Reapers Passage [Fan Fiction] revised Chapter 4

[Paranoid66]

Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66

Chapter 4 - A Gathering Storm at ArgonForge 4

Abel was so intent on watching the multicoloured blips representing the massed ranks of the visiting Argon Navy that he failed to notice a lone scout ship on a standard approach vector. Only when his com lit up with a formal request to dock did he finally register the newcomer on the screen. Well it was hardly important, he stifled a yawn, just one more detail covered almost entirely by automatics. Luckily everybody else had been too busy to notice the lapse. Struggling Abel strove to look busy and stay awake, it failed to help that he didn’t even have to answer the request. The computer automatically gave out all the usual clipped instructions and race rank response welcomes. He considered turning it off and going manual for a spell, but this evening it seemed like too much effort! He was still suffering from the aftermath of a late - after shift - arrival at the big function the other day. To be honest he was surprised he had been invited at all so felt obliged to go, of course it was a rare opportunity to gobble down some real food and swig some wine.

As the taped welcome completed, Abel was reminded of something an Argo psychologist had once told him, that they were based on a formal tally system of kudos meant to be an incentive toward good civil behaviour. Rather late he glanced over the IFF for any irregularities and recognised it as an old friend of the station Garrin in his rather alarmingly named ‘The Grim Reaper’ Discoverer. Again he was tempted to open a channel this time to start a conversation, but he knew Gregor was still hovering somewhere and wouldn’t appreciate any idle cit chat deviation from base protocols. So once again he didn’t bother doing anything. Really he just wanted to get his shift over and done with, get a bite to eat from a cheap vendor in the station Bazaar, guzzle a few beers and die on his cot. He was sick and tired of being a glorified nursemaid to a bunch of silicon processors. If it wasn’t for potential emergencies he wouldn’t be needed at all.

Of all the staff in the DC&C - Dock Command and Control - he sometimes felt like he was the most jaded and hopeless. On the wrong side of forty his career had stalled along with his enthusiasm. Once he had delighted in the technology and actively taken part in technical workshops, and other self improvement AF run courses. Now he just did a job of work then wandered off to the cramped smelly quarters he called home and tried to forget about his working life through his favourite hobby VR gaming.

Thinking about Garrin did bring a smirk to his face though as it reminded him of the OTT but pretty cool artwork decorating the rash couriers Discoverer. Pilots where all a little mad, he would lay a bet of a months wages that the navy boys had scanned G every which way from the gate. I mean what had possessed the trader to name his ship after Death. It was like that old joke about passing a rubber glove to customs on arrival at some backwater region with inadequate scanners. Face it that’s just asking to get invaded!

Well at least it would keep the Lt. Constable off his back – in relation to his occasional pre work drinking habits, not that it was any of her business! Yes, Elaen should be happy and preoccupied for a few days especially if she managed to get a few moments off. She was a darling really but also rather intimidating. It wasn’t the gun either it was that occasional measuring stare. The one that said she knew when he couldn’t resist mentally undressing her and that she didn’t much like it!

It was especially hard not to stare when he felt so tired, and the current schedules continued to be hectic. Gregor was convinced Four had more to give and was still relentlessly pushing everybody to get even better results. Maybe he should suggest G do a run for extra stims, he doubted the stations current legit pharmaceutical supplies where going to hold up much longer. Unlike some he considered the black market stuff to be iffy: unreliable (variable in strength), too expensive and too dangerous.

Like Elaen who thrived on the stuff he would be happy with the simple luxury of a regular supply of coffee, the smell of a few roasted beans would be heaven. Damn even the horrible bitter old green tea his granny used to favour would seem delicious at the moment, after all he was sure that also contained a good percentage of caffeine. It was Elaen’s rumoured ability to get coffee – when no one else had any - that had drawn him into her circle in the first place. Though hardly the best of buddies he had managed to wheedle his way in by doing small inconsequential favours for G in relation to the allocation of favourable docking berths, extra quick transit of permits and so on.

All in all it had all been going rather well G had even loaned him some credits on more than one occasion. Then one day Elaen had dragged him aside claimed he was intoxicated on duty, and threatened to go official if he didn’t clean himself up. A major falling out had followed. At first he had been happy to give her a wide berth, sulking at her treatment, but in the end his caffeine addiction forced him to grovel, and be on his best behaviour for weeks. Finally when he was just about to give up on this campaign his miserable puppy dog face had cracked her iciness and old Abel returned to the fold. However she still watched his alcohol consumption like she was his hawkish wife.

Leaning against his console he cursed the fact that the company had refused to give them proper seats, only specially designed leaning props. Still if he had been sitting down maybe he would have been asleep by now; instead of just gazing blurry eyed at a few millimetre long representations of the Argons biggest engines of mass destruction. What were all those warships doing here anyway? He hoped they didn’t know something he didn’t. Even with all that friendly firepower around he was no hero and wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of something like the battle of Omicron Lyrae! Oh it made for grand news footage but you wouldn’t want to live it.

Now, that was a real mystery. I mean what exactly did the Khaak want? Everybody has desires, destruction for the sake of it seemed unlikely! No the buggy reptiles or perhaps reptilian bugs had an agenda like everyone else. Something the government know, but don’t want to tell us about, or something they have - as yet - failed to discover, and now their was the earthlings or whatever they called themselves, the future looked ever less certain and predictable. Used to be all they had to worry about was the machine head Xenon one group of angry aliens was more than enough.


From the angle of the viewing platform The Grim Reaper resting almost in plan view looked like a shinny metal insect resting on a fibrous rust coloured autumn leaf. At this distance she could just about make out the base shape of the fancy paint job repeated on the ships wings although the marking on the sides of the fuselage where hidden from view. She loathed and loved that vessel with equal passion. Loathed it because it always carried Garrin away, loved it because it brought him back again, and despite her own reservation of the risk of his ventures, because it was his pride and joy! From behind the glass Elaen watched the ship being hooked up to the tractor system staying until it had all but disappeared into a small currently depressurised, pressurised bay. Then she hurried off still slightly favouring her bruised ankle.


‘So this is ArgonForge’s fabled BIG 4’, noted the Discoverers late passenger, catching his heavily stuffed duffle bag and throwing it over his right shoulder.

‘Yep, Ravn, ArgonForge Four or AFC4 or as you say a few folks used to call it the BIG 4 back when complexes where still thin on the ground’, noted Garrin.

‘Sounds like you’ve been coming here a long time’, noted Ravn.

‘Not so long’, answered Garrin, ‘but I have a few connections here a few routes or perhaps I should say roots that bring me back around.’

‘Serious?’, asked the ex soldier.

‘Serious enough for me! You know how it is here in the big empty, when you make a connection it means something, something more than it does to the planet bound. I mean. Out here you are never guaranteed a tomorrow. You have to work at it!’

‘Hmmm, The Grim Reaper! You know don’t think I’ve ever been in a platoon without a doomsayer. Kind of makes me feel right at home.’

‘Yeah, thanks I think. I’m not all that negative though. Honestly my point is simple live it up. Appreciate what you’ve got, while watching out for the unexpected. He’s always there, but he’s a patient son of a Teladi personally I plan to make him wait the longest time. There’s always a tomorrow to settle that account.’

‘I’ll drink to that, speaking of which’, Ravn gestured vaguely.

‘Hey wait up and I’ll be glad to lead the way, pretty loose out here in The Fortune you can even get Space Fuel over the counter’, informed the Pilot.

‘Great, maybe this will be my kind of place after all’, beamed Ravn, ‘and to think I heard it was just all work’.

‘Oh trust me out here it is’, interjected a new slightly breathless female voice.

‘Oops busted already’, moaned Ravn, ‘putting his hands together for a set or imaginary cuffs, if you’re leading I promise to go quiet’.

‘You’ll be going with a thick lip’, smirked Garrin, ‘if you keep making argnu eyes like that at my girl’.

‘Damn’, groaned Ravn, ‘double busted and I haven’t even got off the dock yet’.

‘We were just about to go for a jar’, noted Garrin.

‘Come on then boys’, suggested Elaen grabbing each of the men by an arm, ‘I think we could all use some kind of a drink but, one of you two had better have some coffee beans stashed in their bags or I’ll be very disappointed.’

‘No fear my sweet’, enthused Garrin, ‘knew it would be more than my life’s was worth if I forgot the beans. Especially after that urgent com call.’

Elaen smiled, ‘Its good to know our advanced satellites are good for something other than too late, early warnings.’

‘Yep with modern technology there is no escaping the long arm of your woman’, agreed Garrin.



‘Holy Argnu’, exclaimed Ravn, ‘now this is my sort of place.’

‘Welcome to The Junction, just don’t get to like it too much, not smart on our wages’, cautioned Elaen, ‘I usually only come here when my sugar daddy is paying’, she chortled.

‘Guess that would be me then’, groaned Garrin dramatically shaking his credit chip as if wrestling with a malfunction.

‘Hey nice unit’, grinned Ravn, ‘very tidy and I assume shock proof the way you’re treating it.’

‘In business it is necessary to keep up appearances’, Garrin laughed.

‘Yeah, like painting big spooky monsters on the side of your ship’, chuckled Elaen running her hands through her lover’s hair.
Sometimes Garrin thought Elaen was afraid that if she didn’t touch him regularly he would vanish like a mere Phantom of her desire. As to the expensive branded electronic credit chip it was one very few ostentations he indulged in. Largely he preferred to hide the true size of the credit surpluses in his bank accounts to all but those that needed to know.

‘Oh my’, muttered Ravn as a waitress shimmied over in a dazzling gown with bulges in all the right places, ‘So what’s your name?’

‘You can call me Shimoo’, replied the fit young woman, seeming to enjoy the attention.

‘Damn right I will’, replied Ravn, ‘I’m gonna be calling you all the time.’

‘Grunts’, Elaen rolled her eyes, ‘my apologies in advance, but you know how it is six months eating dirt on some deserted planet then…’

‘So what would you gentlemen like’, purred Shimoo.

Ravn stared, ‘You really have to ask?’

‘To drink’, she winked, ‘we only serve drinks and food here, don’t be fooled by the cheesy décor.’

‘Fuel us up’, replied Garrin, ‘I’m just back from a long haul and my tanks are empty. Here, I’m sure you know what to do with this for the lady’, he continued giving out a handful of pungent beans then decided to explain anyway, that would be coffee – um - just in case you thought I was trying to push some new designer drug’, he laughed.

‘Two Argon Tankers and an extra fresh coffee coming up’, Shimoo verified before slinking off.

‘Man that is real quality, that is. So what do you think of a guy like me, a girl like Shimoooooo’, lilted Ravn.

‘Not likely’, Garrin and Elaen replied in unison.

‘Paranidia, you two really are an item aren’t you. Hey, so what is it really like here. I hear Gregors bucking for a promotion and pushing the limits. Think that might even be why I got my new position, another heavy just in case things get a little heated.’

‘I hope not’, insisted Elaen, ‘Gregors a tough nut and a go getter but I think he knows how to keep the staff here motivated even at this level. Won’t be sorry to see him go but I think the lads know this push can’t last forever. Then even Gregor must know it will be make or break.’

‘Hmm’, questioned Garrin, ‘So what happens if he fails to measure up?’

‘I think he’ll still have to go. The man has made too many promises. He’s put himself out on a limb if he fails to fly he’s gonna fall’, surmised Elaen looking thoughtful.

‘That’s a little worrying’, noted Ravn, ‘guys like that don’t go down easy, they have a habit of dragging others with them!’

‘Shh here comes our hostess’, remarked Elaen, effecting an easy smile.

‘Two special Tankers for you fine men, and a black coffee for the constable, Bess says that’s how you like it.’

‘Straight up’, returned Elaen, ‘say you’re new here.’

‘Just got in on the bus’, noted Shimoo, ‘your hostess courtesy of Argon Prime.’

‘Odd choice’, stated Garrin.

‘I’m a poor archaeology student’, explained Shimoo, ‘ArgonForge are offering big bucks for Argon summer season job workers. They sell it as bit of an adventure, starry skies, credits in the bank that sort of thing. Done it before elsewhere it’s not so bad.’

‘Nothing compared to sticking your nose into abandoned sites of lost civilisations’, noted Ravn suddenly grim, ‘that can be a dangerous business. I’ve…’ he continued trailing off, ‘Lets just say I wouldn’t do that job for love nor money’, he confessed.

‘Well that was a real mood dampener’, cursed Garrin into a prolonged silence.

‘Hey forget it Shimoo, didn’t mean nothing’, apologised Ravn.

‘No doubt’, she replied a little ruffled, ‘anyway I’d better get back in case I’m needed.’

‘Sounds interesting’, said Elaen once the girl was out of casual eavesdropping distance.

‘Hey, best forget I said anything, truly it was a mistake, you know how it is.’

‘Sure official secrets and all that, you forget you said anything and I’ll forget I asked.’

‘For that we’ll all need a few more drinks’, agreed Garrin.

‘Yeah you boys burn it up. Guess you both could use a little R & R, when I finish this coffee I’ve got to get back.’

‘That’s a shame’, noted Ravn, ‘Guess I’ll see you at the office.’

Gulping down the last of the coffee Elaen noted, ‘yeah, I’ll see you both later, but you first eh Garrin, you know where to find me. Don’t get lost.’

‘No fear!’

‘Later’

‘Man are you the lucky son of a space happy Goner or what’, smirked Ravn, ‘now lets get those drinks, this rounds on me.’

‘Now if that isn’t an unusually sympathetic symphony to my ears I don’t know what is’, remarked Garrin sparkling, ‘play on, my good man, play on!’

Although he could easily have afforded to pay Garrin always liked to see others get their credits out. That way he knew they were friends rather than just opportunists. Talking to the ex soldier on the flight over he had taken an instant like to the man. So far his instincts told him the Argo was playing straight up.

He was sure Ravn had seen some pretty heavy stuff too, which didn’t surprise him. The real deal - it was the silences - rather than the words that gave it away. Garrin was used to ferrying military and ex military types it was surprising how often they employed independent couriers. Sometimes because they were off duty, other times because it drew less attention that way. He found most to be good clients that caused no fuss and were clean in their habits, an important distinction when you’re stuck together in a cramped cabin space for a prolonged period.

The request to collect Ravn had been relayed direct from AFC4 DC&C on behalf of the Central Security Liaison Desk. Recently Gregor and his team had been throwing a lot of work his way but this was the first job he had done directly invoiced to CSLD. That was the only thing that seemed a little off about Ravn the degree of urgency and importance put on his arrival. Still that was ArgonForge and Ravn’s business he just supplied a service. Besides all he wanted to do now was soak up some atmosphere, and a little, but not too much booze, while he waited for Elaen to finish her shift.


‘Welcome to AFC4 Central’, enthused Carl grasping Ravn hand in a vice like grip, ‘Glad to see a new face. I believe you gave yourself a little time to become familiar with some of our amenities yesterday! Working in The Fortune at AFC4 always had a few fringe benefits, but don’t be fooled we run a tight ship around here.’

‘So I’ve been told Commander that’s fine by me, in fact I prefer it that way’, returned Ravn, wondering if this was leading to a formal induction or a friendly lecture in local protocols.

‘Look I would prefer to skip the pep talk’, said Carl, ‘I just wanted to point out that I’ve seen your record, well up to C3 level anyway. You are more than qualified and able for this position. What we need are feet on the deck. We’ve already had bit of a mini population explosion lately with an increase in our central work force and support staff.

This facility is operating well above its base statistical efficiencies we’ve been running hot for quite a while. I’ve also just been informed of something new, really bad news for our operation, and something also likely to hit morale hard, so I’m really glad of the extra help and support!’

‘Seems the Khaak have struck again. This time it was Bala Gi’s Joy and capitol ships not just clusters’, explained the Commander, ‘Guess that explains the Navy presence here. Bit close for comfort. Ok as you know Bala is one of these so called Pirate Sectors, but there are a lot of legit Argon citizens working in there too. Seems many of those monkeys were smart enough to pack their bags and get out in time. Due to our relative size and location the Navy tacticians are forcing several shiploads of refugees on us.’

‘Look here is the real rub though Gregor was furious and since it will soon be common knowledge you might as well know the rest’, continued Carl nonetheless habitually checking out who else was in ear shot, ‘Gregor tried to pull an exemption, playing the importance of our production to the war effort card. It was a mistake, the first real blunder I’ve ever seen him make, but in this case maybe the only one needed. Word got back to old iron britches himself, and ArgonForge admin on Prime took a blasting from government reps. As they say, “bad news travels fast” Someone leaked the story to the media; Profit put before beleaguered population of war torn refugees, you get the drift.’

‘Paranidia, where is the big boss now’, queried Ravn.

‘Shooting across space with the fastest courier he could find’, informed Carl, ‘Guess he hopes that some face to face damage control can save his position plus secure all our bonuses, and potential promotions. The man’s a fighter but I don’t rate our chances. The planetary politicos are having a field day, they must have been looking for a chink in the off world corps armour, something to beat us into line with, and they seem to think they’ve found it.’

Great thought Ravn I knew that mental storm cloud of disquiet - in my head - this morning was more than just first day nerves and or the aftermath of too much liquid stimulation, but he only asked, ‘When are our new guests arriving?’

‘Pretty much imminently’, noted Carl rubbing the back of his neck, ‘the navy boys have been doing some heavy duty processing, shaking them down for intelligence, looking for wanted felons. Guess the result of their point of origin otherwise we would be up to our armpits in unwashed wide eyes already. Look I want you down in the docks helping to keep the situation smooth. We need some smart uniforms to bolster, keep an eye on, the volunteer civilian aid workers and general staff. I want these newcomers contained and controlled, not slinking into the shadows or encouraging more black market activity and or racketeering. Some people always see others misfortune as a opportunity, lets keep a grip on the breeding of station parasites. Once you get a serious infestation of lowlifes they can be damn hard to get rid of! At the same time we are now media target number one, so we have to be seen to be gentle, the smiling face of the caring Corp!’

‘Wonderful’

‘It could be worse. I’m teaming you up with your new found buddy Lt. Constable Elaen I don’t want anybody wandering around on their lonesome anymore. I’m not convinced Navy Intelligence’, he smirked, ‘will have weeded out everyone with a pirate affiliation. Elaen knows the territory and has a woman’s touch so I want you to follow her lead. That means no excessive jar head manoeuvres. She ought to be waiting in Central Main Reception so shuffle your butt on over there, and good luck!’

‘Thanks Central Reception it is then’, noted Ravn, ‘ah, I know you said softly, soft but if we are talking crowds of jokers shouldn’t I get a stick?’

‘Definitely not, use your head I don’t want those civilians to smell their potential for becoming a mob. Sticks can be a red flag to a bull. In my experience they can prejudice and limit your options’, lectured the Commander.

‘Fine’, replied Ravn, thinking in an emergency that just leaves the low velocity slug gun then.