Papers Please
Posted on Wed Nov 6th, 2019 @ 2:00pm by Commanding Officer Mickey Serendipity & Pilot Allegra Jennings & Executive Officer Kenneth McTigue & Comm Tech Wulf Edevane
Mission:
The Forgotten Arm
Location: The Tross' ramp
Timeline: Eros Incident T-minus 18 Hours
Ken threw on his nice crew jacket. He had exchanged his overalls for some surprisingly flattering jeans, well not real denim but close enough. His t-shirt was freshly laundered, it was an Oritam United Food Group t-shirt. He glanced at his terminal before putting it in his pocket. Just over 30k Ceres script, which was well-liked on Eros, in his account, a hankering for a good steak and maybe even some proper whisky. All these thoughts filled his mind as he idly checked the small of his back, and confirmed the presence of his pistol. At his feet rested a small duffle with a few changes of clothes.
Not that it happened often, Allegra still had the XO's warning rolling about in her head. Things had seemed to have gotten shifty as of late and while she didn't quite go prancing about declaring herself a Martian, she knew she was also bound to stand about among Belters. She'd not packed anything MARS like in her travel kit, or on her, but there were some things that one just couldn't hide. Her accent being one of those things, and considering she liked to hear herself talk? Yeah, this was going to be a grand adventure. A few drinks with some of her crew-mates and then hiding away in the hotel sounded the best thing. Maybe there was something spa-like or girly she could get into and pretend to be a girl for a few days.
She clunked down the ramp, travel kit slung over her shoulder and her jacket zipped up far enough to not look too conspicuous. Allegra shook her head as she joined Ken, "Never leave home without it?"
"You know how you feel naked without your terminal on you?" Ken asked as he zipped up his jacket.
Green eyes cast a sideways glance in his direction, point made. "You gotta point there, old man." Not that he was that old. Certainly wasn't father-figure type old, but that didn't stop the teasing words from rolling off her lips. Allegra hitched the kit bag up further on her shoulder.
"We're on shore leave, you can leave the bickering in your bunks you know?" Mickey climbed out of the 'Tross's docking hatch and onto the deck of Eros Station. He looked around, noting the smart paint walls that were losing IQ points with every bit of graffiti it couldn't cover-up. Nothing to blatantly OPA, but the one that stood out was a printed spray-on of a bearded mans face with the words 'Remember The Cant!'.
Why did that feel like such a portent to Mickey.
"Hold up!" A Goon Squad, because that's what they looked like, walked up to the departing crew of the
"Easy fella's, already had the Dockmaster's folks check the ship for mould spores and leaks, got the foil seals to prove it," Mickey said in the easy likeable tone of voice all XO's got trained in it seemed.
"Weapons check, we ain't no medico's tumang. Policy of the CPM, no one 'llowed on Station with a piece who ain't riding herd on all lowda," said lead Goon. He had Facial Scar No3, with a tattoo of the Southern Cross dotted up his neck in glittering black studs. Mickey frowned, recognising the gang mark for the Golden Bao Society. Soto had mentioned about the CPM thugs from the unloading of the Protogen crates, and the official info dump from the station had put CPM as their security contractor.
Maybe CPM was doing a line of career redemptions with one of the prison barge operators?
"We're just here on shore leave, not here to cause trouble. Scan away," Mickey raised his arms. One of the thugs at the back, this one sporting a topical ill mended broken nose, took a chunky weapon scanner out of his pocket. Held out the thing checked magnetics, mild X-rays, even body language to pick out weapons. Some of the higher-end models could even sniff out the gene jiggered bio coding of poison-tipped blades. This one looked like it had been used repeatedly in a handball tournament and then taped back together.
"He's clean," Broken Nose told Southern Cross, who scowled like a kid told he wasn't getting candy. "Who's next?"
Ken stepped forward, smiled casually, and nodded. "Let's get this over with then. I'm next mate." and he stretched his arms out a little to show his hands were empty.
Broken Nose held up the scanner and began to it work slowly up and down, and then walked around Ken as the big engineer didn't turn on the spot.
"Oritam make the good kibble kai?" Southern Cross said with a wry grin, nodding at Ken's shirt. "You Earther's eat a mass of that to grow'em bones big and strong eh?"
This got a chuckle out of the two spare goons behind Southern Cross. A chuckle that seemed to catch as the handheld weapon scanner began to buzz angrily. Suddenly there was a lot going on all at once. Both goon's had their riot guns up pointed at Ken's chest. If they were loaded with stun rounds, then Ken and everyone in a five-meter radius would be getting a face full of bromine laced sedative. If it was loaded with a nice, safe, plastic slug than Ken would get a new vent in his chest.
And if they were idiots and loaded it anything like metal or flechettes, then the folks behind Ken and the airlock docking collar would get shredded.
A familiar calm fell over Ken's face. Something in his mind had clicked over in his mind. He rolled his shoulders ever so slightly under his jacket, his hands dropped just that little bit more down to his waist. His instincts were taking over, and he was gearing for violence.
"HEY!" Mickey said, using the XO 'Don't-Make-Me-Come-Over-There' voice he'd won in a pack of instant noodles. He tried to Step around Ken to interpose himself with the riot guns. "There is no problem here!"
Ken's conscious mind snapped back at Mickey's voice. His narrowed eyes opened wider again, and his casual smile turned somewhat dopey.
"The Taker's got a HK!" Broken Nose growled. "Scanner got the chemical tag."
"Scanner's glitched," Mickey growled, looking over at Ken. "Right? Because bringing a gun to a casino is a bad idea."
"Ah shit man. I forgot I had that there." He said in a thoroughly embarrassed voice. "You know how us Earthers are, small cocks so we compensate by carrying a big gun." and he chuckled. "Look, are we cool if I leave on board?"
There might have been a moment somewhere within all of that where you might have found comedy. A little nugget of it, hidden in a veil of pure unmolested disaster. The four gangsters dressing up as cops for Halloween, the XO standing in harm's way, the Earth with that corn hole fed 'aw shucks I'll pull your head off' grin, and the Martian doing the Face Of Mars bit to keep the giggles in.
"Wulf!" Mickey shouted over his shoulder without breaking eye contact. "Now would be a really shitty time for you to poke your head up out of the docking collar."
He'd been walking real slow, just happy to be able to put feet on the ground without the big magnetic boots on and taking a few minutes to simply enjoy that soft-soled feeling of his comfy old sneakers. Duffle over the shoulder of his casual jacket, Wulf froze in place when he heard Mickey's voice. That was code for - Ken's carrying a concealed weapon and security have noticed - if he wasn't mistaken. So, he hung back a moment, spent a few seconds checking his terminal and waited for an entrance cue.
Mickey returned his attention to Southern Cross. "My guy asked a question, we okay to stow it on the ship?"
Cog's, pulleys, and a diabetic hamster began to do the rounds in the thugs head. He'd lost some face, and whilst the Earther had used the small cock bit to make fun of himself. But Southern Cross had done time on a Cerberus Barge. 5-year stint for water theft on Ceres Station. Inside the barge, you learned to anticipate the bad guys from the bad guys. The Taker was a bad guy.
"Nah good," Southern Cross said, his grin turning wicked. "Confiscation. Call it like a tax on the stupid eh?"
He held out his tatted hand, the four-pointed compass etched into his palm.
A long moment of calculation passed behind Ken's eyes. He then slowly reached behind his back and pulled out the rather nice HK he had holstered there. He pressed the magazine release and tossed the ejected magazine into the ship. He then cleared the slide and tossed that round behind him as well. Ken then smacked it into the guard's hand with the same embarrassed smile, though some hardness had formed in his eyes. "There you go."
Southern Cross took the HK, stepping back a bit to hold it fully in one hand, testing the weight. He nodded, grinning at the prize and slipped it into his belt.
"CPM Security thank you for your patience," he tilted his head to one side. "Next up! You two, off to the side."
"Ken, you heard the nice man, off to the side with me okay?" Mickey said, stepping to one side as Broken Nose raised the scanner towards Allegra. "Look we got another guy down about to come up. Wulf, you want to come up nice and slow like okay?"
Allegra wasn't quite sure if Ken's actions were going to instigate the situation further or if the obvious goons were going to let such a thing slide. Much like the way the magazine slid. And the the round. Her fit of laughter had transitioned into a shake of her head. But she knew to keep her mouth shut as she stepped forward, bag falling to land with a soft thump at her feet. She even played nice and held her arms up, palms upward and turned a little turn, gaze landing briefly on Wulf before she completed the circle. This was of course bullshit, but if it got her closer to the week off, she could play nice.
Wulf nodded, despite the fact Mickey couldn't see him yet. He quietly picked up Ken's slide and mag, put them safely to one side, and stepped out into the open with hands held high and wide. In his right, his own terminal, in his left, nothing at all. As Wulf strolled quietly into the mix of trouble, the CPM Goons' hand terminals immediately pinged with a message that their owner's presence was urgently required at a brawl in the nearest lap dancing bar to break up a naked catfight.
Broken Nose brought the hand scanner up to work it over Wulf, but the two goons who had remained stoic and load-bearing suddenly because animated in conversation. Portuguese, Spanish, or something from the Latin quarter of Earth spoke with varying degrees of exuberance. So much of this was undiluted gusto that the pair turned and headed back to the cart, seeming to urge Southern Cross and Broken Nose to join them.
Which they did, without passing on stern threats or citations. Eros really had changed in the time they'd been away when a cop didn't try to hand out a ticket. Mickey watched the cart with the four hollering thugs in riot gear hum to life and roll off into the anti spinward tunnel.
"That...was interesting," the XO said, turning with his hand on his hips and shook his head. "Let's hope that's the malf' for this shore leave. Let's take the spinward tunnel, tram station should just be up the way. Ken, you are buying the first two rounds on account of your poor choice in clothing accessories."
He stepped close to Wulf, and gave him a gently slug in the shoulder.
"Nice work with the terminal hack by the way," he said with a smile. "Of course, when they get to wherever they're going to find they've been punked, they are going to remember us. So you're getting the third round as a valuable learning experience. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only one of us who did right by the universe was Allegra. So gold stars."
He then stepped back to the docking port and then walked slowly back to where they were gathered.
"5 feet." Mickey Serendipity sighed. "We made it five feet until something happened."
