Reapers Passage [Fan Fiction] revised Chapter 3

[Paranoid66]

Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66

Chapter Three – Freedom Station

Bale smashed a meaty fist into a metal panel hard enough to split his knuckles and draw blood, ‘The self righteous tape worms leftover, just who does he think he is.’

‘The man in charge’, returned Amon blandly.

‘You standing for this, I only signed his damn charter so I could dock and get my ship repaired. Hell half my lads can hardly read. How much do you think a bunch of prissy data scrawls on a compad means to the likes of old Ploopydroop he only speaks Argon via a translator’, continued Bale aggressively.

Slightly embarrassingly no one knew the Boron Pirates real name. Inscrutably it refused to volunteer this information so Bales rather racist moniker of Ploopydroop had become his official pirate label. Oddly Ploopydroop didn’t seem to mind in fact he seemed to find it amusing along with a lot of other Argon customs and habits.

‘Well it mightn’t mean much to you but it means a lot to Jorac and Freedom Station is Jorac Central so unless you want to leave without your ships I suggest you kiss butt like the rest of us’, stated Amon, ‘besides he’s right the Argon are all over Elenas Fortune. I don’t know what they are up to, a weapons test, fleet manoeuvres, a show of force, looking for us. It doesn’t really matter what matters is that we stay nice and cosy and quiet until the storm blows over. That means you stay here until Jorac gives the all clear just like the rest of the bilge rats.’

‘I tell you Amon I like you, you’re an upright guy the sort a man could trust in a fire fight. I don’t have Joracs graces or education but I know a bad bet when I see one. Like I seen straight through that one you gave that sucker Sab. Well I don’t like the way this deck is getting shuffled and me and the boys are the ones that do the threatening, we aren’t the type to be easily intimidated’, Bale stated.

‘Listen, it’s only a temporary measure. Be reasonable it’s common sense not to draw any attention with an entire Argon war fleet in the sector. You wouldn’t whip out your tackle and start tinkling in the pool all your buddies are swimming in with the coppers standing over your shoulder’, illustrated Amon.

‘Alright sense is sense, so ill wait until those overstuffed clowns finish their business, so long as it don’t pan out to be in this direction, but then…’, Bale was physically shaking with agitation, ‘then me and the lads are out of here and nobody had better be blocking our way. Not even you!’, he emphasised prodding the big red headed pirate with a finger.

Amon grinned ignoring the threat and physical provocation, ‘Bale you have been in port too long, you’re going soft.’

‘Yeah well, you know, I can be real accommodating fellow’, bale replied, ‘just remember what I’ve said and you can tell Jorac that from me too.’

‘That wouldn’t be a good idea Bale it never pays to rock a boiling pot’, reminded Amon.

‘We’ll see’, replied the rash pirate, turning and storming off.

Bale found the rest of ‘The Black Rat Squadron’ in the most obvious location The Dive. They were all there even Ploopydroop sitting in a Boron water stool submerged up to his waste in salt water, luxuriating in the fresh expensive fluid.

‘So’, muttered Daem with a frown as he cradled an actively smoking bowl of the local weed.

‘We stay’, stated Bale, ‘It appears we have unwanted neighbours half the Argon fleet in sector a prancing parade or something.’

‘Cool you sure we can’t go have a look see’, asked Brek who was still young enough to be impressed by lots of shiny military ships.

‘Too risky those boys have really tooled up recently, not worth the agro’, Bale confessed.

‘With the Argon Navy or our host Jorac’, sneered Daem.

‘You guess’, replied Bale, reaching out toward one of the passing waitresses and dragging her onto his lap, ‘Myself I aim to make the most of the situation.’

‘Cursed right to that’, agreed Brek looking around as if searching for one of his own.

Ploopydroop just scooped up a flagon of water and tipped it over his upper exposed torso with a whimpering sigh burbling out from behind his water mask as he gently rippled his spreading tentacles.

‘S’pose it’s a good opportunity to do a little essential work on my Buzzard’, noted Daem already bored with the smoky joint, ‘been meaning to try my hand at over tuning the engine a few notches’, he admitted, ‘Damn Teladi speed restrictors always were set a bit low for my taste.’

‘Careful with that man’, said Brek, ‘Mess it up and the fly by wire will be up the smelly creek. Seen it happen to an impatient Paranid Peggy jock once, the boy ran straight into a Hercules TL down in Priests Pity at 2000ms. Can’t imagine with three eyes he didn’t see that one coming, much good the advanced warning did him’, he smirked, ‘Anyway by some freak his data recorder was set on open broadcast so the local authorities managed to collect an unusual amount of info for analysis. At the inquest turned out the extra engine tunings messed up the control interrupts of the rudder optimisations. At full acceleration his ship moved like a missile but suddenly steered like a pregnant argnu.’

‘Ouch’, replied Daem with feeling. ‘Still any moron that flits through a crowded sector at 2000ms is begging for it. Myself, I just want a little bit of an edge to surprise the competition.’

‘You’ll surprise more than the competition when you fly into an asteroid’, noted Bale, ‘I prefer to leave that sort of customisation to the professionals, even if it costs a shipload of easy won credits.’

‘It’s not a biggie, did a similar adjustment on my old Buster. You just have to shake down the systems in a bit of clean open space’, he explained.

‘Then you’re doubly out of luck, since we are grounded and in a station surrounded by a massive debris field’, sniggered the Squadron Leader.

‘Holy Paranidia’, replied Daem, ‘squinting through the smoke’, and wiping his eyes, ‘can’t believe I didn’t think about that, time to stop casually sucking in the fumes, think I’ll raid my bunk instead.’

‘Flashing his credit credentials’, Bale whispered something into the ear of the waitress that had been gently struggling to get off his lap. Suddenly she was all smiles. Dragging the now cooperative woman to her feet by a firm grip on her upper arm Bale said, ‘think I’ll join you.’

‘In that case I’ll pay for a bunk out back’, mumbled Daem before sauntering over toward the bar. He was in no mood to be kept awake by his leaders noisy ardour’s back at the squads shared billet.

With Bale and his female companion hauling butt out the door Brek found himself alone staring at Ploopydroop.

The Boron waved a tentacle at him admonishingly and started blowing some bubbles through his water mask. ‘Boron politely suggest you stop giving him the eye’, synthesised the voice of the softly, tinny accented translator.

Washing the floor with the top half of his drink Brek, rocked his stool with laughter!


Jorac stared into the data stream projected onto the wall of his quarters as if its scrolling pattern held the answer to his every dilemma. It was a strange affectation but he found watching the Stations raw code relaxing. Although entirely incomprehensible it reminded him that the efficient Central Monitoring System was always - in full flight operation - taking care of business, even when he by necessity was not.

Having the video projector installed to play the figures upon his bunk and wall as decoration had been one whim - he had as yet - not grown tired of. Having all those Argo on his doorstep was making life difficult and adding to his normal high burden of stress. Unlike his men he didn’t find it easy to let go via drug or drink fuelled revels. Besides he didn’t feel secure enough to drop his guard to that degree. It wouldn’t be the first time ownership of Freedom Station changed hands violently. If only the fleet would conclude its business and move on. He felt besieged their presence, and his forced response made the leader look weak to his men. Chances were he would be pushed to go atavistic and spill a little blood soon. Not that he was squeamish, but it was a waste of material, and would feel like something somebody else had instigated, not the pure pleasure it should be.

When he had discovered the joy of murder it had at first shocked him. He had been filled with a young man’s naive self loathing and disgust. Luckily others had helped him to see the error of this attitude, so now he just regarded this desire as another useful personal attribute. At least it was useful in his current line of business.

He found himself thinking of suitable candidates, Bale obviously sprung to mind but it would be too easy. Besides killing the captain of a crew even as unimpressive as The Black Rats always had unexpected, unpredictable consequences! Anyway the Boron worried him - either it was as amusing and innocent as it seemed - or as he suspected something much, much more. With their comical voice boxes and laughable appearance no other race was so easily underestimated. He had long suspected Ploopydroop of being an agent he just hadn’t been able to figure out for whom - which seriously impressed him.

Young Sab was also a candidate, personable but prone to gaffs. It would be easy to rile the hothead then cut him down when he overstepped himself. However, he was a very good m5 pilot despite himself, and scouts where in short supply due to usually being the first to die in any serious debacle. No, he would wait to see how Sab fitted in with the Wolves.

Amon? Well he had recently angered him but despite sensing that Amons overall commitment was wavering, he was as yet, too useful! Besides he was also the Leader of a Crew and The Grey Wolves were a totally different proposition to The Rats.

One of his own would be the best way to go, clearly showing that he was still capable of being both ruthless and unpredictable. Unfortunately, all The Fallen Angels were hand picked quality troopers. Still everyone had to be subordinate to the overall design which meant ultimately disposable. Finally he concluded he could afford to wait –at least for a while - maybe fate would intervene and some fool would present himself to the knife.

After double checking the functionality of his - state of the art - security system, and the integrity of his heavy door locks Jorac stripped a small practical low velocity slug thrower off his thigh slipping it under his pillow and lay down to rest.

Outside Freedom Station, Space Flies that had been chasing each other around the wreckage - flitting in random directions - collected to swarm around a tiny object that rested undetected by any more intelligent creatures. Tiny gravity fluctuations and other invisible emanations were acting as an attractant to the playful glowing alien life forms. One especially inquisitive individual swooped low unable to control its instincts it approached the device with the speed of a rocket, racing in as a moth might hurl itself toward a flame. However before it struck the objects surface it slipped gently across a repulsing shield to veer away like an errant spark. Unimpressed it continued in a wide arc drawing its brethren after itself.

[jackhanna88]

I like this story a lot. I reckon it's got the potential to be one of the best - I like your writing style, and the plot's a good one too. Your suggestion about a character index is a welcome one - especially if i have to come back to this after a break or something. Keep it up mate, it's really good!

[Paranoid66]

I like this story a lot. I reckon it's got the potential to be one of the best - I like your writing style, and the plot's a good one too. Your suggestion about a character index is a welcome one - especially if i have to come back to this after a break or something. Keep it up mate, it's really good!

Thanks again. On the character index front will try and put something together soon. I think organising this info will come in handy my end as well. At the moment it is just some scribbles on an A4 page.