Robert Heinlein said that the less we have to lose, the tighter we hold on to it. Not his exact words, but something to that effect. I felt like a Ferengi down to his last slip of latinum. The main promenade on Builder Station was not exactly the worst place to go broke. I could find a living cubical and live here for years without a credit to my name, no one would bother me. If only money was what I lacked.
There are worse things than going broke, don't let anyone fool you otherwise. Lack of a good name on this station was like being covered in a bad smelling substance. Ane avoided you, and as a result, so did everyone else. Starfleet had my ship and pulled my ticket. I was in the worst place in the Federation to be to have a bad reputation with the natives. My name was mud and every one of the four legged bastards knew it. I might as well find that cubical and lay low for a year or five.
I could try the Orion enclave. But frankly I liked having a soul, and Heinlein was right; when that is all you have left you hang onto it.
The small lifter would take the weight off my feet and no one was guarding the thing. The station was lousy with lifters.
"Location please." said the lifter.
I didn't know they talked. "Ah, radial arm between box 20 and box 21, random living module with a space view."
The lifter moved forward. The numbing same view after same view passed by. Literal miles deep into the heart of the massive station. If i didn't know the general area I specified I wouldn't have a clue as to where I was.
The sudden stop started me, I guess I had drifted off into a fugue. I got off the lifter and picked one of several doors. It opened to my palm. "Key door, my biometrics."
"Door Keyed" chimed the computer.
"Give me my location."
"Residence 4,493,540 Deck Upper 233, Ring 6."
Damn, big place. Well no one was likely to find me here for a while. The window view as spectacular, even if a good deal of it was more station. I was looking back at the central spire and between 20 and 21. The room itself was large if a bit spartan. Builders were larger critters, that meant that even small quarters for them were decent for me. I checked the head, about as expected, a few touches and I had facilities fit for a king. If I sipped lightly at the replicator I could stay under notice for years. A quick pass through the whole room had the place looking and feeling just like I wanted.
A week later I was ready to spit nails. I was looking at yet another day of endless hours when a thought hit me hard enough to stand me on my feet. Yea! That Andorian. He was still looking for test monkey last I heard. I could not only test his time machine, but lift it. Now, how to I get a hold of him without tipping off people that rather I didn't?
The gorgeous ship in the window caught my eye. To say I lusted after her was a gross understatement, she was like everything I could desire. She came closer to the ring wall. The hell? What was a ship doing here. He was either lost or hiding. I decides that a gun would be a good thing to have. My door snapped open to show an old man with a big assed blaster, pointed right at me.
"Billy, you don't need a gun, now get over here where I can see you."
"Who are you?" I got.
"I'm your best friend right now. Even if you don't believe me."
"I'm certainly friends with who ever is pointing a gun at me."
The guy tossed an object on my couch. "Transporter key for the ship outside. You can use my papers no problem. Just keep your nose clean from now on."
"Dude, now you're weirding me out. Just hand me a ship at gun point and tell me to be a good boy?"
"Yea, I knew you wouldn't buy it so easily. The Andorian is a nut in several ways. His crazy device will work, but not in any way you can fathom. You'll get what you want. But you will regret the price the rest of your unspeakable life, in ways you cannot possibly understand right now."
"Now I'm totally weirded out. You're reading my mind."
"No you ass. I'm reading my mind. How do you think I got the door open? Andorian is dead, it's better for the Galaxy that way. I'm you, you ass."
"Yea, me." The guy was crazy mad..er...ist.
"Get the key and get out of here."
"What about you?" I edged my way casually to the couch, don't startle the madman with the gun.
He had a look on his face I never want to see again, a man so happy he was mad. "Don't worry, I've taken ca...."
I dove in the couch at the first hint of something wrong, the thud hit as my face was milliseconds from the cushions. I heard the splatter and the soft thud. I grabbed the key and scrambled to my feet. The old guy's neck was bleeding out on the rug. His head decorated the walls and furnishings. Eeew. My back was likely covered in gore I better get a shower...I hit the transport key.
My ship was at warp before I finished the shower. Everything checked out, New Portsmouth papers, my biometrics. The hold was full of legit cargo, and I had a fat bank account and a new name. Mana from Heaven, or was it from Hell? What kind of thing is so terrible that a man goes to this trouble to see it never happens. It's going to take a lot of whiskey to erase the sight of his head starting to bloat from my mind. I don't think I can ever forget the look on his face, my face at how happy that made him.
The Big Red Reset -- Garry Stahl, November, 2010
Hey, you write what comes off the keyboard. I have mentioned that I don't like time travel. This might be why.
There are worse things than going broke, don't let anyone fool you otherwise. Lack of a good name on this station was like being covered in a bad smelling substance. Ane avoided you, and as a result, so did everyone else. Starfleet had my ship and pulled my ticket. I was in the worst place in the Federation to be to have a bad reputation with the natives. My name was mud and every one of the four legged bastards knew it. I might as well find that cubical and lay low for a year or five.
I could try the Orion enclave. But frankly I liked having a soul, and Heinlein was right; when that is all you have left you hang onto it.
The small lifter would take the weight off my feet and no one was guarding the thing. The station was lousy with lifters.
"Location please." said the lifter.
I didn't know they talked. "Ah, radial arm between box 20 and box 21, random living module with a space view."
The lifter moved forward. The numbing same view after same view passed by. Literal miles deep into the heart of the massive station. If i didn't know the general area I specified I wouldn't have a clue as to where I was.
The sudden stop started me, I guess I had drifted off into a fugue. I got off the lifter and picked one of several doors. It opened to my palm. "Key door, my biometrics."
"Door Keyed" chimed the computer.
"Give me my location."
"Residence 4,493,540 Deck Upper 233, Ring 6."
Damn, big place. Well no one was likely to find me here for a while. The window view as spectacular, even if a good deal of it was more station. I was looking back at the central spire and between 20 and 21. The room itself was large if a bit spartan. Builders were larger critters, that meant that even small quarters for them were decent for me. I checked the head, about as expected, a few touches and I had facilities fit for a king. If I sipped lightly at the replicator I could stay under notice for years. A quick pass through the whole room had the place looking and feeling just like I wanted.
A week later I was ready to spit nails. I was looking at yet another day of endless hours when a thought hit me hard enough to stand me on my feet. Yea! That Andorian. He was still looking for test monkey last I heard. I could not only test his time machine, but lift it. Now, how to I get a hold of him without tipping off people that rather I didn't?
The gorgeous ship in the window caught my eye. To say I lusted after her was a gross understatement, she was like everything I could desire. She came closer to the ring wall. The hell? What was a ship doing here. He was either lost or hiding. I decides that a gun would be a good thing to have. My door snapped open to show an old man with a big assed blaster, pointed right at me.
"Billy, you don't need a gun, now get over here where I can see you."
"Who are you?" I got.
"I'm your best friend right now. Even if you don't believe me."
"I'm certainly friends with who ever is pointing a gun at me."
The guy tossed an object on my couch. "Transporter key for the ship outside. You can use my papers no problem. Just keep your nose clean from now on."
"Dude, now you're weirding me out. Just hand me a ship at gun point and tell me to be a good boy?"
"Yea, I knew you wouldn't buy it so easily. The Andorian is a nut in several ways. His crazy device will work, but not in any way you can fathom. You'll get what you want. But you will regret the price the rest of your unspeakable life, in ways you cannot possibly understand right now."
"Now I'm totally weirded out. You're reading my mind."
"No you ass. I'm reading my mind. How do you think I got the door open? Andorian is dead, it's better for the Galaxy that way. I'm you, you ass."
"Yea, me." The guy was crazy mad..er...ist.
"Get the key and get out of here."
"What about you?" I edged my way casually to the couch, don't startle the madman with the gun.
He had a look on his face I never want to see again, a man so happy he was mad. "Don't worry, I've taken ca...."
I dove in the couch at the first hint of something wrong, the thud hit as my face was milliseconds from the cushions. I heard the splatter and the soft thud. I grabbed the key and scrambled to my feet. The old guy's neck was bleeding out on the rug. His head decorated the walls and furnishings. Eeew. My back was likely covered in gore I better get a shower...I hit the transport key.
My ship was at warp before I finished the shower. Everything checked out, New Portsmouth papers, my biometrics. The hold was full of legit cargo, and I had a fat bank account and a new name. Mana from Heaven, or was it from Hell? What kind of thing is so terrible that a man goes to this trouble to see it never happens. It's going to take a lot of whiskey to erase the sight of his head starting to bloat from my mind. I don't think I can ever forget the look on his face, my face at how happy that made him.
The Big Red Reset -- Garry Stahl, November, 2010
Hey, you write what comes off the keyboard. I have mentioned that I don't like time travel. This might be why.
