Adventures of LadyHawke
PRELUDE-THE PLAYERS MEET

A young wandering gambler, this is Martin Dobby's point of view, his thoughts in italics.

The underground drinking pit known as the Cargo Hold sits just below landing platforms, dug out of the ground.  It would be considered a nice place if it were out in the Rim, but here on a Border planet, it's a bit of a hole.  Of course, that's the attraction, as a place to go to avoid being seen, being recognized, maybe to be buried, or to be resurrected.

This looks like a good spot to find some marks.  With a number of medium and small freighters and a niiiice shuttle, there's definitely some opportunity here.  As usual for the entrance into a legit establishment, there are the obligatory lock boxes for unwanted weaponry, everything over a steak knife or what might be called a gun of any sort.  Bit of an honor system but frontier-type folks react poorly to unpleasant surprises, so best play by the rules.

It's a great way to enter a place, looking over everything and everybody, getting the lay of the land in a second.  Downside of course, it's like being on a stage for all to see.  Anyway, there's money sitting by himself, a few loners at the bar, a coiled snake sitting at a corner table trying to blend into the wall, and a crowd gathered around a table with what smells like opportunity.  Too bad my little rich friend isn't sitting at the game table.  Maybe he'll join soon enough, certainly seems interested.

Two large bags of luggage in hand and sauntering up to the bar, Martin gets a token bottle of cheap booze, something to make his future potential opponents feel more comfortable, a necessary and usually successful investment.  He walks casually over to the table where two men are wrapped up in a high stakes card game, pushing through a few chairs on which spectators sits close to the action.  He stands patiently on the edge, waiting for the invite to join during a break in the action.  Almost immediately, "Private game, son.  Move on." Says the older man of the two, and by older, I mean just old...and none too polite.

Utterly disappointed at this chain of events, Martin turns his sights on his alternate target, the guy he assumes came in with the new-model shuttle.  Doesn't seem as though he's really trying to hide it much, with that championship ring and all, and even the grubby clothes he's presumably using to blend in are designer.  It should be easy enough. "Hey buddy, mind if I join you?  Can't help but notice you seem to be looking for something or somebody.  I might be able to help.  Name's Martin and I know these parts pretty well."  Sitting down and extending hand.

Seeming to ignore him with the exception of a quick head to toe evaluation, attention mostly staying on the game table, "I doubt you can help me."

Martin, disappointed again, "Mind if I sit down anyway?"

Taking a deep breath and leaning back, the well-groomed and tailored stranger seems to relax a bit.  "Sure.  Maybe you can help me a little."  It's obvious to even the untrained eye that this fellow is athletic and on edge.  "What can you tell me about what's going on over there?"

Jarth Wiggin, an old lion, captain of the LadyHawke, and man who's long streak of bad luck is finally about to change.  Thoughts in his head are  in italics.

"Damn the luck."  Phrase never really made sense until now.  For the last three years I've been begging just for just the shadow of luck and not one glimpse of it until now.  And just in time to ruin my poetic walk into the sunset.  Now, four of a kind-even I cannot just fold on that, regardless of how much I have to lose...or in this case keep.

Every year for the last five or so, this day was the only day on the whole gorram calendar I could actually look forward to.  The one day that chance actually seemed to be in balance, when the bills didn't scream for payment, the ship didn't cry for repairs, crew didn't bellyache about their share, and the Alliance wasn't breathing down my neck.  Of course all these things keep on happening, but for a while I could forget.

Now "forget", that's a funny word...two syllables and a deceptively simple suggestion that it represents an actual possibility.  "Ignore" is a better word and even I couldn't ignore four of a kind, not this day.  Maybe the drought is actually over.

"Show" Reese says, laying down a full house. More than enough any other year and it should've been the case this year of all years.

 Five cards to change a destiny or in this case to keep it on the same humped course it's been on.  Five gorram cards.  "Read 'em and weep, Reese."  Normally a smirk would follow that glorious phrase which goes back to Earth That Was from what I hear.

            Reese's whole damn crew is here this year, apparently enjoying the show even thought he's on the ass-end of the hand.  Shouts fill this dark, dank, sunken hole of a bar, and most of those come from his comrades.  A few strangers that were paying attention seem to be getting a kick out of the results of a high stake game.  The one guy on Jarth's side, the only one left that is, doesn't cheer as much as give that crazy, and I do mean crazy, grin of his.  As disturbing as that grin is, it sure is nice to see again.  Not every day you see a game with a medium class freighter in the pot.

            "So, you manage to wager everything you own, get to keep it, and now you can't even gloat a little?  Not so much as a smile, even?  You know, Jarth, even you used to enjoy our little get-togethers."

            "Yeah, it's been great Reese.  Just like old times."  Jarth scoops up his winnings and gets up to leave the table where his fate just got decided.

            John Adams Reese is a pretty boy gambler and face man for The Symphony.  Hooked up with a good ship and crew, lucky bastard.  Would've brought him on board the Ladyhawke if I could trust him more than once a year.  "How about a chance to recover my losses a little?"  Reese subtly begs.  “The night's still young and ya don't have anywhere to go, or at least ya didn't when ya came in here."

            "Nah.  I'm done. I guess you'll have to wait ‘til next year." Let him stew for a year.  Bet he didn't realize that was in the pot too.

            "One more round, Jarth. You owe me that much."  What's Reese's game here?  Usually he's a better loser.

            "No I don't.  But I owe that guy a couple months' wages and a drink."  Looking at Siu Dan, I could almost hope to make a go of things again...maybe one last time.  "Don't suppose you need a younger pilot, do ya Reese?"  I knew the answer already but had to ask for some reason.  And I doubt Hunter appreciated that much, Reese certainly saw the humor though.  "Didn't think so.  Keep an ear out for me will you?" slapping a hand on the shoulder of Siu Dan.  "This guy is too good to end up on some gorram shuttle dropping poor settlers on dust-pile moons."

            The (sonofabitch) never could leave me with the last word. 

 "You know that this win doesn't change the fact that you have no parts to keep that boat in the Black, no fuel to get it off the ground, and no crew to complete a job even if you manage to find one on this rock."  Reese shouts across the joint just to make a point, and make it loudly.  He's usually smoother than that.

Sitting down at the bar next to Siu Dan felt a little like, well, family.  He might be a young crazy little pilot, but he's quiet and keeps things interesting.  Who'd a thought it possible from a 19 year old kid raised in a monastery out in the Black...'course he is a little nuts.  But ain't we all though?

            "Did I hear you need a crew?" a gravelly voice from behind Jarth.  An old voice with a hint of excitement and maybe...and maybe even some desperation.  Great.  Just great.

            "Not interested in interviewing right now, just enjoying my...victory."  Never turn around.  Just take a drink, ignore him, and he'll go away.  Make eye contact and he'll never shut up.  Maybe he could've snuck in a piece of iron and now he's planning to plunk me in the back.  Doubt it.  Not the type.

Leave it Siu Dan.  Dammit.  Curiosity must've got the best of him again.  Boy never could simply follow my lead or just stick with a plan. 

Siu Dan turns around and then darts back again to face Jarth with wide eyes.

Interesting.  The boy is always interesting.  Let's see then. 

Slowly turning to look over his shoulder...and then quickly darting back around to face the bartender and quickly take a drink, "Holy crap, man!  Warn a fella, will ya?!"  Seen my share of injuries but it's been a while and this guy's practically missing a face.

"Sorry ‘bout that.  Tend to forget...oh yeah, and I don't really care."  Rubbing at wrinkled scar tissue where a beard might've been were it not for a lack of follicles.  "I'm the best damn engineer you'll find here or on Beaumonde.  And I'm cheap."

Desperate and honest.  Not a likely combination.  "Cheap?  And the best?  Wow, you're just a great find aren't you?"  I guess at some point turning back around would be appropriate, considering he doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon...aw crap, now what?

"Well, if you're looking for an engineer we guess you'll be looking for some paying passengers next." Yet another voice, and this one's the little prick that tried to weasel into our card game just a half hour ago.

Turning around so as not to be surprised by any more solicitors, "What do you mean ‘we'?"  And there he is, little guy in an oversize coat, grinning like he's up to something and no doubt is.  "'Martin' was it?" Not really a question.  "Who's your friend?"  The guy standing behind Martin was obviously from the Core, a pretty boy way out of place, but obviously athletic and pathetically trying to disguise he's rich.  Should remove that ring if he even wants the chance to hide who he really is.  "He looks like he's lost."  Boy seems to have a little bit of an attitude problem too from the stare he's givin' right now.

"I'm...Jack.  I'm new out here, looking for a way to kill some time and disperse some credits.  Thought you might be interested in discussing terms given recent events" gesturing back to the table where Reese is still being ribbed by his crewmates.  Boy knows how to get attention.

"Well...'Jack'?...you want to 'disperse' some credits?  What exactly does that mean?  More importantly, why is somebody like you out here trying to do it?" Looking him up and down, the boy looks like he'd be able to handle himself in a fight, good attention and doesn't seem afraid of staring down a wild dog...albeit an aging one.

Stepping up and pushing Martin to the side a little, none to his comfort, "It's simple, I want...adventure but I don't really know anything beyond the Border.  You can smell it on me, I can tell.  And you can tell I mean it when I say I have the credits to move.  Just need a guide out here" leaning in a little "and some opportunities to clean them up."

"Hey, captain.  I don't know this guy and the game he's playin'.   Just met him.   I just want passage off this dust pile and you need passengers." Martin chimes in trying to distance himself from the stranger he'd decided to associate himself with a short while ago.

"Relax Martin.  Looks like you might be right, and I don't really care what either of your games are, just don't play'em on me or my crew.  Not that you don't need to fill me in a bit more so I know what I'm getting into.  It's 25 credits a day, usual rate.  Stay as long as you like, as long as you keep paying and you don't piss me off." Last part probably lacked the umpf  I'd intended thanks to the unusual looking lady just walked in.  Another gorram tiger trying to hide its stripes.  "Jack, don't suppose you want to start cleaning up some of your spare credits with a purchase of fuel, do ya?  Consider it an advance on your accommodations."  I'll be damned if she ain't coming right over.

Coming strait up to me, eyes darting around, looking over the guys gathered around me and those scattered around the room, she's in trouble, can smell it.  The black eye is a little tip-off too.  Doesn't match the dress she's hiding and that sense of royalty she's carrying.  "You own one of those ships out there, don't you?  I need out of here, now, no questions."  So much for small talk.  Beautiful but dirty, raw clothes over what must be a designer gown, and a smell of desperation.  My luck has definitely done a 180 today.

"Boys, could you leave us for a moment?"  Again, not a question, and they all seem to get it, as they head off an find a table, Siu Dan leading the way.  "Take a seat. You ain't too busy for that are you?  Besides, you look like you need a drink...and some ice."  Bartender catches the gesture and obliges, with the whiskey that is.  If she doesn't drink it, just another for me and it'll probably be a while before I'm in a place this classy again.

"Thanks." Catches her breath, slams the drink, and noticeably winces.  "...I think."

Damn she's beautiful.

"So, one of them is yours, right?" she shoots out immediately.

"Calm down there.  I understand you're in a hurry but nobody ever rides for free."  Taking a sip, "besides, we missed some pleasantries.  As you've guess already, I'm Captain Jarth Wiggin, owner and operator of the freighter LadyHawke you must have been admiring outside.  What's your name?" 

Her eyes stand their ground and don't seem to miss a beat.  "I've got about 250 credits...and another 250 when I get there and have a chance to contact my family. I'm in a hurry as you've already noted and you can call me Neala (neela) as we head to your ship, or do you need more time to nurse your drink?"

No way that's her name but not too many go by their real name anyway, yours truly included.  Now that I think about it, pretty sure he does.  "Siu Dan?  Come here for a second." Probably listening the whole time.  Boy has ears like a rabbit.  "Neala, I never slam a fine glass of whiskey and unless it started as a powder, it's fine. Siu Dan, please show this lovely lady, our two mysterious passengers, and that ugly fella to their quarters. Lady gets one of the nice..."

Neala jumps in quick with "Nothing special. I want regular crew quarters, if that's not a problem."

Eyebrow raised, "Wanna pay 250 for a cell, fine by me."  Shifting to his trusted pilot and tour guide, "Okay then, you heard her. Two boys get the guest suites and you know where the crew quarters are."  Not a frequent request by any means, but not necessary a dumb one either.

With a slight note of self-satisfaction in her voice, a hint of relief, and maybe a touch of flirt at the end "Heard that some guest quarters come with special...how should I say...enhancements. No disrespect, mind you, but desperate doesn't mean stupid, and we did just meet."  Turning to follow Siu Dan, "Made enough of those types of decisions to last me a while."

Finally, a little silence.  Funny how different I'll be walking out of here, compared to how I came in.  The way it is out here, I guess, luck constantly changing.  Can't say I've gotten used to it and I certainly don't like it.

About 20 minutes later, drink finished and enjoyed, it's time to go.  Setting down an empty glass and turning to go, Jarth can't help but notice it set down kinda heavy.  Not too often that I'm surprised anymore and this guy almost just got shot, were it not for the fact that my guns are in a locker up by the door.

A clear Asian accent and the smell of alcohol, "Don't suppose you have room for one more?" 

Standing at well over 6' tall and not 3' from Jarth's stool is a fella of middle age and eyes that, underneath a little gloss, suggest a bit more experience than any sap should have.  Seen it plenty out here, and every time I look in the mirror.

"Got a pilot.  Got an engineer.  Hell, I even got paying customers now.  What do you got that I need?"  This guy carries a heap of trouble with him.  He reeks of it.  Could be wrong, but I think he still carries a piece of iron too.

"I got your back, no questions."  And he means it.  Boy has the look down, that's for sure.

"Listen..."___"?"

"Johnny Soong." Matter of factly.

Starting to move towards the stairs out of this pit, but turning one last time, "Listen, Mr. Soong, got enough of a crew, I don't need another mouth to feed, and I certainly don't feel like splitting the pot more ways than necessary. Good luck, though."  Based on the look on his face, he's not understanding me.

"Don't pay me now, I'll pay my way.  At some point you'll need me and I'll be there.  Pay me what you think I'm worth then.  If I'm not needed after a week, drop me off at the nearest moon."  Again, matter of factly.

"Aw hell."  I'm going to regret this.  "Did you fight in the War, son?"  I think Johnny actually kinda winced at that question, meaning it's a yes..

"Yes."

"...guess you don't intend to elaborate on that, like which side?" eyebrow cocked.

"No. Does it matter?" The whole conversation seemed

"Not yet.  C'mon.  Apparently we're in a hurry."