Privateer's Commission (PC) -CH 1- (Patreon)

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“You know what? You’re a thief. A damn thief!” cursed the merchant behind the counter. He lifted a finger and waggled it at Ralph. The older man’s countenance was that of a full faced grimace with his white eyebrows pulled down low over brown eyes. “You’re robbing me!”

“I’m no such thing, and I’m certainly not robbing you,” disagreed Ralph with a warm chuckle. He leaned up against the counter, gestured at the crates he’d brought in with hired help, and then looked back to the merchant. “In fact, I’m giving you the first opportunity to even buy it, Walt. How is that being a thief at all?

“In fact, you should be thanking me. Thanking me for giving you that right. After all, it’s not like I can’t just trundle it back to my ship, let the port master know, and be on my way.

“No tariffs, no taxes, no fees. The joys of being granted a familial letter of marque. Bless the Terran Confederation for their kindness.”

Walt blew out a breath, his long mustache fluttering out at the sides.

“A hundred creds a crate is just too much!” whined the man.

“And yet it’s a hundred. For you, at least. I admit I plan on going next door and offering it at a hundred-twenty. You know how Bobby gets. Especially if I told him you balked on the deal and folded,” Ralph confessed, lifting up his left hand and gently tugging at his coat.

It shifted the Privateers badge that rested beside his breast-pocket.

Then he reached down and adjusted his coat at the hem.

I think I need a new coat. This ones gotten worn a bit too much.

Damn space stations.

Always so much dust and debris in the ports.

Sighing, Ralph pointedly ignored looking at his boots. They desperately needed a shine job right now.

Instead, he looked back to Walt.

“Well? I’ve got a few more anointments to make. This is the last of my cargo and you’re my last visit I hope,” Ralph prompted. “I weaseled one of the docking operators to get me an early departure.

“The last thing I want to do is stay here. With the Houses eyeballing one another, the last thing I want is for either of them to eye the Siren.”

Walt hissed, looked away, stomped his feet, then sighed again.

He reached over and snatched up a tablet. He quickly filled something in, stamped his thumb to it, then held it out to Ralph.

Quickly glancing it over, he saw that Walt had entered all the appropriate information. A picture of Ralph was next to his sales-account for the system.

Short light brown hair, pale blue eyes, a smattering or freckles across the bridge of his nose, and a narrow look to his features.

He wasn’t classically handsome. Nor had he been called handsome with any frequency.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been dubbed unattractive either.

Ralph, was at best, someone worth a mild amount of interest from women.

With some charm, a fair amount of effort, and care, Ralph didn’t have an issue getting company.

Short term or long term.

At the moment he was between relationships as he was working over-time.

Despite his complaint about the Houses and their ever ongoing wars, hot and cold, he made a lot of money plying the trade routes because of it.

Right now it was a cold war and he was able to trade in electronics, espionage, and information in large amounts.

Dual purpose home goods that could be stripped for parts to stick inside of weapons or just used by civilians.

Ralph snapped his thumb to the imprint and smiled. Handing the clipboard back to Walt he gestured at the crates.

“Thank you, as ever, for your business Walt,” Ralph said profusely and a dip of his head. “Want me to drop by Bobby’s and let him know I don’t have anything because you bought it from me at a steal?”

Walt snorted, grinned, and tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah, do that. That’d be great,” Walt agreed. “You coming back anytime soon?”

“Heading to the farside actually. I’ve got a port-of-call with the Blood of Calesat. After that I might be rolling toward Faesin but I’m not sure.”

“Fine, fine, as ever, drop by if you’ve got something,” Walt said and waved his hand.

“As ever,” Ralph promised, smiling, then exited the store.

Feeling better for having once against concluded his business at the price he wanted, in the time frame he wanted. Even more so since he had done it through his own contacts, his own lanes, and his own trades.

He despised when he relied on his family name.

Turlan opens fewer doors then ever, but it still does. A shame how much was squandered by my dear Uncle but… that’s a trade long made.

Snapping his fingers, Ralph decided on a shoe-shine and a quick purchase of a jacket.

He didn’t want to think about his Uncle.

Or his father.

Of inheriting little more than the Smiling Siren, the Turlan Astro-Rutter, and a family motto. Everything else had been sold off by his Uncle in his depravity.

With a grunt, Ralph forcibly strangled those thoughts.

Strangled them and pushed them back down into the depths.

Before he knew it his father’s last words bubbled up from those deep places just as it was all put back down. To find Turlan’s Toll.

Stepping quickly, Ralph set out to get that shoe shine.

***

The young man quickly smeared polish all over the left boot, then the right. Rubbing it in briefly into the leather.

They’d already been brushed, cleaned, and a cleaner with conditioner applied.

Ralph regretted having to spend the credits he did on his wardrobe.

While he enjoyed dressing the way he did to manage his image, the cost really was frustrating. Though he couldn’t discount the number of times the image he put forward helped him with his deals.

As was always the case when he got a shoe-shine, he listened to the conversations around him.

Watched those who walked by, what they wore, carried, and who they were with.

Most places where you could get a good shine were places with a lot of traffic.

It was a perfect excuse to watch and listen while being ignored. As most people just dismissed a man looking to be zoned out getting a shoe-shine.

Ralph’s eyes flicked over to a group of people who had a look that set them out from the rest.

Hard eyes, flat mouths, tense brows.

In a civilian port city like Halasen, these types didn’t belong. They were most certainly military of some sort, out of uniform, and prowling about.

It gave Ralph a feeling of unease.

Unease and that that the current cold war was about to slide into a hot war.

He’d heard whispers of it at his last port of call. That there was a lot of troop-movements going on and transport ships shifting closer to the border.

Ralph had genuinely believed he had some time before it kicked off.

Given the look of the individuals here and now, he suddenly thought that maybe he didn’t even have twenty-four hours. That something was going to happen in the next twenty-four minutes.

That or he was just being paranoid.

Which was certainly possible.

The shoe-shine continued, the buffing cloth coming out to snap and flex across his boots. Only to begin putting on the second layer of polish.

Adjusting his coat, Ralph confirmed that his concealed laser pistol was still under his armpit. It was part of a holster that kept it close and tight to his body, but partially behind a layer of his coat.

Another benefit of the Turlan line.

Concealed carry was allowed and expected of those who carried a letter of marque.

Ralph carried two laser pistols. One full sized and a holdout pistol that he kept at the small of his back in the same holster for the other.

“Uhm,” said the shoe-shine man.

“Hm?” Ralph asked.

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Turlan?” asked the shoe-shine man.

“No, Jimmy. Nothing wrong. Though if there was something wrong, you’d probably be best served calling it quits for the day,” Ralph suggested. He had gotten a shoe-shine from Jimmy often. “If there was something wrong. You tell me. Something wrong as of late?”

Jimmy saw a lot.

Saw a lot, said very little, and was missed by many.

Ralph often paid the man triple in the hopes of getting information.

“Ahhh, yes. Yes,” Jimmy agreed. His buffing cloth snapping out again and putting a mirror shine on the boots. “I think I’ll close early today. There’s been a number of people lurking about. Looking for someone. Something.

“They’ve caused a few problems. Maybe they’re just waiting for something. Outsiders. Foreigners.”

“Thanks,” Ralph demurred and pulled at his collars with a pop of his wrists. Jimmy was already packing everything away.

Ralph had paid him and wasn’t going to waste the man’s time or his own. A new coat could wait for later.

Stepping down from the shoe-shine chair Ralph hesitated.

“You good, Jimmy?” he asked, glancing to the man.

He had dark black hair, dark brown eyes, and a demeanor that reminded Ralph of a terminal without power stuck on a wall.

“I’m good. Thanks,” Jimmy said. He tossed all his belongings into the chair slapped a hand to a lever on the side and pulled it.

The shoe-shine chair closed itself up and Jimmy locked it shut. He didn’t say anything more and rushed off, leaving Ralph standing there.

Except, Ralph had hesitated in the end.

He had meant to get going immediately, but had waited for Jimmy.

Who hadn’t hesitated.

So when the men paused as a security force turned the corner, Ralph stared at the two groups.

He saw what was coming.

“Ah fuck,” he said a moment before both sides pulled weapons and began firing at one another. Most of them looked to be ballistic weapons. Firing actual bullets at one another.

Snatching out his laser pistol, Ralph rushed toward the security forces while aiming at the foreigners. Pulling the trigger as he went, Ralph was aiming for a certain look.

A Privateer rushing to aid security forces and looking ever the part of a loyal citizen of the Confed. Because the cameras here would most certainly catch it all.

There were always cameras.

Reaching the security forces, Ralph had no idea if he managed to put anyone down, but that wasn’t his goal.

He was no warrior with unparalleled skill and precision, despite knowing how to handle a sword. Handle a sword and use it quite well, in fact.

Ralph would need a much better name than slang for throwing up to be a warrior the waded into every fight.

Like… Wayne, or something clever.

Ralph snapped his pistol up, sighted it on an enemy who had just literally shoved a dagger into one of the security forces guts, and fired.

The laser took the man in the chest and penetrated quickly and deeply. A red beam appearing out the back of him after a split second.

With a smirk, Ralph sprinted off.

“I’ll notify security!” he called out with as much volume as he could manage.

There wasn’t a need for him to notify security, but it’d fit with his image. Having thrown a few shots at the enemies and then going for reinforcements.

He was just a merchant, after all.

A privateer, sure, but still, just a merchant without his ship.

Sprinting down the hall, Ralph stuffed his pistol back into its holster. There was no reason for him to be rushing down a hall with a weapon. It’d just get him shot.

Smiling with half his mouth, Ralph kept running on.

The port was large.

Very large.

Largest civilian port on the planet of Gin, in fact.

He just had to get to the executive lounge and he could report the attack, get on board the Siren, and get the hell out.

Letting his legs carry him, Ralph felt his coat billow out behind him. It easily reached down to his knees and was somewhat thick.

It helped with long space-routes through the dark. Where even just pushing the thermostate down a degree or two could get you hundreds of credits over hours.

A thick coat only cost you the original purchase and would keep you warm as long as you cared for it.

Ralph’s head snapped to the left as he crossed a terminal hall.

Distantly, he could see laser rounds being fired off.

As well as a Scout class Walker pounding across the tiled floor rapidly.

It was surprisingly not in the security colors he expected.

In fact it looked downright as if it didn’t belong at all.

“Holy fuck! Nah, nah, nah, I ain’t the main character and it’s long past time to go,” hissed Ralph as he ran on.

He reached the port security point and threw his hand back the way he came as the officers there looked to him. They all had strange looks on their faces like they didn’t know what was going on.

“I’m Privateer Ralph Turlan!” stated Ralph. “The port’s under attack! I need to get to my ship!”

He held his badge up where it sat on his coat, looking to the face of the security guard who’d let him through previously into the port.

The man stared at Ralph and gnawed at his lip.

“Under attack?” he murmured.

“I saw a fucking Walker back there. I have no idea what your coms situation is, but you better throw the security in place and take this as a full out attack,” advised Ralph. “Now I’m going to my ship. Any issues?”

The security guards shook their heads and then moved away.

Everyone who was waiting in line eyed Ralph with envy.

Ralph dashed forward again, not bothering to even consider anything else. He very much wanted to be gone.

Standing up and fighting the bad guys was best done by others.

Certainly not Ralph.

Moving ahead at a fast trot, Ralph went past the security point. Moving past a number of scared looking security guards Ralph was heading toward the VIP lounge.

There was little else he wanted to get into, other than his ship.

Or a hot bath.

Reaching the VIP lounge he saw that the security gates were down. Armed guards inside of it were eying him suspiciously.

“Hi! Hi, yes, I’m Privateer Ralph Turlan. I’m here to get on my ship and get the hell out of here. The security forces are fighting in the terminal itself,” he explained, grasping the security gate and giving it a light shake. “Even had a damn Walker.”

“Ah! I’m so… so sorry, Privateer,” apologized a mousy looking woman. She’d stepped out from behind the security guards. “The gate is beyond our control. The port authorities dropped it.

“May I suggest waiting right over there? Our security defense emplacements can cover it very well.”

The woman gestured to a point off to one side that was some type of planter. It had a few trees in it and a bush.

Glancing to the wall above the VIP lounge Ralph did indeed note there were several turrets there. They all appeared to be automated and were slowly swiveling one direction, then back the other.

“Right,” he grumbled and looked over to the cafe not far off.

Shrugging, he decided to get a coffee and a snack. If he was going to be stuck here, he wanted to at least be well prepared for whatever would come his way.

He noted a rather beautiful young woman to one side and then dismissed her.

She had a suitcase beside her and looked to be waiting for someone. Staring at her phone with absolute determination.

Looks like I’m not the only one trying to get out.

Time to be gone indeed.

Damn me for a fool for parking Siren in the VIP lounge’s lot. Now I’m stuck till that gate goes up.

Clicking his tongue, Ralph sauntered right up to the empty line in front of the register. He hit the scared looking clerk with a smile.

“Hey there, could I get a large coffee, a crossant-sausage sandwhich, and… oh, one of those cookies. Those look amazing,” Ralph asked with a grin. He had already grabbed the terminal and turned it his way.

The clerk looked shocked at the sudden question.

All around, everyone else was cowering and hiding behind things.

As if they were under attack right at this moment.

Ralph had been through a number close calls and hairy situations. This ranked somewhere in the middle of his most butt-hole puckering memories.

“What?” asked the clerk.

“Coffee, sandwich, cookie. Oh, shit, is that a frozen-lemonade? I’ll take that, too. Could you also give me an extra large cup, as well?” asked Ralph with a chuckle.

Nodding somewhat woodenly the young woman began filling out the order. Her hands trembling as she went through the process.

“Wouldn’t be too concerned,” Ralph offered and leaned up against the counter. “If House Ginil let Halasen fall or even suffer much damage, they’d end up just about collapsing.

“They might be a minor house, but they’re still a house. There’s no way they could just let it happen like that. You know?”

“Really?” asked the woman, filling the cup with coffee.

“Really. Ginil needs Halasen. Needs it desperately,” Ralph confirmed. “If they lost Halasen, Ginil might as well fold it up, pack it in, and lower their heads and fall in with a bigger house.

“No house ever wants to do that. Because they’re never the same afterward. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

The woman nodded her head again, finishing up with the sandwhich and setting it down. Then she turend and started working on the frozen lemonade and the extra cup.

Ralph picked up the sandwich and immediately started in on it, taking a big bite and enjoying the warmth of it. Chewing it up and quickly taking a heavy gulp of the coffee.

“Actually, throw another coffee in. Caffeine. Gonna need it. This adrenaline will fall off,” Ralph advised, taking another sip of the hot coffee.

The clerk finally finished up the order and tapped at her terminal.

Ralph reached up and thumbed his side of the terminal that would accept his print. He briefly winced when he noticed that he’d left a greasy print behind from the croissant.

She ended up staring at it without saying anything.

Only to reach up and hesitantly tap at it several more times.

Then she slowly looked to him.

“Uhm… it… says there’s no connection,” she murmured as the receipt printed out quickly.

Ralph raised his eyebrows at the words.

To block a connection from a terminal, which went to multiple satelites and communication hubs so that interstellar commerce could continue, was not a good sign.

Not at all.

“I’m sure it’s just an error,” Ralph assured her. He snatched up the receipt paper and quickly scrawled his signature across it. “There’s always comm errors when things like this happen. It’ll be fine in no time at all.

“You’ll see. Just bill me when the time comes. I’m hard to miss! Privateer Ralph Turlan!”

Ralph nodded, finished the first coffee, and set the empty cup to the side. He stuck the cookie in a jacket pocket grabbed the frozen lemonade and the sandwhich with one hand, the coffee in the other, and went over to the planter.

Sitting down there he put his two drinks down and started in on the sandwhich again.

The pretty lady was still staring at her phone, but her brow was furrowed now.

I wonder what—

There was a boom.

Followed by several more.

Then security turrets slammed up from the ground at the check-point he’d gone through earlier, the lights went out, and the emergency lights kicked in.

“Shit,” Ralph said around a mouthful of food.