Succulent Rat-Killing Tar

Posted on Wed Nov 13th, 2019 @ 8:08am by Passenger Kol Wescott-Fitzgerald & Client The Narrator

Mission: The Forgotten Arm
Location: The Open Visor, Dock Levels, Eros Station
Timeline: 6 months before the Eros Incident.

The air was blue with pipe smoke.

Heavy-duty air scrubbers, the sorts used in industrial shops that had to have a human-rated atmosphere, laboured tirelessly sucking it out and blowing it back in so the CO2 content didn't trip the station's alarms. Not that that had stopped one of the Open Visor's staff from quickly removing the zip lock bag taped over the vent for the alarm when Kol walked in. Maybe it was the way he walked, the stance of his shoulders. Or maybe Jack had comm'd a friend down at the bar to let them know an Earther with a badge was incoming.

Might have been his aftershave. Though in the thick, muggy atmosphere of the Open Visor it would be hard to tell. What illumination was provided came from bioengineered lichens, that gave the place a fae quality to it like something out of a fever dream. Little booths were hidden in the heavy chemical smoke, illuminated by softly glowing blue patches that grew in fits and starts.

A patron, on the way out, bumped into Kol with the wide dilated eyes of a hooka user, his mind riding high on whatever lab tweaked THC cocktail was popular on Eros's lower-income bracket.

"Change!" the wiry Belter said in a voice that went from a shriek to a whisper. He patted Kol on the shoulder, like a brother in arms. "Gonna drop some rock's on those Inner's yeah? For all beltalowda! Teach'em ta putting the price of'de aqua up for the brotha's on Pallas yeah?"

He nodded to himself, agreeing with the sentiment as he wandered off to face reality from behind an impressive chemically fortified bunker.

Kol kept tight-lipped, he agreed that the price hike for water was disappointing, but he hardly accepted that the death of millions of innocence was the right kind of recompense. Perhaps it was just a base human trait though, to share a disdain for all people other, not just the ones causing harm. Kol noted a handful of code violations as he navigated his way towards the bar but paid them no mind. If Sullivan had ignored them it'd do him no favours to make a point.

Reaching the bar he caught the attention of the nearest bartender and waited until he came to him before ordering a neat whisky. As he waited for it to be prepared he took some time to see if he could spot Sullivan for himself, but he had no idea where to begin. There were a couple of Earthers in the bar, likely workers from one of the many vessels that docked with the station; it didn't do him any favours.

Giving up, he turned to face the bartender, "You wouldn't happen to know a Sullivan?" he asked awkwardly, painfully aware of how 'inner' he sounded. He had his terminal our ready to make the payment, he expected he'd have to pay for more than the whisky.

The bartender said nothing. Red rimmed eyes looked out of parchment skinned eyebrows. He reached above his head, took a bottle off the shelf and placed it on the laminated wood finished bar top. He then pointed towards the back of the bar, where the smoke seemed to be thickest.

As if on cue a cheery, jubilant laugh arose from the lotus blossom fog bank. It rolled around the empty bar, heavy with the gravity of a distant blue dot.

The booth at the very back sat under an air vent with an old and smoke-stained 'Out Of Order' sign on it. The person in the booth was similarly smoke stained. If there had been more gravity his hair would have been quiffed, his jaw solid, and his belly a little potted. But in Eros's 1/3 of earth standard, he just looked saggy, like a partially deflated balloon.

A balloon trying to reinflate itself as a man called Sullivan because his UNIB badge was out on the table like a reserved sign, drew in a deep breath from the tables hooka. The device bubbles and chuckled to itself, and then Sullivan leaned back and let out a ghostly stream of blue-grey smoke.

It was only as the fresh smoke thinned that his once bright and now dull hazel eyes looked onto Kol, and then on the Ganymede Red Label in his hand.

"...didn't know they did table service..." Sullivan said, sounding a little dazed.

Kol scoffed as before downing the drink and sitting across the booth from his colleague, "It isn't, you've had enough" he quipped as he picked up the other agents badge, "and this shouldn't be on your person when you're out on the lash" he critiqued with glance of disdain sent Sully's way. The man before him triggered him significantly more than the cheers of the belter he'd encountered on the way in. Jobs were like diamonds in the rough back on earth, a significant portion of the society would never even get close to having one, it was frustrating watching the man waste it.

It didn't take long for before the whisky took effect and calmed Kol's nerves, "Senior Special Agent Wescott-Fitzgerald, white-collar" he introduced, "looks like we are set to be partners for a while" he said, his exhaustion catching up to him. He hadn't even been to his apartment since arriving. Straight to the office, straight to Sullivan, straight to work. His usual mode of operation.

If you looked closely at Sullivan, or Speical Agent Sullivan O'Toole according to the holofoil on his badge, you'd actually see the passage of that information from one neuron to the next. Chemical signals would fire, milliamps were cross the span of a micron in a picosecond...and then give the next neuron a nudge like a kid on stage for a spelling bee. But eventually, enough of the message got through that the checksum figures could piece together the parts that wandered off into the unknown.

"s'That so?" Sully said, eye's clearing as the cold air of reality swept away a little of the foggy daze he was in. "Because, last I checked in with the folks back home, they didn't send people out here. They exile'em good and proper. s'Being a keen investigator and all, I got me a feeling you're gonna be a Senior Agent here until the end of days. Patchamama's favourite son, first through the airlock to the great beyond when She comes to wipe out the Corporation's."

He brought the hooka pipe up to his lips again, stained blue by whatever spice he was inhaling, and smiled beatifically.

"Ya gonna stand there like Timmy The Detector, or you gonna sit down and open that bottle of Ganymede Red?" he asked laconically.

"Sure," Kol said as he took a seat, "stop inhaling that shit and you'll get your drink too," Kol said as he went about sitting then pour two generous drinks for the pair. Sully's words had been a slap in the face but true. He wasn't likely to leave Eros again if he wanted to keep his job. Even if he completed the assignment he'd been sent with he expected he'd be ordered to stay where he was. They'd use the growing unrest.

All things considered, what was he even doing? he thought. The realisation of his circumstance was hard enough for him to swallow that he decided the only thing that would wash it down was the whisky. The work could wait.

"This 'shit', is the finest lab grown cannabinoid on Eros station. Excellent high, long-duration burn, minimal come down and few side effects. If you want to talk about shit that's we could discuss the finer points of tetrameth or jiggle gas. Now that stuff'll kill you nasty if you ride it wrong," Sully said in the tone of voice an expert. He held up the pipe, as though offering a firstborn to a vengeful god. He then turned the pipe in his hand and pointed its business end at Kol.

"You fucked up kid to be out here," he said after a second. "Now me, I know what I did to get out here. But you? I look at you and I see a solid middle manager. Family in good standing, middle of the road credit score. Bet your grade's never meant you had to go into the Vocational Lottery to get off Basic Living. You ever have a Basic Living Supplement? Damn near had a religious conversion the day I had real meat. Shat water for a week after I had a belly full of real calories. So before you come down from the ivory rocket ship that brought you to Space Station Ass End Of Nowhere and talk down to me about how I decide to waste the United Nations Investigatory Bureau budgetary funds here..."

He put the pipe back into the hooka, and leaned back, arms crossed over his chest.

"You can leave. Go up two levels and take the tram the Second Ward, place called the Blue Flacon. I hear there's a skin joint there that'll pay good money for you to fuck yourself," he spat.

Kol rolled his eyes at Sully's tirade, grabbing himself a refill as he waited for the other man to run out of gas. He couldn't imagine why he hadn't been hauled out on his ass by the UN yet. Sure, he'd been exiled, but to carry on like this was just disrespectful to everything Kol had worked hard for, "First of all, mate, don't presume to know me; you have no idea what you're talking about" he started after a measured sip of his drink.

"I'm not some silver-spooned brat who had everything had to him. My parent's made sure we counted our blessings and made sure we knew we had to work for everything we wanted. I'm the third generation when it comes to the UNIB, it wasn't just my job that I lost when I was 'exiled', I had to give up my entire family to boot" he admitted his words cold. He had no idea when he'd next see any of them, especially his twin. Not that his parents would have time for him, he'd never seen his dad so disappointed. Their last night together was tumultuous and had resulted on Kol being kicked out of his parent's house. They hadn't spoken to since.

"As for why I'm here? Got a case pointing to a possible human trafficking ring, kids up and vanishing through-out the system. Got a lead, tried to follow procedure and was stonewalled, apparently wasn't worth my time" He shrugged, his expression bitter, "I couldn't drop it though, pushed a little too hard and got a transmission telling me I'd be leaving for Eros to investigate some radical transmissions we intercepted between an inner and a suspected OPA operative", what frustrated him the most is that they could have simply coordinated with Sully and dealt with the case remotely. It stung even more that they hadn't even bothered to come up with a decent cover.

"So," he said, knocking back the rest of his drink, "before you go off on one at someone about something you know shit about, get your facts right" he finished, putting the glass down then sitting back into the booth, his arms crossed defiantly but face a picture of exhaustion.

Sully smiled, took his glass and knocked it back.

"So there is a little fire in there, eh kid? Good to know," he said, holding out his glass. "And now that we have that out of the way, you refill my glass."

He gave it a little wiggle when it wasn't forthcoming.

"Look, kid, this is the end of your career. If there is a point of light most distant from all that is important, then it is Eros Station. Sure maybe a hundred years ago it might not have been the case. Back then Boeing and Mitsubishi were running the shipyards here, spinning out new ore prospectors and colony barges for the push out to Jupiter and Saturn. But now? Those docks only add mass to the station, they've not worked a hull over for anything other than resource reclamation in the last twenty," he explained tiredly. "Nothing happens on Eros Station. The crime is borderline bush league, even the OPA cell in the docks is there more to wave the flag than do anything nefarious. And Earth and Mars are like rich parents pushing an unwanted child back and forth between summer homes. Unlike Ceres Station, if the Duster's landed a battleships's worth of MMC on the docks, Earth would send a strongly worded letter and call it a done deal. Cheaper that way."

The glass wiggled again.

"What am I to do then? Give up and spend days drinking myself silly?" Kol asked dejectedly, acknowledging the truth in what Sully had been trying to get through to him, "I've been living for this for that long I'm actually clueless as to what I should do next" he admitted, finally filling the pairs glasses a little bit more than he had the previous times.

"S'not so bad once you get used to it. Six months from now, hell who knows..." Sully took his drink maybe. "Maybe whoever you pissed off will have forgotten about you? Put in a transfer request then, see what happens. Or you could always go over to our counterparts in Martain Congressional INvestigatory Directorate. Turn your coat, work for the real go-getters of the system."

Sully rolled his glass around, letting the amber liquid coat the inside.

"Way I see it, you could do worse. At least the Martians have a goal other than doing the same shit day after day and expecting different results," he then took the glass and shot it back with a grimace. 'Only reason I don't do it is because...well then who'd keep this place open? I'm a pillar of the local h'conomy."

"I doubt going over to the MCIB would win me any favours back home," Kol weighed in, "I'd rather like the opportunity to see my family again" he added. If not his parents, at least his brother. He spun the contents of his glass absently for a moment as he wondered about what Thomas was doing, probably taking up temp work aboard some questionable freighter. He always was the one that had the adventurous streak.

"Guess, you better get used to the company" Kol accepted, tilting his glass Sully's way in order to raise a toast.

"That's the spirit," he grinned and tinked his glass against Kol's.