Into the Black

(Jom Gabbar Tavern, Keen-arra City, kisArra)

Aquaria IV was, to put it bluntly, perhaps the most hostile terrestrial planet to any and all life that wasn’t covered in ever-molten lava (that would be the ironically named Dante, in the Inferno System). Called kisArra by the natives, travelers commonly referred to it as the Sandpit. Of course, there were no true natives of kisArra, since sentient life never developed on the desert planet.

Which is not to say that there were no people who were born, lived, and died without ever leaving the surface of kisArra, or that there weren’t living creatures native to the world. The nomadic Freemen were a tribe of outcasts from the Terran Empire who had come here centuries ago, fleeing through the Gateway before its uses were completely understood. They had risked everything to escape the Empire’s growing persecution, and had found a desert world awaiting them. They managed to create a life for themselves, living in the desert, practicing their strange religion, a combination of Sunni and Zen beliefs.

When a group of six walked into the bar, wearing Freemen-style desert suits, most just assumed that they were Freemen. Which meant that most of the people in Keen-arra were not pleased to see them. To the city-dwellers, Freemen were little more than bandits, wholly uncivilized since they chose willingly to live in the deserts. Some of the local toughs, drunk off the cheap liquor (pure water was the most expensive drink on the planet), decided that they would show these native scum who was boss.

That plan got changed quickly when the newcomers shifted their cloaks, and the crowd could see that all but one of them were female. Of course, their plan still involved showing the natives who was boss, but only involved beating the shit out of the guy, while taking the women someplace more ‘comfortable’.

The toughs got up, and started heading for the group, when they saw the man placing his hand on the hilt of a weapon. Looked like they were going to get some fun before they played with the girls! Grinning to eachother, the two humans, four gauz, and three ihm males got ready to play. Which is when everyone heard the distinct sound of the bolt slamming home on a long gun.

Arv k’Tea (AKA: Kiki)

Felisan Female

Level 20

Titles: Armorer, Guardian, Scratch-Builder, Customizer, Sniper

Sitting at the back table, with a big ass rifle that looked like you could hunt tanks with, was a little slip of a thing, dressed all in black. She was a Felisan, a species that looked for all the world like a furry-lover’s dream come true. And when she spoke, it was in a clear, commanding voice. The fact that the gun was set up with its bipod on the table, pointing at the toughs helped with the ‘commanding’ part. “Now, we were all here having a nice, friendly drink. And so long as everything stays friendly, Kilo here won’t have to get loud. Now, is there going to be a problem?”

As the focus of the toughs turned to the new participant, the man in the ‘Freemen’ group carefully stepped to the side, so he was no longer in the same line as the big rifle’s barrel. One of the ihm, the biggest of the lot (and probably the leader, but definitely the drunkest, as he had no fear of the rifle pointed his way) snarled at the Felisan. The big lizardman was clearly aching for some sport. “Keep out of this, bitch. We’re just going to show these scum what we think of their lot here. Don’t be getting involved if you don’t want to be part of the ‘fun’ later on.”

That last was accompanied by a rude gesture with the ihm’s hips, and the laughter of his friends. Unfortunately, both the gesture and the laughter were cut short when a mighty roar came from the back of the bar. There was a moment of silence as the ihm stared at the fist-sized hole in his chest, just before his heart fell down into the open air, and he collapsed. Behind him, there was a brief cloud of red mist, as the bullet had continued through the ihm’s body, and the now-vaporized head of the gauz male standing behind him, and the door to the bar, and buried itself quite messily inside the engine of the transport the toughs had parked outside before they began drinking their fill.

As the two remaining ihm began to growl, there was a snap and a buzzing sound along with a flash of light. In an instant, the two ihm howled in pain and shame as they suffered the most humiliating thing an ihm male could, having their tail cut off. The toughs looked at the man holding the glowing energy blade in one hand, and a psyber pistol in the other. The girls all had assault rifles in their hands, and were aiming them at the remaining toughs.

Then the man spoke for the first time since he entered. His voice clearly wasn’t one of the Freemen (the accent was all wrong), but it was hard to place beyond ‘Terran’. “The lady said to keep things friendly. Now, I would suggest you all get very friendly with the outside air. Otherwise we’re all going to have to be a mite bit unfriendly.”

The toughs looked at eachother, and at the ihm, who were clearly the leaders of this muscle-brained group, and decided that they’d had a day of it. When they reached down to grab their fallen friends, though, the man stopped them. “Uh, uh, uh. You’ll be leaving them right where they lay. The lady’s got first pick of their loot. When she’s done, you can pick up the bodies in the street.”

The two ihm tried to grab their tails, and the man pointed his gun at them. “And you two leave those tails. You want them to try and get them reattached? You gotta pay for it. Strip off your gear, and toss it in a pile. You can grab the tails when you’re bare-scaled and walk out of here with your friends to find a medic. Or you can leave them, but you know a replacement is going to cost enough that you’ll be without your tails for over a year. Your choice.”

The ihm considered, and then began grumbling as they began piling their gear next to their tails. They weren’t happy, not in the slightest, but more than one patron in the bar had to stifle a laugh as they watched the two powerfully built aliens stagger slightly as they tried to keep from falling over without their tails to balance them. When they had stripped to their scales, the two picked up their tails, and followed after their friends.

By this point, the Felisan had quietly looted what she wanted from the two she had killed, so the man and one of his companions picked up the ihm, while another two of the women grabbed the gauz, and threw the corpses through the doorway like sacks of wheat. Turning to the bartender, the man transferred some credits, and shouted, “FIRST ROUND’S ON THOSE GUYS!” The prospect of a free drink went a long way to improving the impressions of those in the bar about the recent ‘unpleasantness’. The bartender, knowing that the barflies wouldn’t be able to stop at the single drink, gave only a cursory scowl at the hole in the door, before letting it go. There’d be enough people coming to hear the story (and buy drinks) in the next week that the door would pay for itself.

The Felisan moved back to the table where she’d been sitting, her rifle still on the table in the booth. Unsurprisingly, the six moved to join her at the table. They were each holding drinks, with the man holding two, one of which he put down in front of the catwoman. “Thanks for the assist. That would have ended up a lot bloodier if you hadn’t put some shock and awe into them.”

Looking up at the man who still had his suit mask on, Kiki considered, and then waved for the group to sit with her. “You were certainly more capable than I expected. You could probably have taken them all.”

The man nodded. “True. But there would be a lot more damage than some blood stains and busted door. And it would have been difficult to keep from dragging the rest of the people into it, which wouldn’t do anyone any favors.”

There was a pause, as he looked ‘Kilo’ over. “This is a beautiful weapon. Don’t see too many high level people using slug throwers once they can afford the psyber guns.”

Kiki grimaced. “Psyber guns are nice for not having moving parts, sure, but they’re vulnerable to dampening fields, EMPs, and other nastiness. Plus, you can do a lot with ballistics that you can’t with energy weapons.”

One of the women laughed. “Like having your shot go through the first two guys, the door, and into a vehicle outside.”

Kiki grinned at the one to talk. “Yeah, something like that. Of course, close quarters isn’t really what Kilo is designed for, but sometimes a big sound and a bigger hole makes more of an impression, you know?”

The man nodded. “I used to be Navy, before I was a Nomad. Missiles are nice, but there’s something about a big gun that just speaks to you. So, if I was looking to get a rifle like Kilo, where would I go looking?”

“Hah! You wouldn’t. There’s only one Kilo, and I built him myself from scratch. Some repurposed parts from older weapons, but mostly made new on a fabricator and assembled by hand.”

That got the man’s attention, and he began taking off his mask, breaking the seal that kept the desert out of the suit, while keeping the moisture in, for recycling purposes. Kiki’s nose twitched at the common stench of ‘suit smell’. The Felisans were quite nimble, especially with their fingers, but the enhanced sense of smell didn’t always do her any favors.

The man noticed, and shrugged. “Sorry, just got in after a week in the desert. Big hunt. Could have used a beauty like Kilo on our side. Anyways, if you scratch-built a weapon like that, I might have a proposition for you.”

Kiki groaned silently. How many people just wanted her to build the biggest and baddest guns they could get, without any appreciation for the workmanship involved? She was about to decline, when the guy continued. “My crew and I are often moving from place to place. Sure, we know enough to maintain our weapons, but if we need a rebuild with new parts fabbed, or something new? Then we’re rookies. I don’t like leaving my crew’s lives in the hands of our best effort if there is better around.”

That got her attention. A leader that thought about the good of his crew was pretty rare, especially amongst Nomads. Now that she got a chance to look at them without their masks, the guy and one of the women looked pretty familiar… “What is the proposition, and who might you be?”

The man grinned, and said, “Well, the proposition is pretty simple. I reckon that the reason you’re here on this dustball instead of a cushy core world is that you’re not looking to break into the top tiers of the business world, but instead to have fun while honing your craft. I’ve got a ship, and we’re set to be moving out soon. Would be great to have someone to maintain, and hopefully upgrade, our gear. We’ve got a kick-ass mechanic,” the knelfi girl blushed at that, “but she’s best with vehicles, not weapons and armor. Sure, she could slap something together, but it wouldn’t be the same as having someone who knows the job do it.”

“You have my attention.”

“Great! So here’s the deal. Fly with us. Passenger, but paying your way with work, helping out by maintaining our armory, and supplying any new weapons and armor you can come up with. You get to see the stars, we get gear that will keep us breathing so we can keep doing jobs and making money. And if you decide that it is time to settle down someplace and start a shop, or a family, or whatever, you just let us know, and we’ll see if there isn’t some way to help.”

The man took a long sip of his whiskey, and said, “As for who I am, that’d be Captain Mirikon Mollen, of the Starlight Raven. And yes, I can see in your eyes you recognize the name. Can’t think of a better way to get your name out there than to join up with a notorious outlaw, can you?” And then he grinned.