“You really screwed it, didn’t you, skip?” Chucho the mechanic said. Commander Neulen replied with a dirty look. “Well,” Chucho continued, “I thought it was pretty funny. Bad timing, and the delivery could have been better, but overall a solid joke. Very you. Shows your trademark deficiency in judgement.”
Neulen turned in his seat to face the mechanic. “Hired you, didn’t I?”
“You sure did. Which kind of proves my point.”
But Chucho was right. Perhaps a squadron meeting in which plans of expansion and control were being discussed was not the best time to ask “are we the baddies?”. Instead of chuckles he got a lesson in the ethics of governance in the age of witch space. But sometimes the joke has to be made and damn the consequences.
And the consequences were damned indeed. That little joke got him the Hau Ku job.
It was even more painful as he brought in Geier el Nahual, his ship, into Stone Station. It was lush. A verdant Orbis Starport all clean and shiny. A tourism economy, he could only imagine the kind of food he would be missing out on.
Normally visiting that kind of place would be a delicious, if expensive, experience. But this time he went in dirty. He wasn’t Cmdr Neulen, Ranger of the Corvus Intelligence Group. He wasn’t even an upstanding (or even just standing) Imperial citizen. He was just some roaming spacer with a mediocre letter of employment, lovingly penned by the boss man Cmdr Erinir, tasked with assisting the 104th Humanity Defense Force.
The person in charge, Colonel Jeromy Roth, immediately took a dislike to Neulen and his crew. He had been told to hire them and put them to work against his will (thanks again Erinir and your insidious machinations). And Neulen’s cover story didn’t help, either. He was supposed to have a plain, uninteresting, and just slightly undesirable record. Another snarky comment, and Neulen and crew found themselves as couriers, ferrying poll data and other info to neighbouring systems. This was key in a larger plan devised by CVIG to affect local elections.
The pay, to say the least, was abysmal. His pride, if he could ever find the starport he left it at, would be deeply hurt. But this is what working for CVIG is like. It even has Intelligence right there in the title.
“Hey cap,” Chucho said, leaning back on the remarkably comfortable seat at the Dresdener. Even the dive bars at Stone Starport were classy. “Did you ask Roth if maybe we could do a commodity transport mission? We have all this cargo hold, there’s surely something we can source to this place, isn’t there? I’m sure you can convince him.”
“I tried. He said sure, he had about 85 tonnes of biowaste he wanted delivered to Colonia. And you know what? He actually did. Offered to pay about 5 million credits for it, too.”
“5 million credits to get rid of you?”
“I may have… made a joke.”
“Oh no, come on captain, please tell me you didn’t.”
“The crooked Coriollis one.”
“No,” Chucho gasped. “Not the crooked Coriollis one. What were you thinking?”
“It’s a good joke! I am standing by it, it should have broken the ice, it was appropriate, even.”
“Neulen, that joke is never funny, and never appropriate in any point in the known bubble.”
“You just don’t have the emotional intelligence to get it.”
“Emotional? Intelligence? You want me to walk out an airlock, is that what you want?”
“Anyway, he did say that he got word from above. We are done ferrying data. We have a new job. But you’re not going to like it.”
Chucho looked concerned. He knew that look in Neulen’s eye. They had been flying together long enough to know. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me this is another joke.”
Neulen only asserted. The Dresdener was tactfully dark, grubby in a deliberate manner, decorated in a way that you could tell the designer had seen a few dirty station cantinas and recreated a hygienic and tasteful representation for a more refined clientele. He hoped the illusion was not lost on Chucho and would be spared the bar brawl.
It worked. Instead, there was a loud thud as Chucho’s forehead connected with the table in utter defeat, knocking over a half finished glass of a tasty and overpriced ale.
Geier el Nahual, his pride and joy, the Krait MkII he had been working on for too long now, was going to be turned into a space taxi.
Neulen turned in his seat to face the mechanic. “Hired you, didn’t I?”
“You sure did. Which kind of proves my point.”
But Chucho was right. Perhaps a squadron meeting in which plans of expansion and control were being discussed was not the best time to ask “are we the baddies?”. Instead of chuckles he got a lesson in the ethics of governance in the age of witch space. But sometimes the joke has to be made and damn the consequences.
And the consequences were damned indeed. That little joke got him the Hau Ku job.
It was even more painful as he brought in Geier el Nahual, his ship, into Stone Station. It was lush. A verdant Orbis Starport all clean and shiny. A tourism economy, he could only imagine the kind of food he would be missing out on.
Normally visiting that kind of place would be a delicious, if expensive, experience. But this time he went in dirty. He wasn’t Cmdr Neulen, Ranger of the Corvus Intelligence Group. He wasn’t even an upstanding (or even just standing) Imperial citizen. He was just some roaming spacer with a mediocre letter of employment, lovingly penned by the boss man Cmdr Erinir, tasked with assisting the 104th Humanity Defense Force.
The person in charge, Colonel Jeromy Roth, immediately took a dislike to Neulen and his crew. He had been told to hire them and put them to work against his will (thanks again Erinir and your insidious machinations). And Neulen’s cover story didn’t help, either. He was supposed to have a plain, uninteresting, and just slightly undesirable record. Another snarky comment, and Neulen and crew found themselves as couriers, ferrying poll data and other info to neighbouring systems. This was key in a larger plan devised by CVIG to affect local elections.
The pay, to say the least, was abysmal. His pride, if he could ever find the starport he left it at, would be deeply hurt. But this is what working for CVIG is like. It even has Intelligence right there in the title.
“Hey cap,” Chucho said, leaning back on the remarkably comfortable seat at the Dresdener. Even the dive bars at Stone Starport were classy. “Did you ask Roth if maybe we could do a commodity transport mission? We have all this cargo hold, there’s surely something we can source to this place, isn’t there? I’m sure you can convince him.”
“I tried. He said sure, he had about 85 tonnes of biowaste he wanted delivered to Colonia. And you know what? He actually did. Offered to pay about 5 million credits for it, too.”
“5 million credits to get rid of you?”
“I may have… made a joke.”
“Oh no, come on captain, please tell me you didn’t.”
“The crooked Coriollis one.”
“No,” Chucho gasped. “Not the crooked Coriollis one. What were you thinking?”
“It’s a good joke! I am standing by it, it should have broken the ice, it was appropriate, even.”
“Neulen, that joke is never funny, and never appropriate in any point in the known bubble.”
“You just don’t have the emotional intelligence to get it.”
“Emotional? Intelligence? You want me to walk out an airlock, is that what you want?”
“Anyway, he did say that he got word from above. We are done ferrying data. We have a new job. But you’re not going to like it.”
Chucho looked concerned. He knew that look in Neulen’s eye. They had been flying together long enough to know. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me this is another joke.”
Neulen only asserted. The Dresdener was tactfully dark, grubby in a deliberate manner, decorated in a way that you could tell the designer had seen a few dirty station cantinas and recreated a hygienic and tasteful representation for a more refined clientele. He hoped the illusion was not lost on Chucho and would be spared the bar brawl.
It worked. Instead, there was a loud thud as Chucho’s forehead connected with the table in utter defeat, knocking over a half finished glass of a tasty and overpriced ale.
Geier el Nahual, his pride and joy, the Krait MkII he had been working on for too long now, was going to be turned into a space taxi.