Post by Ghostly on Mar 15, 2023 8:35:55 GMT
Sargasso was their destination. The cosmopolis of the Outworlds, where the Federation and Lykaians didn’t dare disrupt the trade unless they wanted their colonies blacklisted. The tiny moon had grown from a scummy spaceport to the center of commerce, science, and culture - albeit corporate and criminal. The Families kept business clean, at least on the surface.
The harsh side of life on Sargasso tended to push the science and corporate types out, so as the years went on the cartels kept the scum out of sight - built skyscrapers over the undesirables and let the blood drain into the dead, dry soil of what had once been a moon. When travelers arrived, they wouldn’t see the danger and grime. They would see the science quarter, the entertainment district, and the business plaza. Plenty of opportunity and excitement awaited the travelers aboard Starskipper 604. All they had to do was survive the flight a few more hours.
If someone took a look at the blueprints of the ship they’d see the layout had not been designed by an architect, rather it was built to make the most out of the available space. The largest part of the ship was the cargo bay, but the vessel wasn’t designed to haul with the bay full so it doubled as a common area - with a decent set of weights and a punching bag, a couch and holocom for entertainment and communication, and some open space for whatever else the passengers decided to do.
A hall connected the cargo bay directly to the bridge, but between them on either side of the hall lay the mess hall on the left and the bunks on the right - four bunk beds for eight passengers, the odd ones out had to pitch a hammock in the cargo hold or mess. The mess hall was typically clean as long as the passengers followed the golden rule - clean your own shit.
When empty, the rooms were virtually the same, with a second room connected serving as a bathroom for the bunks and a pantry for the mess hall. Not much was offered, but the passengers hadn’t paid much either so all in all it was fair. A dirt-cheap fare with no questions asked? It fit the bill for those who’d chartered it.
It certainly worked for Kaz.
It was early in the morning - not that they were tied to any celestial body to make that matter, but the Starskipper’s internal systems had been set to its own day-night cycle. This had been decided by the crew to try and keep them on a somewhat normal rhythm. Maintaining regularity was key for long hauls through the Bootstrap Lanes - the ungoverned trade routes, too broad and empty for any one power to try and enforce its laws. This made it an easy way to travel between freeports and systems without the fees and inspections of jackboots, but left it a hunting ground for pirates.
The route to Sargasso passed through the lanes, but only long enough to make a captain nervous. They’d make it close enough to the cartel world that most small fries knew better than to steal potential marks and business from the mouths of the Families. If a pirate crew wasn’t signed on as privateers to one of the Families, they got rubbed out. It was harsh, but that was life in the Lanes.
Still, the danger was real. Maybe that was why he’d chosen to fly with Starskipper - the excitement. Well, that and the fare - he wasn’t exactly liquid at the moment. The Fortuna job went sour - it wasn’t his fault, in his line of work it tended to happen. ‘Too many cooks in the kitchen,’ he’d said but the boss didn’t listen. They hardly ever did.
Rule number three, cash up front.
He’d forgotten his own damn rule - blame it on his good will. The job went off fine, safe and sound at home-base with guns for the good guys. Then the rebels started pinching pennies. On a good day, Kaz would’ve walked away with three quarters and told them good luck. The other mercs? Not so much. Threats became promises and soon the whole squad was blasting each other and the rebels. Kaz wisely followed rule four and made it out with only a couple bullets in his side and half his payment.
He’d managed to make it off-world, but then came the bills. Once he was done paying the medic and the smugglers he had hardly enough to pay for the shuttle to Sargasso, a chance to find some better work away from anyone stupid enough to try and go after him.
At least the coffee was free, and so was the weight room.
He was one of the first up, or so he’d reckon. He’d wisely taken to sleeping in a hammock in the cargo bay/commons, trying to spare others his restlessness. Kaz raised himself from his hammock and started his morning stretch - toe touches, neck rolls, a little warrior pose. Once he was feeling limbered up he made his way quietly to the mess hall, trying not to wake anyone else.
As soon as Kaz entered the mess, he got to work on brewing the coffee. He carefully ground the beans, and made sure to use only pure filtered water to brew the pot - only the best for his fellow passengers. As Kaz filled the insulated mug, he took a deep breath in through his nose - taking this moment to take pride in a job well done. Rule five, enjoy the tiny victories. The coffee went down smooth and warm, heating him from within and bringing a smile to his lips.
Today would be a good day.