regardless of which. It was devoid of emotion or any "give" as it were. Hitorega gave the impression (Again an accurate one) that she didn't have much of a sense of humor.
Sliding a slim briefcase across the desk, Harry nodded softly, "This is the sample." Hitorega's blades sheathed themselves as she reached forward to snap open the case. Chill mist rose from it as the frozen container began to steam in the muggy room. Hitorega ran her slim gloved fingertips across the frosted glass, wiping away a layer of ice, allowing her to glimpse at its contents. A delicate woman's hand floated in the green fluid, well preserved by the look of it. Hitorega repacked the item slowly, before bowing her head again, "And we have yet to discuss payment."
"I've already offered you a substantial sum."
"I don't want money MacDougal... I want the leyline." Hitorega clicked her teeth together, the sound eeriely like that of an insect's mating call, "That's what you're going after isn't it?"
"What if I am?"
"Then I want in... and you need what I can provide. It's been almost four decades since... well, obviously the first Witch of the Leyline can't help you from where she is, in Hell. What is it you want? You've got more wongs then even the guild."
Harry's lenses whirred audibly as his synthetic eyes refocused themselves, "I want someone to sing for me again."
"Heh... if that's all, I'll sing for you at the gates to the Leyline, as long as I have what I want."
MacDougal snorted at the pirate lord, turning his chair away from the woman, "We'll discuss the payment later."
"If you like, but we will discuss it soon... I'll only need a few hours." Hitorega slung the suitcase over her shoulder before leaving MacDougal alone. Everything was falling into place again. Now... if only he could find the XGP. That bastard, Gene Starwind had taken care to hide it thirty years before. Before Harry had finally killed the gun slinger. He had been the last to die. After... after Melfina. Harry knew exactly what he was doing now however. With the leyline, he could bring them all back. Himself. His Brother. ... even Melfina. And he would make her love him this time around. It all depended on finding the XGP.
But he knew it was only a matter of finding the right man for the job. They'd locate the XGP, and he'd have the ship for himself. The Outlaw Star.
+++
Sparks lit as Stride clutched at the flooring, her claws digging great gouges in the reinforced steel hull as she was dragged from the comm room. Her tight braids whipped about in a frenzy, irritating her further as she caught the ring for the tool hatch. Feet kicking in the air, she snarled as the life support continued to blast oxygen into the cabin, creating a powerful wind tunnel.
Pulling herself forward inch by inch, she grinned a feral little smile as she made ground. *SNAP* The tool hatch's lock shattered under the pressure, causing the door to swing open, and hit her in the head. Cursing, she swung her feet forward, settling her boots against the floor. With a quick tug, the door snapped off it's hinges. Hurling it as the wind took her off her feet again, Stride hissed as she was dragged to the small porthole. The thick tool hatch door slammed against the leak, and suddenly the vaccum ceased, causing her to land with a heavy thud.
Stride lay where she fell, glaring up at the ceiling as if somehow it were responsible. Stride took stock of the situation calmly. She hurt all over. She was laying... on the FLOOR. The floor on which thousands of Terrans had marched to and fro across for almost a century. And there was a pain in her back that could ONLY be a pair of broken spectacles poking through her overalls. And to top it off... somehow she didn't think she was going to get paid the rest of her fee.
Yes... someone simply HAD to die. Or at least get put in a body cast...
+++
Porter rolled over in bed, in the state halfway between sleep and wakefulness...
His alarm clock was going off, buzzing loudly in his ear. Even in his groggy state, so keen was his mind that he could tell... something was off. It took a moment, as he hid his head under the pillow, before he cleverly deduced what was amiss. He was fairly certain he didn't HAVE an alarm clock. Yet it continued to buzz, despite the fact he had pointedly ignored its squawking presence. After some time he let out a soft sigh, finally relenting. Porter peeked out from under the bedsheets, looking about for the offending device.
It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together, after all, the effort of waking up for Porter was alot like trying to start a gas engine after a freeze. He had to try a few times to get his brain to turn over and start running. As his mind sputtered to life, he remembered that he did indeed... NOT have an alarm clock.
So it must be the door... the door buzzer was ringing. Parve' could get it... unless she was still asleep. Or meditating. Or she was thinking "Porter can get it."
Porter decided the third option was the most likely, and so put himself to the task of dragging himself to his feet. True... the door was ringing. But his morning ritual couldn't be rushed, and so he took his time at the mirror shaving while the door buzzer continued to sound. Tying his hair back, he allowed himself the neccessary luxury of selecting his suit. Choosing the black and green bodysuit, he zipped it up, and reached for his belt. Laden with his batons, it hung loosely atop his hips as he slid on his yellow longcoat.
Examining himself once more, he quietly confirmed that he was ready for the outside world. He was aggitated. He always was when he was woken up unnaturally, and today was no exception. As far as he was concerned the world outside should adhere STRICTLY to his convenience.
Leisurely in his descent down the steps, he stepped over the trip wire he'd installed last week gingerly before reaching the doorway. Porter opened the door, and was greeted by a short round little man in a crisp blue uniform. He looked like a corbonite, but for the fact he wasn't wearing an environmental suit. The squat gentleman seemed irritated himself, having been kept waiting outside for so long.
Porter tilted his head to the side curiously at the rotund little man, then shut the door without a word. He began making his way back upstairs when the buzzer rang again. Letting out a deep breath, he turned about and opened the door again. The man was still at the doorway, now looking somewhat confused. He peered at Porter before taking a breath to speak.
Porter spoke up first, asking, "Do you wear glasses?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you wear glasses? You're squinting."
"Uhmmm, no sir. I'm her..."
"No sir? No you weren't squinting? Yes you were. You still are."
"No, I meant I don't wear glasses."
"Ah." Porter nodded once, then let another lengthy silence pass before he closed the door again. He made it halfway upstairs before the buzzer sounded again, a long drawn out ring, as if someone were leaning on the button. Porter turned around again, opening the door. No longer looking curious, the gentleman looked flustered in his itchy uniform, "Sir, I'm here to..."
"Can you read Kanji?"
"Yes, I... I can. I'm here in regards to..."
"I'm confused."
"Pardon sir?" Taking off his cap, the man wiped the sweat from his balding head, the synthetic sun having upped the tempature. He was confused himself, but then he had a civic duty to be civil, "Why is it you're confused sir? I ha..."
"If you don't wear glasses and you can read kanji why are you knocking on my door?" Porter pointed down at the man's shoes. Looking down, he noticed a small brass plaque bolted atop the welcome mat proclaiming boldy, "No Solicitation.".
Understanding finally, he laughed, shaking his head at Porter, "I... I'm not a salesman. I'm delivering a package for a Miss Parve' Merisant."
"Oh..." Porter nodded as if pondering the matter. He looked down at the small package, and smiled at the mailman, "I see. Well carry on then." He waved, then closed the door. This time the man wasted no time with the buzzer, knocking on the door. Perhaps that wasn't the right word... Banging on the door. Yes, he began banging away at it with gusto. Porter opened the door once more, remaining utterly expressionless as he waited for the mailman to speak.
"I'm here with a..."
"A package?"
"Yes."
"Oh... well the mailbox is over there."
The messenger shoved his foot in the door this time as Porter tried to close it, "Wait! I need someone to sign for it!"
Porter mumbled, scribbling down "Porter Lefou", and accepting the package. It was a small oddly shaped little bundle, and he hefted it, impressed by the weight of it. The mail carrier took the clipboard back rudely, "Have a nice day sir."
Porter closed the door a final time, before examining the package in more detail on his way up the steps. Shaking it, he listened for a rattle. Hearing none he was disappointed. He was quite certain it couldn't be anything worthwhile without any moving parts. Down the hall he strode, finally arriving at Parve's door. Without knocking he opened the door, shivering as the cold air inside came rushing out.
Parve' always kept it below forty degrees in her own room, and Porter hated the cold more then anything. Seated in her chair as usual, she continued playing with her cards. She was "a unique find" to use one of her own favorite terms. Her blue hair was well tended and short, framing her pale face perfectly. One of three known to exist, she was a half breed. Her mother was human, but her father was a Silgrian. Porter tried not to think about it, mostly because of the ghastly mental images his subconcious conjured when he thought about the night of her conception.
Parve' looked human enough, with the exception of her skin which was so pale as to almost be blue. Having peeked at her once in a state of undress, Porter knew she also had fine blue feathers in various areas on her body. Or perhaps they were scales. He hadn't gotten a good look before she'd thrown an ashtray at his head. Aside from that, her eyes rotated in ways they... shouldn't, often looking in different directions when she wasn't paying attention.
Unaware of his presence, she thumbed through her deck, her black nails clicking as she shuffled. Porter didn't understand, nor trust the Tao. It was unnatural. Magic. Frankly, as far as he was concerned everything it could do, could be done without it. Besides which, he didn't understand what an antiques dealer would need the skill for. Admittedly Parve' used divination often with a capitalists zeal, taking advantage of her abilities to earn a quick buck... but it seemed like using an elephant gun on a fly to Porter. And he told her so frequently.
Porter poked her in the abdomen, "It's time for breakfast... it's your turn to cook." Her glazed eyes remained unfixed until Porter's fourth attempt to rouse her. Parve' blinked as if she'd been woken up from a dream, and pushed her deck aside, "Oh, good morning Porter!" It was the silgrian in her talking. An interesting biological fact, Silgrians secrete a saline solution when they "are attracted to" or "very much like" another person. This compound is infact almost identical to human sweat... thus the Silgrian seem unusually friendly to humans, because humans smell unusually friendly to them.
Porter didn't really care in the end, but it was something to know. Especially since it explained why Parve' was so much more friendly on muggy days when the tempature was up, "A man came by to see you."
"Hrmmm?" Parve' sat up in her chair, curious and suspicious at the same time. Her human half knew better then to talk to Porter, but sometimes it was unavoidable, "Who was it?"
"... I can't keep track of all of your gentlemen callers. Maybe if you got them some name tags."
"Gentlemen callers? What gentlemen callers, Porter? ... nevermind. What did he look like?"
"Fat... short... he was dressed like a mailman... I didn't know you went for that."
"For what?"
"Costumes. A little roleplaying... at this time of the morning."
Parve' tossed a card to Porter as she got up from her chair sighing, "Did I get a package?" Porter flipped the card over, the Prince of Clubs, and murmured, "Hrmmmm? No. You played cards while the doorbell rang. I got the package. It's your turn to make breakfast."
Snatching the package from him, Parve' pushed past him towards the door, "I hope you didn't have plans for tonight, Porter. I'm going to need you for a new aquisition." She shredded the canvas wrapping quickly, eager to view her prize. Porter tried to look over her shoulder, curious as to what had arrived. She snatched it from view to set it on the table, as if she had lost interest as soon as she found out what it was, "Yes, I'll definately be needing you. I've gotten a new pr..."
"Exciting, thrilling, fascinating. Now, breakfast." Porter frowned as she picked up her vid-phone, and slid out the door gracefully. The contents of the package glittered on the table where she had dropped it. It looked like a key... an old style spaceship key. Porter called after her before following, "What is it I'm guarding you from? Pirates? Aliens? Rabid dogs? You do know you're paranoid for an art dealer."
"Well, we recently made a killing. I'm buying the XGP prototype."
Porter made a face as he followed her down the stairs, hands folded behind his head, "An XGP? ... so you're running a vintage starship business on the side?"
"The XGP. The Outlaw Star."
"Yeah, the one that came in fourth in the Space Race three years running, right? The crew never once made it "in the money". I don't think anyone would waste good wong on it."
"I would, and I did." Parve' reminded him as she stopped at the foot of the stairs to peer over her shoulder, her albino eyes tracking his progress down the stairway, "While I'm impressed you know your history, at least pertaining to the Space Race, the XGP has made a few other marks on the past."
"It sounds like a waste of money if you ask me."
"That's what everyone tells me about you, but one of these days I'm sure you'll actually be useful in spite of yourself."
"You always were an optimist." He frowned as Parve' stopped in front of his case. It was a sturdy plain oak trophy case, filled with his various awards. While he claimed not to care a bit about them, and he believed this to be the case... for some unimaginable reason he was protective of them. One might even go so far as to claim he was proud, but that wasn't the proper word for it. He'd won them without effort, winning again and again against the best. And it bored him. "I did mention I'd be glad to pay your way to this year's fencing tourney, didn't I, Porter?"
Porter shrugged as if the idea didn't interest him in the slightest, and quickly changed the subject, "Why do you need me to guard a seventy year old ship? How is someone going to steal it? Get out in the vaccuum of space and push?"
Parve' ignored him for a moment, before explaining with a sigh, "I... I feel like something is going to happen."
Porter snapped on the stovetop hoping the reminder would serve to encourage her to start cooking. "A woman's intuition? Or is it that time of the month? They have pills for that now." Parve' made a point of ignoring him again, knowing how lightly he took Tao magic. She had other things to worry about now as well...
She'd heard of the Outlaw who sold the ship to her. Dragon's Vein M. She was the old breed of outlaw, known for excessive violence and recklessness. Usually it was all smoke screen for something else, for example, destroying a pirate heavy class ship to draw the attention of the Space Force away from her target. Parve' didn't know where someone like M would have found the XGP, and more over, she was concerned that perhaps M was pulling a fast one somehow. It was an odd coincidence though that MacDougal Corporation had begun making black market inquiries into the XGP as well. Parve' didn't care really.
Parve' had made certain that there was no leak on her end. No one would know about the arrival of the XGP, until the day before the auction. Hopefully M would be as discrete.
+++
The docking clamps locked into place with a heavy metal "clunk", securing the freighter and its cargo box. Her fingers flying across the keyboard, M finalized transfering the funds for docking fees. "Thank you for choosing Lou Storage... have a nice day." The computer chimed merrily back at her. M flipped the keypad up, stretching as she hopped out of the chair. She hadn't been to Blue Heaven in almost a year. While M had gained her reputation for salvage expeditions bordering on piracy, she had stopped trading some time ago.
It wasn't the risk, so much as the small return in profit. Think big if you want to make it big. That was the Outlaw's motto. Living hand to mouth just wasn't any way to live. That and... she didn't like Blue Heaven. Too many memories. But when word had reached her that MacDougal Corporation was looking for the XGP... well. M wasn't above grabbing for a big payoff like that, even if it did mean she'd have to deal with the damned trading guilds.
Stepping off the landing plank, she sniffed, suprised at the rancid stench that seemed to cling to the docks. It was a completely artificial environment, and somehow it was still only a matter of time before it became infested with filth. People really were dirty organisms...
Heavy footsteps echoed from behind, metal shod boots on metal. Tiv's monotone voice interrupted her brooding, "I don't understand why you can't deal directly with MacDougal Corporation, Ms. M. Wouldn't they have been able to save you the trip here?" Tiv was a service robot, an ATVU model (All Terrain Valiant Unit). He was one of the new breed of artificial intelligence. The kind that had been mistakenly programmed to think their opinion mattered. His bulky frame filled the doorway behind her, the red juggernaut standing at seven feet high and six wide.
"MacDougal isn't someone I want to deal with directly for personal reasons. You can't trust artifice. Even a personality dub like Harry MacDougal." M waited for the conveyor to activate, rather then walking down the boarding passage.
"Can't trust artifice. Well, that certainly hurt my feelings... But a contract's a contract, yes? Do you think MacDougal would steal the XGP? It's not logical. He has more then enough to buy it."
"Why pay any more then you have to? I'm discussing selling it with a small firm so it could be shipped without listing. Even if MacDougal wouldn't try to steal it, who's to say that there aren't other buyers interested? It's better for all parties involved that I transport it discreetly. And MacDougal Corp. couldn't possibly slip a prize like this in undetected with Space Forces breathing down their neck lately." The conveyer belt began to move, dragging them down the dimly lit corridor slowly, muted yellow neon lights giving M a headache. Supposedly they helped adjust the eyes for those who had been in the darkness of space for longer durations. M didn't believe it. They were expensive and required excessive amounts of upkeep. But then if it kept the Blue Heaven maintenance crew working, it at least helped the economy.
Tiv was quiet, knowing better then to argue, knowing further that M obviously hadn't told him what factors were involved in her plan. Thus, he had to trust her judgement in the matter, that this WAS the best course of action.
"This is the easiest way to smuggle it into Blue Heaven." M added as the doors opened with a woosh. The neon signs of the commercial district provided ample light for the cramped streets, but out of nostalgia the artificial sky was run every 12 hours, giving Blue Heaven a day to accompany it's "night".
"Welcome to Blue Heaven, M." M nodded at her welcoming party. The girl had the complextion of a corpse, pale white with a hint of blue. Dressed with an unusual flare, her ensemble was somewhere between a business woman's with frilled tie and waistcoat, and a space bumpkin, wearing bagging cargo pants with slim black boots, "I'm Parve' Merisant. Arrangements have been made to keep the cargo secure. This is my Box Guard, Porter Lefou." Her companion on the other hand was little more then a boy, seventeen years old at most. Pristeen, he seemed rather anal to M, all of his clothes obviously professionally cleaned and pressed. He held himself with a stand offish attitude of supreme arrogance, or at least... that was what it seemed to M.
"... that's some Box Guard. Is he old enough to drink yet?"
"I'm Tiv, ATVU, Freight Model." Tiv added quickly, hoping to avoid an incident. The Box Guard didn't seem to be amused, but kept quiet. Parve' answered for him with a slight smile and a laugh, "Yes he can. In fact, we were hoping to discuss the transition of the cargo at a little place down the street if you'd let us treat you." Though it was only a block to the place Parve' had in mind, she hoped they could make it before Porter opened his mouth.
On pins and needles the entire trip, she only allowed herself to relax when the drinks had been served. For a frieght model, Tiv seemed to be an excellent conversationlist, which was good, because his owner certainly wasn't. "Well, if you'd like to set a minimum bid, it's my intention to push this auction foward. I'm expecting it to go for a high price, nostalgia aside, I understand that MacDougal corporation is interested in it."
"Mmmm..." M commented, looking over her shoulder again. It was apparently a habit she'd cultivated. She did it every minute or so, despite having chosen a secluded booth in the far corner. It was making Porter nervous. Obviously he was overlooking something, but to him this seemed like a whole lot of nonsense. She just had to give them a minimum bid, so they could unload the damned thing. What was the problem?
"I don't like trusting the cargo to a boy, you understand?"
"... this is Porter Lefou." Parve' said again, a look of genuine suprise on her face at M's question. Porter had been blessedly quiet up to this point, and Parve' knew it couldn't last. M waved a hand dismissively, "I've never heard of him. I don't keep track of Blue Heaven muscle. Is he more then a name?"
"I was wrong about you, M." Porter interrupted, causing Parve' to hiss his name at him, signalling the boy to shut up. M paused to watch the boy's face, which was dull and expressionless as it had been the entire time, "Wrong about me? How's that?"
He didn't seem to hear, watching the race on the vid screen across from the table. He took a long sip from his glass, seemingly more intent on the show then the conversation. But after a sufficiently long pause of his own, he explained, "Your arms are twitching..."
"My arms?"
"Yes. I had thought you were a real bitch. I was mistaken."
M laughed at the statement, "Well thank you, but what has that got to do with my arms?"
"They're nano-prometheus prosthetics, aren't they? You aren't even a REAL bitch. No one with any real money would use rickety jobs like those, and you can't be much of an outlaw to have lost both arms."
Parve' covered her face, praying Porter wasn't about to get in a fight with a client... again. M snorted, her face suddenly lighting up as she began laughing again, "He has good eyes on him."
"Porter Lefou is one of the best Box Guards on Blue Heaven, Miss M." M looked back at Tiv, who nodded as if to confirm the statement. He took it as his mission to make certain to research their ports of call thoroughly, and he had indeed stumbled over the name, "Porter Lefou. Three times consecutive champion of Hephong Universal Fencing Tournament, declined to attend the last two years. Home planet, unknown. Date of birth, unknown. Diagnosed with minor obsessive compulsive disorder and poor social interaction skills."
"Poor social interaction skills? What would you know about social interaction, you tin plated mook?"
"My social template is upgraded by Miss M annually."
""Miss M"? What would SHE know about social interaction? When was the last time she had a date?"
"Unknown, unit has only been in operation for seven years and the event predates my activation." Tiv replied before M hissed at him to shut up, reaching across the table to snatch at Porter. Rocking back in his chair, Porter mused to himself, keeping just out of her grasp, "Yeah... she seemed like the old maid type. Wild, overbearing, and reckless. Couldn't love any man. But then it's not like any man could love her."
*CRACK* M's mug ricocheted off of Porter's head, sending his chair crashing to the ground. Stunned, he stayed on the floor, rubbing his head. Parve' reached into her coat, keeping an eye on M. True, she was a client, but Parve' couldn't let her kill Porter. He was her only Box Guard after all. Parve' stopped the motion however as she sniffed, smelling the subtle salty scent of tears. M smiled softly, bowing her head to hide her eyes, "I'm sorry, but I'm tired from my trip. I believe we can discuss minimum bidding tommorrow."
Parve' tilted her head to the side, the motion bird-like as her eyes rotated wildly in their sockets for a moment. Porter seemed to have actually hurt her feelings. It was strange for an outlaw to be so... sensative, "Well... we're going to go set up the security system, you have our number, so please don't hesitate to call with any concerns. I've booked a room for you during your stay." Parve' closed her folio, leaving a handful of wong on the table, "Thank you very much for your faith in Merisant Auction House."
+++
"She was a piece of work wasn't she? She paid for the docking fees herself, right?" Porter had begun pouting as they began the journey back to the docks, rubbing his head sullenly. She was fast. Damned fast. Someone had illegally amped her implants obviously. That explained the twitch alright. M was geared way beyond safe (let alone LEGAL) velocity levels.
"Stop complaining, Porter. It's only for a few days. You probably won't have to deal with her again." Parve' sighed, not able to admit she agreed entirely. The woman just exuded tension, making conversation and business dealings uncomfortable. Porter was... well, Porter was Porter. He had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. But M... Dealing with M was like feeding a wolf by hand. One had to watch out for their fingers, "You probably won't have to deal with her." Parve' repeated as she came back to herself.
"Are we going to have to deal with them?" He asked, derailing her train of thought. A trio of red suited... things clung to the shadows in back of them. Leaping from shadow to shadow, they were swift and light on their feet. The "men" were never visible for more then a moment at a time, and were too lanky to be human. Steel masks affixed with a sharks tooth grin hid their faces from view, but their eyes bulged from the face plates, with a wide-eyed souless glare. Parve' already knew what they were, if they had elluded her senses. Pirate guild. Parve' sniffed, catching a whiff of ozone, and looked to Porter who had switched on his batons. "Wait, Porter... What are pirate guild doing here?"
"Enjoying the local cuisine, taking in the sights I expect." Porter guessed as the gaunt trio rushed from the shadows, aware they had been detected. Claws slid into place from their gauntlets, as they surrounded the two, "Leave, Box Guard... all we want is the key."
In response, Porter drew his off-hand baton, the lightest of the set, extending it, the motion like that of a telescope. It locked itself to its full length of three feet with a series of "clicks". Porter gave it a twirl, expressionless as the red clad taoists circled him. "Well... don't you all look cute? But I don't have any candy, and halloween isn't for another few months. So beat it, kids."
Parve' drew a deck of Tao wards, fanning them out in her slim fingers as the gangly ninja's pounced. It wasn't neccessary, Lefou's baton tip crackled with energy as the generator at the handle began to hum.
With a single arcing stroke, he slashed up, parring the outstretched claw of the first attacker, the massive shock upon contact with the shock-baton sending him flying away from the Box Guard. On the downstroke, Porter twirled the baton into an underhanded grip, stepping forward, his legs following through with the motion of the first swing. His left boot left the ground as he spun around, turning his back on the pirate guilders for a moment. His leg circled about in a roundhouse kick, snapping the masked grunts face to the right with a wet pop that would require extensive chiropractic therapy to undo.
Porter allowed him to slump to the floor, as he brought the pommel of his baton forward into the gut of the final pirate. He doubled over, as Porter twisted his wrist, bringing the baton blade to rest on his steel mask for a moment. Then the generators hummed again, sending another jolt of electricity into the target. The whole matter settled in a few seconds, Porter snorted as he sheathed his baton, and looked to Parve'.
The only concious member of the party raised a twitching claw at Porter, hissing in his discordant voice, "You're dead, box guard."
"Coming from a guy in a trick or treat outfit, you sure talk big." Porter scoffed at the Kei Pirate, giving him a solid kick to the jaw, hoping to silence him, "You'd need a damn sight more then just three of you." Parve' cleared her throat nodding to the left alley. Porter turned to scowl at the rows of sharks grin masks that lined the alleyway. Some thirty pirate guilders stood watching quietly, "... of course."
"Porter? You have a plan?" Parve whispered as she leaned close to confer with him, tao cards readied.
"I do... run."
Parve' almost protested, but Porter had already taken to his feet, running for the docks. Parve' let out a yelp as a claw swished past her face. Flailing, she fell back on the asphalt and rolled on her clean clothes, trying to get some distance, claws plunging into the concrete behind her as the ninjas continued to snatch at her. Hopping to her feet, she began running, chanting under her breath as she chased after Porter, "Pagguasunpha pagguasunpha pagguasunpha..."
Like insects, the army skittered along the street, dragging their claws along the asphalt, sparks flying as they clawed their way after their prey. Porter had reached the automatic door for the XGP's dock and begun typing in the code.
The half silgrian rotated on one foot, gracefully turning in a 360, a fistful of wards flying from her hand, "PAGGUASUNPHA!" The strips of paper shot from her grip like daggers, striking through the concrete or flesh in its path before detonating in a series of blue kei fire explosions. Porter held the door open, allowing her to slip in first before lifting his hand. His light shield activated on full power for a moment, emitting a blinding flash, causing the remaining pirates to shield their eyes as the door shut.
"What's pirate guild doing here? They don't work well with MacDougal Corp." Porter asked, stretching as the conveyor belt led them down the corridor. Parve' ignored him for a moment, her eyes closed as she concentrated, "Porter, those were foot soldiers... they don't travel alone, usually they're accompanied by a taoist or general. Be alert..."
"Alert? No one's gotten in without the passcode, Parve'." He shook his head as they stepped off the gangplank to look up at the freight box. Parve' tugged on his coat, shaking her head, "These aren't common thieves, Porter. Don't be so cocky."
Porter lifted his hand with a sigh, his wrist link activating, "Freighter 15 mainframe. Respond. Clearance code, 42324. Report."
The computer system chimed back simply, "Intruder detected inside freight container 1523." Porter shook his head, giving the freight box a kick, "It can't be right. No one can get in. Even one of those creepy ninjas." Drawing his small baton again, it extended, electrical current causing it to vibrate slightly as he opened the door to the freight box itself, "Stay behind me..."
The area was enclosed, the XGP taking up a small portion of the cabin. Four levels of steps lined the walls, allowing for easy access and maintenance of the cargo. Porter began to ascend slowly, the sound of machinery making it difficult for him to pick any sound out. Then he saw it... something skittered across the railing. Something hairy. Watching the tail trail behind it, he snorted, "... I think it's a cat, Parve'." Porter sheathed his baton, turning back to give her a thumbs up.
"Watch out!" Parve' shouted back at him. Porter turned about quickly at the sound of a lion's roar, the fierce snarl echoing loudly in the cabin. One thing was apparent as he caught a closer glimpse of the intruder... it wasn't a cat.
TO BE CONTINUED... (Click-click)