The traffic was very heavy in and out of the Helios wormhole nexus to Ukari, with convoys of Behemoths escorted by Warthogs and vultures all painted in garish pink and violet colours. Hortan had hailed the pilots as usual, but the members of the KAOS guild apparently had a no comms policy, or they simply didn't want to hail back. The names of the members flying the combat ships were enough to make Hortan's blood run cold, but they seemed uninterested in a lone miner. He seemed to remember that the name Chainsaw Slan had been very prominent in Dau last year, something with the disappearance of some young women.
It was a good thing that they ignored him, because as he had a belly full of Heliocene ore his ship was rather unresponsive and heavy. No way he could outrun anything, and as usual he was only armed with twin mining beams, so fighting was equally impossible. He kept to the nadir, and after the convoy had cleared the wormhole, Hortan engaged the turbo and set the course to the jump point. Exiting the unreality of between space, he was greeted by a very unwelcome Atlas TPG X coloured in white.
M. Wittman: Yarr, pays me 300.000 or ye be boomed. Yarr!
Hortan started to turn the cumbersome behemoth way from the roids that were stopping him from jumping, but realised that the Atlas was merely hundreds of metres away, and that he would never get away safe. Sighing deeply, he disengaged the engines and found his cred stick. Even if he were the official TGFT Diplomat to CLM didn't make him less of a target. He had been pirated by Wittman before, and he knew that if he paid he would get off sound and safe. Besides, the cargo was more than 2,5 million credits worth. He keyed his radio.
"I thought you usually charged 100k, not 300. Why are you so expensive now?"
M. Wittman: I have a large beer bill from last week’s party in HQ. 300k will cover about half.
Hortan smiled, he could imagine the party in CLM HQ. He wondered if she...he blushed hard and fumbled the cred stick into the transmission slot. He transferred 500k to Wittman.
"Give some beer on me please?"
M. Wittman: Sure, I'll get some kegs from you. Safe trip Hort.
Hortan re-engaged the drive and accelerated towards the 3k mark. He was smiling like a madman at the thought of the immensely drunk pirates in Latos. He hoped that..he started blushing again. What was in those pills the doctor had prescribed?
He jumped into Dau K-10 and moved the 52-ton craft into the docking bay, with only small taps on the side and top thrusters to guide him to the cradle. As soon as he was allowed, he exited the cockpit and walked the length of his ship, one hand following the flank of the Behemoth like the caressing touch from a lover. He had not felt this happy since, well ever.
John Eldritch woke slowly to light that was too bright and sound that was too loud. He opened his eyes a smidgeon and scanned the room for the goat that must have been tongue kissing with him ever since he came home from the stag party. His tongue felt three sizes too large for his mouth, and he was so thirsty that he contemplated just putting his head into the toilet and slurp the water from within like a dog. He slowly sat up and grabbed his head with both hands to make sure it didn't crack and ooze the contents down on the floor. Why, oh why hadn't he stopped earlier last night? He was never ever going to drink again, not a chance. He looked around for a jump suit, could not find any, put on some loafers that was around his size and got up. He sat down again fast, looked in desperation for some painkillers, and sighed mightily when he saw the bottle on his table. He shook two pills out, decided that two was not going to do it, doubled and chucked them dry. He staggered over to the lavatory and relieved himself of the excesses from his nightly drinking binge. With a sigh of relief he started humming while splashing into the water.
"Mmmm, are you awake?"
John stopped immediately. The female voice was NOT supposed to be there. He was very certain about that. He drew his boxers up and slowly turned, aware of his semi-nakedness. A young girl clad in a pair of high heels and a several sizes too large T-shirt that proclaimed "I Hate All Prejudiced People" sat on the other bed. Her makeup was smeared, and she looked just as fresh as John felt. He looked in panic for a jump suit, and found one that was marginally clean. He quickly put it on while the young woman rubbed her eyes and found her purse. John was in panic. He could absolutely not remember how, where or even when he had seen the girl, and he could not for his death rememb....oh shit. He noticed a blonde wig lying next to a small string dress, and the connection slammed into him like a Teradon on steroids. Her name was Rose, and she was from The Priggly Pear. Now, if he could just remember how she had arrived here...
Waldoze felt more that usually crap today. He was used to headaches, he was used to the heavy fatigue after a binge, and he was used to the shaking and blurred vision that followed the extreme ethanol poisoning that he regularly submitted his body to. He was however not used to be getting several enemas before breakfast, so he was more than regularly sore in his behind. At least the keys came out eventually, and his stomach stopped cramping. This was the last time he swallowed a set of keys, no matter how drunk he was getting. At least he could sleep for the rest of the day, maybe play on the station net or something. He stopped and fumbled with his keycard outside the room, his hands shaking more than normally. Finally he got the card out, and he started to open the door. Laughter greeted him, female laughter. Not entirely what he expected, matter of fact, he had expected to hear a deep snoring from John inside. He opened the door fully and saw John and a slender girl sit on Waldoze's bed. They turned to look at him as he walked into the room with wider than normal steps.
"And so the prodigal son returns. We were just talking about you Wal. Off course you remember Rose, right?"
Waldoze's headache just intensified immensely. He remembered Rose, oh boy how he remembered Rose. How he was going to get out of this one on the other hand, was another matter entirely.
"Rose here told me that you had promised to get her back to Daltas hold in the morning. And I must say that it is way past morning now." Waldoze cursed John's cheerful voice that felt like a cheese grater being pulled across his brains.
"Right, right, just let me find a ship or something." Waldoze sat down hard on the single chair at his desk. He put his head in his hands, pulled up and wiped his hair back. He looked around for salvation, and found a half-full bottle of Helio Mists. He grabbed it and drank a large chunk of it. Pure medicine. "Right, where were we?"
"Easy now big fella, I have arranged for Rose here to be taken by a far less drunk pilot than you." The girl giggled and John grinned at Waldoze's look of relief at getting off the hook.
"Man, I owe you one. My ass, pardon my language Ms., hurts in eighteen different new interesting ways, and I am not sure I would be able to sit down for the entire trip." He got up and crashed himself on John's bed, spilling the covers on the floor.
"That was one crazy party last night, but we got Mor, we got Mor good."
John nodded. "Yep, we sure did. I am not entirely feeling too hot myself. Wonder how Mor is feeling now with all the Helio Mists you poured on him Wal. Not to mention that purple drink that Buzz ordered."
Waldoze could feel the drink in his belly try to force its way up his throat, and grabbed the bottle to force it down again. "Don't mention Buzz. I have to get back at him somehow."
"Oh, why is that?"
Waldoze turned and bared the right shoulder. A large Behemoth with the TGFT logo and BAMF written underneath was tattooed on it. "How he managed to talk us into it, I do not know, but I have to get back at him somehow."
John didn't stop laughing until the door alarm rang despite the hard glare from Waldoze, accompanied by various things he could throw after John.
