S.S. Fawkes - CF-142AC
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You're Kidding Me

Posted on Wednesday April 8th, 2020 @ 16:31 hours by Gregory Alein

Mission: Safe Passage
Location: Various


With the final preparations in place, Greg only had a few things to take care of before he set to leave the station. As he walked down the corridor to his temporary quarters on the station, he couldn’t help but think of all the reasons he’d given up ship life. Yet, here he was walking back into that life and in a role that he had sworn never to fill again. He couldn’t help but see the irony in all this. “Just couldn’t say no, could ya,” he said out loud to no one in particular. As he approached the door, something was off. He couldn’t tell what, but something inside him was screaming to stop.

Greg noted the panel outside the doorway had been tampered with; it was careless and somewhat sloppy. No doubt, whoever had played with it was trying to bypass security proposals. That should have been his first clue, but Greg was stubborn and didn’t want to deal with the station's security staff. He stepped into the room and saw a small figure digging through what was left of his personal effects. Honestly, there wasn’t much left but a few odds and ends that Greg hadn’t gathered yet. “If you’re looking for the good stuff,” he stated rather sternly, “it’s not in that box.”

The figure stood up, no doubt trying to appear larger than he was, “I don’t want no trouble,” this deep voice filled the space. “I was told the area was open, just seeing what the former tenant left behind.

Greg looked at the figure. Something was definitely off, “space was open?" Greg looked behind him, "is that why the door was tampered with? You did a terrible job of that, too.”

“Hey,” the deep voice cracked a bit, clearly whoever was speaking was trying to sound more menacing than he truly was. “I did the best I could,” the figure stated; this time, the voice was neither intimidating nor threating.

Greg reached up, grabbing the figure by his shoulder and spun him around, “Jesus kid,” he muttered, “what are you like 15, 16,” he scolded.

“I’m,” he coughed, “19,” he corrected Greg.

“Sure you are,” Greg laughed, reaching inside the boy’s jacket, “I’ll take that back,” he pulled a few mementos out of the coat pockets, “you know these aren’t worth much, right?” Grasping the boy’s shoulder, a bit firmer, “what’s your name,” he demanded?

“Ryan,” Ryan pulled his arm free as he tugged on his jacket, “just looking for a few things to pawn.” He tried to stand up straighter as if he was trying to size Greg up. The boy had no clue what he was doing, as he tried to pull off a good bluff.

Greg looked at Ryan and laughed, shoving him into the chair behind him. “I am half tempted to call security and turn you….”

Panic filled the boy’s eyes, “no, you can’t do that...” Ryan reached inside his jacket pocket and started pulling out the rest of the items he’d stolen. “Here, take it back,” he tossed then onto the floor, “it’s just a bunch of crap anyway.”

Greg picked up the items and tossed them into the nearby box; the kid wasn’t wrong. Honestly, everything he’d taken wouldn’t fetch anything. “One man’s trash is another man’s,” Greg stopped and eyed the kid, “why you little shit…” Greg pulled the boy up to a standing position as he forcefully and somewhat abruptly removed the jacket the kid was wearing. Placing a hand in the middle of his chest, Greg shoved him into the chair, “this,” he held up the jacket, “was given to me by a very dear friend…” He couldn’t help but yell at the kid. “What kind of person…” Greg was floored, “I mean, you come in here and start...”

Fear started to set in as the older man went off about Security and life in the brig. He knew he needed to get away from here. He couldn’t remain on the station. Ryan tried to stand up and reason with the man, but every time he did, Greg just pushed him back into the chair, spouting some bullcrap about responsibility and respect. Ryan didn’t need to hear that; he needed a ticket off this station. “Listen, old man; you got your crap,” he smirked. “Let me go...”

Honestly, the last thing Greg truly wanted was to deal with the station security; he’d had several run-ins with them since he arrived. Honestly, his only goal was to get the rest of his stuff and get off this station. Call it the fear of a new role, or a temporary case of insanity, but Greg lifted the kid off the chair and tossed him into the corridor, “get out of here,” he demanded, “and try not breaking into people’s rooms for a while." Taking a swing, Greg kicked the kid while he attempted to stand up.

Greg fumed and boiled as he gathered the rest of his belongings, tossing them somewhat haphazardly into a nearby duffle Gathering up the rest of his stuff, he headed down the corridor to the civilian transport area. His new life was ahead of him, he was still uncertain about this job, but the Captain seemed to have some faith in him, and frankly, he needed it. He was whistling to himself as he walked, passing the spot where he had previously met the odd Scientist. He hoped that would work out and didn't cause problems for the Fawkes' Engineer. Suddenly a voice caught Greg’s attention as he stopped in his tracks.

“Look, I just need a ticket off this hell hole,” Ryan stated as he held up a pocket watch. The antique was dated and something out of time and place. No one used watches of any form. But the item was worth something, to someone, right? “I don’t have a lot, and I can work off my travel. Look, the watch is plated in some sort of gold, I think…” Ryan was clearly nervous.

Greg stood several feet behind the kid, as he dropped his bag on the ground, “why that little brat.”

The Bolian took the watch from Ryan as he looked over it, "thing looks real but rather useless.” He flipped it open, “Greg Happy 30th Birthday, all my love brother Neil,” the Bolian read the engraving. Tossing the watch, “come back up here when you got something worth trading, kid.”

Ryan bent over, picking up the watch, as he cursed under his breath. Tucking the watch into his pocket, he was about to leave when something, or someone, grabbed his shoulder. “Hey,” he grabbed at the fingers, “let me go.”

“I thought you gave me all my crap,” he emphasized the word, “back,” Greg smiled. Greg reached inside the pocket and took the watch back, “you know, I might just make an exception, for you.” Greg spun the boy around, “I truly hate the security here, but I’m starting to think…” Greg looked past the boy to see several figures rummaging through the bag he’d dropped. “What the hell,” Greg sighed as he saw a figure dart down the walkway wearing his jacket. As the last of his belongings took off in several different directions, Greg was rapidly growing tired of this kid.

“Looks like you found that transport after all,” Greg smiled, still pissed, “cause you’re paying me back for all that stuff,” he pointed to his bag that was now in the arms of someone running in the opposite direction. “Welcome to the Fawkes, kid!” Holding firmly to Ryan’s collar, Greg was going to make sure the kid worked and worked hard. The kid was right, it wasn’t much, but it was all Greg had. He didn’t know the kid’s story, but something was going on and while the kid was travelling with the crew, Greg was going to make it his goal to figure out what.

The kid smiled, “great, awesome… can I have my shirt back,” he tried to pull free of Greg’s grip.

“No,” he stated. “Not 'till we’re at warp.”


Greg Alein
First Mate


Ryan Thall
PNPC: Alein


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