Diary of Aubrey McKnight

[Jayce]

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Aubrey stood from his night-long task, heaving a breathy sigh and tossing another filthy, rust-stained rag into the bucket of water at his feet. He'd been at it for close to 9 hours, and it was finally over. Hundreds of Credits spent on water, soap, "Stevo's Magik Rust-B-Gon," and shop rags eventually bought his new home some semblance of cleanliness. The ship still needed a new coat of paint, obviously, but at least it wouldn't cost a set of clothes every time he accidentally bumped into a rusty fin or brushed against a landing strut. The majority of the station had been asleep while Aubrey was working, and more than a few gave a subtle nod to the impressive work that had been accomplished as they wandered to their ships to start the day's work. Aubrey's muscles ached, and a few unsightly bruises marred his usually-fair skin, though their pain was entirely overwhelmed by the relief of finally having a clean place to sleep. In all honesty, the inside of the ship was more difficult to clean than the outside, since he dared not use the pressure washer on the interior. Water doesn't tend to mix well with electronics, even those as robust as on the Z-line.

"Fuh... I'm beat." The now-Freelancer mused as he dumped the last bucket of water into a disposal drain at the corner of the hangar. "Makes me wish I was out delivering pizzas again." Upending the bucket and resting it on the deck, Aubrey seated himself to admire his handiwork. The last of his funds had gone towards a full load of fuel, food, and a few other odds and ends to spruce up the otherwise-Spartan interior of his new vessel. A string of Christmas lights hung from the roof of the cargo bay, adding a bit more light and color to the interior of the drab vessel. In all honesty, they weren't really needed, and they were expensive to obtain and wire in, but they added a certain je n'ais ce quoi to the ship. He'd had a similar set strung up in the "Kefir", his faithful Garanchou, and their dancing colors helped to keep him awake during those long, silent runs across space.

Stevo watched from the far side of the hangar bay with amusement. After all the work his customer had put into the Bactrian, it almost resembled a functioning ship, and he almost resembled a functioning Junker. And, as the saying goes, a Junker takes care of his own. Most of the time, at least. "Hey, Aubrey!" He shouted, shocking the young man from his daydream. "Over here!" Waving with his one good arm, he beckoned his new "friend" over.

"What's up, Stevo?" Aubrey replied in a half-yell across the landing bay, wearily taking to his feet to close the gap between himself and the ship salesman. Stretching his shoulders back slightly, his back popped in a startlingly loud manner. "I'm too young to be too old for this shit."

"Hey, listen." Stevo replied once Aubrey had entered conversational range. "I'm impressed with the work you put into that thing. Damn impressed, and that hunk of sh-... Ship. Hunk of ship, cost you more than a pretty penny." The Junker coughed into his one good hand, eliciting a cocked-eyebrow reaction from Aubrey. "And, well, I know you just got laid off from some big soulless corporation. Happened to a lot of us, really. I feel for you. Anyway, I've got some cargo that needs to make it's way to Nagano. Specifically, to Planet Tomioka. Should be a total milk run, long as you stay off the lanes, anyway."

"Uh huh. Off the lanes. So smuggling, then?" While taking a few-minute break between cleaning the inside and outside of his ship, Aubrey had done some digging on house laws and regulations. He wasn't entirely happy with the fact that the Liberty government wasn't in the habit of issuing titles for Pirate ships, and Interspace Commerce is even less keen on issuing insurance for said ships. A rather loud facepalm and the realization he just might have wasted a whole pile of money washed over him in that moment, though that glumness retreated once he caught sight of the NO REFUNDZ sign hanging next to Stevo's office. No sense in crying over spilled milk, after all. "Lots of 'milk' references today..." Aubrey muttered under his breath, eyes wandering through the hangar again.

"Aubrey. Hey. Manhattan to Aubrey!" Stevo waved his hand (singular) in front of the young one's face, retrieving him out of his daydream. "Huh? Oh, sorry! Just a little tired, that's all. You mentioned cargo, right?"

"Yeah, I mentioned it. Listen, I've got some business to do here for the next week or so, and my client would really like to have this cargo before then. You get it there on time, and we'll split the money, fifty-fifty. Sound alright?" Aubrey had just opened his mouth to protest, since he wasn't even sure what the cargo was, before Stevo interrupted. "Good! You go on ahead and get some shuteye. Me and the boys, well, just the boys really, will get all the goods loaded for you." Aubrey held up a hand and opened his mouth once more, and again, he was interrupted by a piercing whistle from Stevo. "Hey, boys! Let's get them crates loaded up, this guy's got a run to make!"

Letting out another sigh, Aubrey turned his back to the now-smiling Stevo and trudged his way back into the ship, before flopping down on a hastily-hung hammock in the walkway between the cargo bay and the cockpit. A few welded bits of scrap formed a shaky shelf just to his left, where he'd stored his pistol and datapad. Fidgeting around for a moment, he eventually fingered the plastic rectangle to life, and activated the record function. "Well, diary, I guess I'm finally self-employed. Stevo just saddled me with god-knows-what going to who-the-hell-cares. For all I know, I'm going to be schlepping around someone else's drugs or guns or drug-guns for the rest of my life." Rolling onto his side, Aubrey continued. "Not that it matters what I'm hauling, since this ship is liable to get impounded wherever I go, anyway. If I manage to actually make a bit of money, maybe I can pay off the rent-a-cops here in Liberty if I get caught, but Lord help me if the State Police sniff me out." The sideways image of his face darkened as the lights were dimmed and the airlocks between the cargo bay and flight deck were closed and sealed. "Whatever. Here's hoping Stevo and his boys don't make too much noise. I'm gonna' need a solid 12 hours of beauty rest after last night. Night, diary."

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