Outsider

[Laowai]

The cabin stood hidden in a small hollow next to an almost dry creek bed. A small flow of water trickling down its path a reminder that this was not a planet blessed by nature. It was nestled in a valley in between two mountains miles outside the capital city on Crete. Huddled amongst trees and shrubs, were a casual observer to stand overlooking the valley, he would see no sign that any human ever went there.

This was precisely why, many years ago. Ben Laowai had decided to build the cabin in this spot. It allowed him quiet, privacy and plenty of places to test his more "explosive" weapons trials. On this trip though, he would not be testing any fancy new weapons. Not much beyond the Liberty "Sharpshot" long range blaster he had only recently procured. It was this that he held tight into his shoulder, its digital sights reading windage, distance and movement as he trained it on a small native quadruped, locally known as a "Sloucher", owing to its hunched forelegs, munching on one of the local shrubs.

The Blaster shot rang out sharp in the silence of the valley. Its sound reverberating up and echoing off the surrounding mountains. Ben looked up and around him as the sound retreated quickly away across the nearby countryside and turned to check the results of his hunt. His aim had been true and the small creature lay dead on its side. That's dinner tonight... he rose from his hide and collected the animal, slinging its short and stocky frame over his shoulders. He turned and made his way back to the cabin.
It wasn't much to look at, but then again he had never been one for appearances. A corsair who looked Kusari could never really afford to be. It was made from locally gathered timbers and its roof seemed to sag slightly in the middle. But it kept the wind and rain out and its one small room inside was cosy enough for his needs and easy to keep warm in the frigid Cretan winter nights.
He dropped the Sloucher onto the porch and kicked open the front door. The room inside was small. A bed to one side on which sat another smaller blaster pistol and a workbench on the other, littered with junk and communications equipment which other than the blasters were the only visible sign of technology. A table in the middle of the room bore several stacks of clothing and utensils. A small pile of wood behind this stood in front of a large open fireplace, ready to go should the temperatures outside warrant it.

He slung his blaster on a hook by the door, followed by his coat. Kicking off his boots he slumped down onto the bed. He exhaled loudly, cradling the ache in his side. The injuries he had sustained in battle would never fully heal he had been told, though in time, he would learn to manage them. Despite his age, he had always been active, now though, with too much exertion his body would remind him of its own mortality with sharp internal pains that would cause him to flinch and lose his breath. The entire thing frustrated the bejesus out him.

After he had paid off the last of his crew, he had mothballed his ships in his hangar and on Tripoli. He knew he would be planetside for an indefinite period of time and his disappointment at this, and his own feeling of failure when it came to his crew had changed his usual surliness into something more inward. As he recovered he felt more and more withdrawn. His Nephew had left Crete, his troubles in Liberty seemingly miraculously sorted, and he had ignored the calls from his sister. Soon, all had become quiet, and his hangar seemed strangely, empty and old.
He did not want to stay.

So, telling no one, he packed some things and early one morning had made his way out to his hidden cabin in the mountains. He had spoken to no one since. That had been over a week ago.

The communicator in his bench crackled to itself, small snippets of comm traffic from Omicron Gamma filtering through, a trader here, a Corsair there. Occasionally he caught what sounded like battle, but it had been short, fast and over as quickly as it began. He raised himself off the bed with a groan, going out to the porch he dragged the Sloucher round behind the Cabin, slinging it up by its hind legs he quickly slit its throat to drain its blood and then gutted and skinned it. The Hides were useful, Once prepared they could make a tough form of leather which was often used in Corsair garments. He slung that up on a separate rack to let it dry. After letting the animal drain he took it down and began to slice off the best cuts of meat, Tonight he would eat his fill, drink his baijiu and hopefully pass out into a dream and pain free sleep.

A distant sound caught his ear and he looked up. Through the canopy of trees above him he could see a small speck arching across the sky. It burned intensely at first and then suddenly vanished, leaving only a faint hint in the sky as indication that it had ever been there. If he was one of ours, i hope he got out, Ben thought to himself.


Later that night, as he lay on his cot, he listened to the faint chatter of radio traffic, he replayed the last battle with the Nomads in his head, questioning his actions, wondering what he could have done differently, replaying the scenario in his head over and over until eventually he drifted off to sleep.

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