Privateer's Commission -ch 16- (Patreon)

Ralph watched as the person who had just shot the ganger, turned their pistol around, and shot another one. This time in the chest.

Several more rounds went off rapid fire before a third gang member had drawn their own firearm and returned fire.

The man was already diving to cover at this point.

Surprisingly, several other people had also drawn guns at this point and were now shooting at the gangers. As if the whole thing was organized and deliberate.

Fucking shit!

Ralph flipped the table before anyone at it could even respond.

By the time he had acted a plan had already formed on what he needed to do and how to do it.

This was a concerted attack and not just something that happened randomly.

Certainly not a bar-fight that he was used to, or expected, at a place like this.

In flinging the table as he had, chips had been thrown about wildly.

Along with all the drinks that’d been atop it.

Even as the room descended into gunfire being flung about in every direction, there were those who were far more concerned with the money. Scrabbling at it as it flew through the air and then chasing after it when it hit the ground.

The crash of bottles was quiet compared to the ongoing gunfight.

There was no way that the gang would be losing this fight which meant all Ralph had to do was find a corner to hunker down in. To get out of the way and let them do their thing.

As Ralph slid between tables, kept low in a crouch, and dashed for the stairs that led up to the second floor, he found someone with a sword waiting for him. As if they were expecting people to try and leave and didn’t want that.

Dressed in common clothes with a sword that looked worth more than what they wore the man already had locked eyes with Ralph.

What the hell is going on!

Are they after the gangers or not?

“Just wanna get by,” Ralph tried as he came close to the person. “I got no problems with anyone here and was just passing through.”

In response the man with the sword smiled grimly at him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yanking his sword free Ralph pulled it up in a defensive stance. The other man’s sword was much wider and heavier than his. Ralph would need to parry without full contact or dodge outright any attacks that came his way.

“Now why don’t you—”

The man intrerupted himself by suddenly thrusting out at Ralph. The heavy swordtip moving quite swiftly through the air.

Thankfully since Ralph had prepared himself, he was ready to receive the attack. Stepping outward Ralph also turned to the side and brought his sword across himself in a guard. Pushing the opponents blade out of the way.

Twisting his wrist around, Ralph stomped forward and brought his sword around in an flicked slash. The angle was awkward but it was an attack he was comfortable performing.

Ralph’s sword hit the man in the collar and went downward. There wasn’t much force behind the attack given the way he’d launched it, but it was more than enough to part flesh.

The man’s neck was gashed and blood began to flow down. Unfortunately Ralph had missed anything vital and the lack of power behind it hadn’t gone deep enough, either.

A grimace flashed on the man’s face as he stumbled away from the strike.

No sooner than his feet were planted than he charged forward at Ralph again. His sword held in two hands.

Any type of training the man had was gone in his panic at being wounded. By and large it was a normal reaction to being in a fight.

As wounds piled up, people got sloppy.

Panicked.

Afraid.

Ralph of course was afarid.

He was almost always afraid.

The only thing that kept him check was his upbringing and the tools Park had given him to fight it down.

Fear wasn’t something to be avoided or done without.

It was part and parcel to the human condition.

One just had to learn to combat it and not let it control one’s actions.

Smiling, Ralph leapt backward. Putting himself out of range of the wild swing.

Unlike shows or stories that Marionette enjoyed, when someone over-comitted to an attack, they weren’t able to just retract their weapon.

To magically whip it around and block.

The fight was over in the next instant as Ralph stuck his sword right into the man’s side. Passing neatly between the ribs and puncturing at least one lung.

Ralph pulled the sword back out and rushed forward at the same time. He needed to get out of this area immediately.

Coming down the stairs toward him was a man with a rifle and it was already leveled at him. Clearly ready to mow Ralph down.

As his leading foot hit the ground, Ralph threw himself sideways. Not even trying to do anything other than just get out of the way.

The rifle followed him and let loose as it did.

Surprisingly, it was a burst-fire laser. Short beams being shot forth in a strange rapid-fire flash that left Ralph feeling partially blinded.

A number of those shots struck the man Ralph had stabbed as Ralph crossed in front of them. More than two punched right through in fact.

As soon as it happened the man jerked their rifle up, eyes widening in shock at having shot the other individual.

Apparently they were well known to one another.

Ralph hit the ground, snatched out his laser pistol and put several quick shots into the man with the rifle.

Unfortunately, one struck him in the forehead and was stopped outright. Bones were just too dense for the vast majority of laser pistols.

Two other shots struck true in the torso thankfully.

None of the shots that hit him, pierced him, however.

Nonethless, the man dropped to the ground and began to writhe on the floor.

Laying there Ralph was between a chair and an upturned table. No one seemed to be around him and no one had eyes on him either.

Sword in one hand, pistol in the other, Ralph began to scoot toward the stairs again. Scooching along on his back and wondering just how all of this had been happening to him lately.

Well, Rio will be tickled that this happened. Just the other day she was asking if bar-fights actually happened with pirates.

Nodding his head Ralph reached the end of his cover.

Looking around he contemplated what to do next.

A woman slammed into the ground next to him and dropped a bottle of what looked like Mirkil brandy. It rolled toward Ralph as the woman jumped to their feet, screamed, and ran back the way they’d come from.

The brandy began spilling as the cap was missing.

Ralph dropped his pistol, sntached it up, and took a long pull from the bottle.

Letting such a fine liquor go to waste without even tasting it sounded ridiculous.

With a negligent flick of his hand he flung the bottle toward the far wall where the entrance likely was. Grabbing up his pistol he flipped around to his hands and knees.

Looking to the stairs he saw that the way was clear.

Getting up in a crouch he glanced around.

And just as quickly flung himself at the ground.

A flaming bottle of some type of spirit slammed into the wall under the stairs and flames roared to life. Immediately they began licking their way up toward the stairs and rooms above.

“Holy fuck,” Ralph groaned as he pushed himself up again. Taking a quick peek around the table he saw a large man with bulging muscles casually smash the woman’s head in he saw earlier.

He was kitted out in ganger armor and colors and looked extremely non-pleased.

In the next moment, Ralph had a number of barrels, a sword tip, and a butter-knife, all brandished at him from varying distance.

“Ha ha… ah… ha… was just… just here for a brandy and a few games of cards,” Ralph tried, slowly moving his hands up and holding them above his head.

Behind him, the stairs collapsed on themselves with a clatter and a boom. Several chunks of wood flew past Ralph and one of them even slapped into the table next to him.

***

Ralph was shoved into the cell and the gate was slammed shut behind him. Clanging loudly and making the ground vibrate.

Sighing, he looked to the inhabitants of the cell he’d be spending his time with.

This wasn’t the first time he had ended up in a cell.

Nor was it probably his last.

Whenever you ended up in a cell while in the corridor you could expect to pay a fine and sometimes be told not to ever come back. Corridor stations weren’t in the business of executions or hold you for long.

They just wanted their blood money and to get you off quickly.

There were at least forty people in the cell with him, which was rather shocking. Using his past experiences as a template, this was just about as crowded as it could get.

Scanning the faces he tried to pick out anyone that’d be a problem for him.

Given that the gangers had taken all his posessions off him, even his hold out blaster, he didn’t have much in the way of weapons.

Other than his sharp wit, guile, and charisma.

In other words I’m defenseless.

Ralph blinked, then swung his eyes back to a familiar face.

Or at least, he thought it was a familiar face.

The lack of makeup and looking considerably younger for it had tripped Ralph up momentarily. He was pretty sure he’d spotted Deliliah on the back wall, hunched into herself, head resting against the corner.

There was even an open spot right next to her that just about called Ralph over.

Because if it was Delilah he could maybe get some information about what the heck was going on. What’d happened in the bar, both bars for that matter, was out of the ordinary for the Corridor.

Keeping his arms close to himself, weaving through the masses, Ralph did his best to look like someone who didn’t matter. Right now he didn’t need anyone paying him attention.

To the point that he’d already pulled off his Privateer badge and Blood Commission badge and stuck them in a pocket.

The gangers had noticed it when he’d emptied his pockets but then let him into the cell with them, for some reason.

Realistically they should’ve taken it from him but after seeing it them they didn’t seem to want to even touch them.

Given that the waitress knew who I was, I suppose me being a Privateer for both the Confed and the Blood is spreading.

Corridor is the corridor, you can hear anything said on either end of it after all.

The rumor mill itself.

Walking right up to what he was now positive was Delilah, Ralph pulled his jacket closer to himself, sighed, and then plopped himself down right next to her. Putting his hip right up to hers.

“Well, shit, Delilah,” Ralph murmured and turned to face the stunned looking woman. “I mean, I admit I wanted to see you again, but I didn’t think it’d be in jail.

“Wait, would that make it a conjugal visit? If so… whose? Mine? Yours? If we say it’s mine, does that mean we get to have one for you later on?”

Delilah blinked twice, then shook her head as if to make him vanish, and stared at him again.

“Ralph,” she croaked out.

“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t throw up right here, but if you gotta do it, do it. I’d offer to hold your hair back but,” Ralph paused and gestured to her hair. One side was still shaved. “I mean, I can hold one side back for you? Could hold your ear back? I’ve always been told ears aren’t handles though.”

Letting out a slow breath Delilah then snorted, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“And what’re you in for?” she asked.

“Bar fight. I went to your bar first. You weren’t there. No one was there,” Ralph explained in a quiet voice. “Then went to another bar. Whole lotta bad happened and people literally were there to kill gang members. They killed everyone who was in the fight other than me.

“I think? Maybe some others lived. I didn’t see any though. I did kill two of them myself so maybe that’s why I’m not dead.”

“Probably,” Delilah agreed. “Station’s got a problem. New gang wants to take over. Using the other gang’s complacency against them.

“Anyone even suspected of being involved ends up here or a few other cells. I’ve been here for… a few days now. I think. It blends together after a while.”

Well.

That explains some of it.

“Pretty sure I had people following me,” Ralph added. “People knew who I was, too.”

“Oh? Huh. Maybe they think you’re the tin-star. Someone at the bar was there to get a few bounties I guess,” muttered Delilah. “They think it was Jack but… Jack’s been here forever. I really don’t see how it could be him. But he’s also missing and he didn’t leave the station that they know so… maybe?”

Ralph smiled at that, even going so far as to make sure his eyes crinkled at the edges. He wanted Delilah to absolutely think he believed her statement.

Now that he was looking at her up close, without makeup, and her likely not getting much rest, he could see a lot of things that stood out.

Delilah was well cared for.

Her complexion was great, her teeth were perfect and straight, her hair didn’t have the look of being burnt from repeated color dyes or exposure to bad environments.

Her tattoos were clean and dark as if they were done fairly recently. They were also expensive and drawn very well.

For someone as young as she was, there would be no reason for her to be here on this station unless she wanted to be here.

Her youth didn’t match the way she carried herself, responded to him at the bar or now, or even how she asserted a demeanor that didn’t fit.

Right now, he was beyond positive that she was the tin-star.

A non-government yet sponsored individual likely sent by the Confed to reign in specific people and wrangle them into Confed space. All while the Confed itself kept itself clean with a plausible deniability.

“You think so?” he asked with a chuckle. “Well, I can assure you he wasn’t on my ship.”

Delilah smiled back at him, then shrugged her shoulders.

“I dunno. I’m just some stupid bartender who got caught up in something dumb,” she grumbled. She laid her head back down on the wall.

Ralph had a sudden idea that felt equal parts genius and idiotic.

“I mean, that’s fair. I’m sure I’ll get out of here soon. Got a job to do. Blood hired me as a Privateer, too. Now I just need a crew,” Ralph said, then stuck his head on Delilah’s shoulder. He was figuring she was his age or older at this point with a generous amount of longevity work done. “If I find that tin-star, I’d offer him… or her… a job. I bet they’d be great for an information network on where to find the best targets.

“Though I’d have to find him… or her… find her… and make her a job offer. You know, before the station got a hold of her. Because they don’t like tin-stars.

“At all.

“To the point that some Corridor stations even have spies in the Confed. Beyond that, I’ve heard Corridor station leaders even share information about tin-stars.

“As a Privateer I tend to just get ignored since I’m not worth the effort. That and… well… I moonlight as a smuggler, haha. There’s always one way or another to bribe your way out.

“Pretty sure I’ll have to bribe my way out of this, too.

“Now I just gotta find that tin-star, make her an offer, and see if she’s willing to sign on. Though, it’d likely be a contract to last a few years. I’m on contract to the Blood so… she’d be on contract to the Blood.”

Delilah was staring at him out of the corner of her eye.

Then she snorted, let out a grunt, and turned her head a bit to face him more directly.

“Your teeth are amazing,” Ralph remarked, meeting her eyes. “Amazing. Perfect, even. Lovely teeth. Bet it was expensive to get them so… perfect.”

A slow sigh was Delilah’s response to that.

“I was thinking something like… a crew-mate’s wages depending on her specialty. If it was intelligence like I’m thinking, an officer’s share and wages. Because being a Privateer makes a lot of money you know,” Ralph mused, holding her gaze. “Beyond that, I’m sure the details could be worked out. But hey, hard part over. I found her.

“What do you think though? Think she’d want a contract like that? Because I’d have to probably act fast and make a bribe before they find her. Which… they probably would.”

“Yeah,” Delilah got out in a murmur, her mouth becoming a flat line. “Not going to make her a ships-mistress are you?”

“No. I already have one. I don’t need another,” Ralph stated, then grinned at her. “Is that a yes?”

“I’d be willing to say she would agree,” Delilah confirmed. “Three years, officers wages, officer’s share. Intelligence officer. And… drones.”

“Ooou, drones. Fascinating. Fascinating,” Ralph murmured, then grinned at Delilah. He deliberately pushed himself much closer to her. “For now, I’m going to just put on a bit of an act that I’m trying to make the pretty bar-back my pet. Do forgive me. You can look aggrieved if you wish. I don’t mind.

“Also, do you happen to know a Curtis? Curtis Fin? Doctor of some note. I originally came here to hire him onto my crew.

“Found an intelligence officer on a lucky break it seems and she might be able to tell me where this other person is.”

With a small nod of her head, Delilah continued to stare at him. Then she lifted her arm up, stuck it around his shoulders, and pulled him in close to herself.

“People know me. I’m not a wilting flower. I wouldn’t be pressured by you, but I woudn’t let a man casually close either. This’ll look better for when you bribe me out of here,” she whispered as her arm went limp around him. “Curtis is in the slum. Been there for a while.”

“Great. There’s two. Now I just need a few more,” Ralph mused, then stuck his hand on Delilah’s bare knee. “Have I told you about my ships-mistress? Her name is Marionette. She’s an actress and model. We met at—”