From Darkness

[l3wt]

ARLAND

The planet Hamburg was a decidedly dreary place, even at its warmest and most accommodating.

Its primary spaceport was set in the equatorial zone, which in the end did not count for much more than the fact that there wasn't much snow, at least.

Rain and hail, on the other hand, dominated the skies, which were steel-gray during the daylight hours, and a stygian black at night. And amongst the many people hurrying along from place to place at this particular spaceport, pulling thick overcoats around them and trying their level best to ignore the cold and sticking to lit streets was a particular Bretonian mercenary.

James Arland was, all things considered, reasonably happy. How could he not be, when today's work was in essence a long pub crawl which functioned as a good excuse to scrutinize the spacer talent that came through this port? He couldn't drink too much, he realized, if he was to be in shape to negotiate with potential partners in crime, but the hour was growing late, and he would have to put an end to the search soon.

One final pub, he decided. He'd sit there, drink in hand, and listen for an hour or two to conversations. The AI he and his partner Lisa Jaeger had built for themselves, JADE, would scour databases for records on names he picked up in conversation, or faces he could get pictures of, if he was in doubt.

So far nobody had fit the bill. Yet he would keep watch a little longer, he considered himself dutiful enough to keep on drinking for at least another few hours. He spotted a suitable location a few steps later – what looked to be a reasonably classy establishment and fairly full as well, based on what James could see through the foggy windows. The sign above the door – weathered and made of actual wood, James noted – read "Unsagbar". It would do just fine.

James stepped inside, immediately feeling the warmth provided by the place’s climate control system. He selected a seat, ordered a beer, and immediately started overhearing bits of conversation from nearby tables. He closed his eyes and listened closely for tell-tale phrases.

"You'll never get Lex out on a job - you know that, Tanya," a man said. "He doesn't give a damn about anything that's not aboard Wayfarer."

His companion, a woman, laughed. "Oh really? What if we raid a vodka distillery?"

James perked up upon hearing the word "job." Sipping his beer, he snuck a glance at the two speakers out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge their general shape, body language and demeanor. They were just across the aisle and behind him.

The man sat back, his voice carrying to James again. He seemed tall, with striking blue eyes and tousled dark hair. "The kid wouldn't let him! We'd still be on Honshu, otherwise." He spoke with a relaxed yet authoritative tone, and his voice carried a subtle drawl that James figured originated from somewhere in Liberty.

His companion, the woman, laughed again in a soft, melodic chuckle. "That's right; he got us out of there, didn't he? Blasted right through them without a care in the world." Her voice was soft Libertonian, with a sophisticated accent. Glancing at her, James saw that she was fairly small, with frosty blue eyes. Her hair was close to black, as far as James could determine in the dim light. She sat ramrod straight and moved her hands with mechanical precision that spoke of previous military experience.

James nodded to himself, deciding this was worth pursuing. He signaled the barkeep for another couple of beers. Once they were in his hands, he brought those and his own beer over to the speakers’ table, putting on a polite, confident smile.

"Mind if I sit?" he began.

He sat down before they could respond.

"I couldn't help but overhear, and now I'm wondering if the two of you can't help me drink these beers, and maybe tell me the story of what happened on Honshu."

The woman’s face shifted as she glared at the sudden intrusion. She looked about ready to stand and throw a challenge when the man placed a hand on her shoulder. He shot James a searching look, and then nodded calmly.

"Hello, friend. Name's Rob Shaw. This here is Tanya. And you are...?" He sat quietly, expecting an answer.

The tall Bretonian kept up the smile, unfazed by the reaction. Seeing as how Rob was seemingly the more diplomatically inclined, he decided to focus on him.

"I'm James Arland. Pleasure to meet you both. I'm terribly sorry about the intrusion, I meant no harm... and if you want me to leave, I'll leave. But I'd ask that you humor me for a moment, since you seem like the kind of people I might want to get to know. The kind that get things done."

Rob's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and then he smiled magnanimously. "Why Tanya, I believe this man wants to hire us," he said, his tone now decidedly more hushed.

Tanya nodded silently. She still didn’t look comfortable with James’ presence.

Rob continued. "Please, James, tell me more. Whom do you represent?" The man finished his beer, reaching for one of the ones James had brought.

James' smile grew another centimeter before it faded and he adopted a sterner expression, as the officer within him emerged. He too spoke more quietly now, for this was not a conversation to be overheard. The tone was level and carefully modulated - he wanted to make sure he had their attention every step of the way.

"I realize this a rather... impromptu job offer, so please bear with me. I do not represent anyone - I'm freelance like I presume you are. I do, however, have a line on an urgent Rheinland Military logistical demand for this particular system. Munitions, sensor grid tech, construction materials – that sort of thing.

I also have good intel that in less than twenty-four hours, a heavy cargo freighter will be arriving here from outside of Rheinland to supply it. They've not yet sealed the deal with the Military."

He leaned forward. "A associate of mine and I intend to hijack this vessel and claim the deal for ourselves. The plan and the equipment is already prepared, all I need are a few more people who can keep their cool in a gunfight. You don't want to hear more, I'll take my drink and go. If you're interested... then we can talk details.”

Rob paused for a moment, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "Well, it sounds promising. Pardon us for a moment."

He turned to Tanya, and in a practiced manner they scooted closer together, leaned their heads in, and began whispering. A fairly long conversation seemed to play out, but James could not hear more than a word or two.

Finally, Rob turned back to James. "Very well, forgive our caution but this all seems a touch... suspicious." His eyes were steely, but he nodded. "Color us interested, at least. What, precisely, are you looking for us to do?"

James smiled slightly. "Very well. Here's what's going to happen." He took a paper napkin and fished a pen out of a pocket.

Then, he began to outline, with uncanny precision, the layout of a Gull-class cargo transport. Or more accurately, the deck containing the main airlock, through which they'd board the ship.

"Assuming a fireteam-size force taking the ship, we'd go about it like this. Mind, we have to do all of it with a great amount of speed and violence of action, since the less time the crew has to respond, the better."

He then proceeded to carefully explain how the assault would work, going through approaches, firing positions and all the other minutiae of a treacherous close quarters scenario. Until his finger reached something he'd labeled as life support.

"...Here we have some options unique to spaceships. We could try and cut life support entirely, but we'd all need personal oxygen supplies to do that. And they might be able to override anything we do down there from the bridge, unless I just bring tear gas grenades and flood the vents with them…”

He paused, looking up at them. “Do I have to prove my point further? If so, I'll need more napkins."

Both Rob and Tanya looked back at him with obvious surprise in their eyes. "Okay, you've made your point. This is not the time to go through all the minute details, but I believe I understand what you're asking for," Rob said.

Tanya pursed her lips, finally speaking. "The Military will pay well for this, sounds like. We're going to want a fair share of the take."

Rob nodded. "Me, Tanya here, and my man Kouta should be all the support you'll need, assuming your partner sets things up as you've described. For the three of us, work like this, we usually charge..." he hesitated, glancing at Tanya for confirmation, "about a million credits."

James calculated the risk of saying done deal. The haul was probably worth a lot more, but arguing a percentage basis might be more trouble than was worthwhile.

"Sounds good, Mister Shaw, I look forward to working with you. Introduce me to the rest of your crew, I'll drag Lisa out of her cave, and we'll all be a bit richer before the weekend's done, yeah?"

He raised his glass, anticipating a toast as the informal seal to the agreement.

Rob nodded, raising his glass as well, and then gestured for Tanya to do the same. "Cheers to that. Where should we bring the crew to meet you? We can get ourselves just about anywhere, if needed.”

“Here in port will do fine. Intercept point is high atmo, so pack accordingly.”

Rob nodded. "Here," he said, slipping a small card across the table, "contact us when it's time."

"Excellent. I'll be in touch within... say, 20 hours. Mister Shaw, miss, uh, Tanya."

Then he finished his beer, got up, and melted back into the crowd. If they paid attention, they might have caught a glimpse of metal and some strange rigid matte material underneath the coat when he stood, but the moment was too brief to tell for sure.