Enter Banditry
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Old Fogie Join Date: 2003-01-09 Member: 12052Members, Constellation
Old Fogie Join Date: 2003-01-09 Member: 12052Members, Constellation
<div class="IPBDescription">smugglers run?</div> <i><b>I just had the idea for this story and spat it out kind of hurriedly. It's just a short bit of "expanded universe", if you will. Tell me what you think and maybe I'll expand on it. Please pardon any spelling errors.</b></i>
<b><u>Enter Banditry</u></b>
"Christ", he muttered.
Morden, and that's Commander Josh Morden of the TSA Frontiersmen Hera post, had just received word that a small frigate, called <i>the Jackleg</i>, had just asked for clearance to land on <i>Hera</i> station.
"Give him clearance", he told the docking officer, "but I want Mercer, Littlejohn, and Flip there with me. I don't take chances with pirates."
With an affirmative reply, the docking officers voice fizzled out of Morden's helmet. Morden had taken the position on <i>Hera</i> after several field command jobs with the Frontiersmen had given him both the passion to lead and the hatred to kill Kharaa - something he'd become quite good at during his tenure in the marines. He had developed accomplished skills as a commander, soldier, pilot, and station manager in little more than a year of service and the TSA had not let his skills go unnoticed: the opportunity to take back this space station was handed down from Sergeant Haverhill himself and Morden had no intention of letting them down. With all this in mind, Morden took one extra step to ensure a clean bug-hunt and an even cleaner record under his name.
It was no secret that the Frontiersmen had been under heavy financial stress since the beginnings of this war. The TSA, influence and importance aside, had always been underfunded and despite its efforts, and those of the Constellation, not every division and squad of marines had the materials necessary to take on the aliens with a desirable amount of firepower. The <i>Hera</i> clean up would not have to contend with this disadvantage and that is where <i>The Jackleg</i> comes in. Traveling across distant star systems, fighting aliens for a full year will put one in contact with all sorts of interesting people: Captain Edee was one such person that Morden had met during his training time in the <i>Yamova System</i>.
As he walked down the dimly lit corridors of <i>Hera</i>, Morden recalled his firt meeting with the miserly smuggler. Edee was the sort of stereotype you read about in space opera novels. He was thin, tall and quite unkempt with a long nose and bad teeth. He was almost always seen in beige or brown clothing, to match his dirty hair, Morden supposed. Edee gave the then inexperienced marine something of a lesson in economics and Morden hadn't forgotten him. That was thirteen months ago and he reckoned Edee had not changed a bit.
As he neared the docking bay, three marines fell in alongside him per his order.
"Another order comin' in, boss?" one Frontiersmen asked, saluting as passerby.
"Maybe you shouldn't worry about it, Flip. Just keep your eyes peeled and your gun warm."
Morden didn't like being short or cynical with his men, but knowing that he had to deal with people like Edee shortened his fuse.
"An order of what?" asked Mercer, the least experienced of the group.
Littlejohn chuckled as the Commander replied, "<b>Don't</b> worry about it. Just do as I said."
They rounded the corner into the docking bay foyer and punched a short numerical code into the terminal. With a strong hiss and some steam, the doors opened to reveal a battered but highly equipped spacecraft, <i>the Jackleg</i> itself. Out from behind the grayish ship strode Edee, his hair much shorter than it was upon their last meeting, but nonethless unmistakable.
"Well! All high and mighty now, are we?" yelled Edee in as uncouth a manner as possible.
"I don't know what you mean, Edee." was Mordens reply.
"Got yourself a fine station all to yourself, have you?" he chuckled and slapped Morden on the back once he was near enough. He waved at the marines behind the commander, "Holdin' up, are we Flip? I've not seen you since...when? Sectari!"
Flip smiled and nodded but did not approach the smuggler.
"Cut the ****, Edee. This is a business meeting and I've got xenoforms to shoot."
"Alright Josh, alright," he chuckled again, "No harm reminscing then."
Morden sighed. He hated being called by his first name in front of his men but he didn't hassle Edee for it. Not while there were all the ammo and equipment he needed on board that ship.
The advent of this new war went down like any other war in human history; with as many parties as possible trying to capitolize upon it. One such party were the space pirates and smugglers. Once interplanetary travel had become more commercialized, so began the age old tradition of taking what was not ones own and selling it for the highest profit margin imaginable. The war against the Kharaa opened the window of opportunity for many illegal arms dealers to earn their keep by selling weapons to independent outposts under alien threat (be it a real threat or one fabricated by the "salesman"), as well as marine batallions paying out of their own pockets, such as Mordens, all the way down the line to Frontiersmen command itself.
"You sure I can't interest in some of my famous nano-nukes? Guaranteed to whip a hive instantly or your money back!" Edee was quite the marketer.
"The usuals only. You know I like to keep things as legit as possible. I need Nozzles, Sentries and ammo just like I ordered. That's all."
Edee sneered, peering into the cargo hold of <i>the Jackleg</i>. He reached in and pulled out large digital pad, pressing a few buttons to total up the order. He handed the pad to Morden who ran his finger across the authorization sensor and, in turn, handed it back to Edee. He smiled a toothless smile and knocked on the side of the ship. After a while, a short and portly gentleman walked out from the ship, pushing a hover (hovar?) palette weighted down by the cold steel of guns and ammunitions. Morden signaled to Mercer and Littlejohn who shouldered their light machine-guns and came to take the palette away. Edee stuck out his hand and Morden shook it, politely.
"Fine doing business with you, Edee."
"A pleasure as always...Commander."
Edee laughed, rather hyserically, as the door to <i>the Jackleg</i>s hold closed up and the marines walked away. The men loaded into their ship, the marines left, and the air lock opened for the ship to be on its way. There was work to be done: the Frontiersmen had aliens to destroy and smuggler had to destroy some bank accounts. (cheesy ending? <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->)
<b><u>Enter Banditry</u></b>
"Christ", he muttered.
Morden, and that's Commander Josh Morden of the TSA Frontiersmen Hera post, had just received word that a small frigate, called <i>the Jackleg</i>, had just asked for clearance to land on <i>Hera</i> station.
"Give him clearance", he told the docking officer, "but I want Mercer, Littlejohn, and Flip there with me. I don't take chances with pirates."
With an affirmative reply, the docking officers voice fizzled out of Morden's helmet. Morden had taken the position on <i>Hera</i> after several field command jobs with the Frontiersmen had given him both the passion to lead and the hatred to kill Kharaa - something he'd become quite good at during his tenure in the marines. He had developed accomplished skills as a commander, soldier, pilot, and station manager in little more than a year of service and the TSA had not let his skills go unnoticed: the opportunity to take back this space station was handed down from Sergeant Haverhill himself and Morden had no intention of letting them down. With all this in mind, Morden took one extra step to ensure a clean bug-hunt and an even cleaner record under his name.
It was no secret that the Frontiersmen had been under heavy financial stress since the beginnings of this war. The TSA, influence and importance aside, had always been underfunded and despite its efforts, and those of the Constellation, not every division and squad of marines had the materials necessary to take on the aliens with a desirable amount of firepower. The <i>Hera</i> clean up would not have to contend with this disadvantage and that is where <i>The Jackleg</i> comes in. Traveling across distant star systems, fighting aliens for a full year will put one in contact with all sorts of interesting people: Captain Edee was one such person that Morden had met during his training time in the <i>Yamova System</i>.
As he walked down the dimly lit corridors of <i>Hera</i>, Morden recalled his firt meeting with the miserly smuggler. Edee was the sort of stereotype you read about in space opera novels. He was thin, tall and quite unkempt with a long nose and bad teeth. He was almost always seen in beige or brown clothing, to match his dirty hair, Morden supposed. Edee gave the then inexperienced marine something of a lesson in economics and Morden hadn't forgotten him. That was thirteen months ago and he reckoned Edee had not changed a bit.
As he neared the docking bay, three marines fell in alongside him per his order.
"Another order comin' in, boss?" one Frontiersmen asked, saluting as passerby.
"Maybe you shouldn't worry about it, Flip. Just keep your eyes peeled and your gun warm."
Morden didn't like being short or cynical with his men, but knowing that he had to deal with people like Edee shortened his fuse.
"An order of what?" asked Mercer, the least experienced of the group.
Littlejohn chuckled as the Commander replied, "<b>Don't</b> worry about it. Just do as I said."
They rounded the corner into the docking bay foyer and punched a short numerical code into the terminal. With a strong hiss and some steam, the doors opened to reveal a battered but highly equipped spacecraft, <i>the Jackleg</i> itself. Out from behind the grayish ship strode Edee, his hair much shorter than it was upon their last meeting, but nonethless unmistakable.
"Well! All high and mighty now, are we?" yelled Edee in as uncouth a manner as possible.
"I don't know what you mean, Edee." was Mordens reply.
"Got yourself a fine station all to yourself, have you?" he chuckled and slapped Morden on the back once he was near enough. He waved at the marines behind the commander, "Holdin' up, are we Flip? I've not seen you since...when? Sectari!"
Flip smiled and nodded but did not approach the smuggler.
"Cut the ****, Edee. This is a business meeting and I've got xenoforms to shoot."
"Alright Josh, alright," he chuckled again, "No harm reminscing then."
Morden sighed. He hated being called by his first name in front of his men but he didn't hassle Edee for it. Not while there were all the ammo and equipment he needed on board that ship.
The advent of this new war went down like any other war in human history; with as many parties as possible trying to capitolize upon it. One such party were the space pirates and smugglers. Once interplanetary travel had become more commercialized, so began the age old tradition of taking what was not ones own and selling it for the highest profit margin imaginable. The war against the Kharaa opened the window of opportunity for many illegal arms dealers to earn their keep by selling weapons to independent outposts under alien threat (be it a real threat or one fabricated by the "salesman"), as well as marine batallions paying out of their own pockets, such as Mordens, all the way down the line to Frontiersmen command itself.
"You sure I can't interest in some of my famous nano-nukes? Guaranteed to whip a hive instantly or your money back!" Edee was quite the marketer.
"The usuals only. You know I like to keep things as legit as possible. I need Nozzles, Sentries and ammo just like I ordered. That's all."
Edee sneered, peering into the cargo hold of <i>the Jackleg</i>. He reached in and pulled out large digital pad, pressing a few buttons to total up the order. He handed the pad to Morden who ran his finger across the authorization sensor and, in turn, handed it back to Edee. He smiled a toothless smile and knocked on the side of the ship. After a while, a short and portly gentleman walked out from the ship, pushing a hover (hovar?) palette weighted down by the cold steel of guns and ammunitions. Morden signaled to Mercer and Littlejohn who shouldered their light machine-guns and came to take the palette away. Edee stuck out his hand and Morden shook it, politely.
"Fine doing business with you, Edee."
"A pleasure as always...Commander."
Edee laughed, rather hyserically, as the door to <i>the Jackleg</i>s hold closed up and the marines walked away. The men loaded into their ship, the marines left, and the air lock opened for the ship to be on its way. There was work to be done: the Frontiersmen had aliens to destroy and smuggler had to destroy some bank accounts. (cheesy ending? <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->)
Comments
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And its hover, not hovar. Hovar is smart_bomb's way of spelling it in t3h sc0rp1an th4t h0v4rs w1t 0u+ f1app1ng!!!!11oneone
no this ending isn't cheesy at all
you could make a story where the TSA needs to come and investigate a suspected infestation aboard a smugglers craft (wonder which one) and a certain Squad can go investage (again, I wonder which one) and then they could team up and take out some kharaa
hey, you never know when a sequel/prequel will strike