Hope you guys enjoy this chapter of The Stellar Wild. Let me know what you think in the comments about this second installment, and if you haven't read the first chapter, you can check it out here. Stay posted for Chapter 3!
Joshua Cole sat in his quarters, staring at his console screen and quietly murmuring to himself. Their finances weren't in much better shape now than when they had set out to track down Galis Paraken. Aside from the unenviable task of trying to manhandle a 200 kilogram evolved avian-reptile out of a holding cell, down a cargo ramp, and to the security station about a kilometer up the road from the spaceport, he'd had to deal with a security chief that wanted to stiff him on the commission for returning Paraken alive. Plus, there were all the repairs to the XS-7, which he'd taken to calling the Egret, and buying more ammunition for the Hound's chainguns. After everything was said and done, they were left with a measly 8,000 GCU. It was barely enough to refuel and pocket some of the earnings for something to eat. Just like every day, right? He shook his head and stood from his chair, leaving his well-worn leather jacket on the back of it and stepping out onto the command deck.
"Still as poor as ever, aren't we, Cole?" Edward sat at the co-pilot's chair, looking out the across the command console and at the stars. They were in orbit around Telus as he waited for Cole to decide their next destination.
"Hmph. Not as ever. Besides, I got a good deal on rations," Cole retorted, boots thunking quietly as he walked across the bare aluminum floor and slid into the pilot's chair beside Edward, "and since you're much cheaper to keep upright and in shape than I am, we're actually in pretty good shape."
"It cost us 12,000 to repair the XS-7," Edward replied, turning his head toward his fearless captain, who looked just a little less fearless today in a rumpled gray t-shirt and olive-drab cargo pants. He'd needed new clothes for years, but he'd insisted on wearing out what he had until it was unsuitable. Cole shot him a look.
"If I wanted to a refresher on the ledger, you walking toaster, I'd go back to my cabin and check it," he returned, sighing and reaching for a cup of coffee that he'd set on the console half an hour ago. By now it was cold, but he drank it anyway, grimacing the whole way.
"Better than being a slowly decaying flesh-sack," Edward returned. Cole snickered a little.
"You know, Ed, part of your charm is that you can deliver insults at me in that same polite tone you have for everything else," he said, taking another awful sip of sludge. "One of the many reasons I keep you around."
"That, and I'm a better pilot than you and can translate information several orders of magnitude faster than you can," Edward replied, tilting his head. Being a particular kind of android, his head resembled an auto-loader in a spaceport, which made him incapable of imitating facial expressions. He had no face, so he had become supremely gifted with the nuances of tone and speech. Occasions like this, though, led him to maintain a cordial, polite tone through the entirety of their banter. The juxtaposition of his tone and the actual content of their dialogue amused him greatly.
"I love you too, buddy," Cole replied, looking up at the console as a blue light began to blink on the holographic screen. Tapping a few buttons, he brought up the messenger. "Huh. It says here I have an incoming message from the UTS. It's Caldwell."
Edward straightened up in his chair. They'd been burned before by the United Terran Systems, and this guy Caldwell in particular once, and he wasn't keen on doing it a second time. "Remember what happened the last time you did a favor for this Caldwell guy?"
"Yeah yeah, I know, but c'mon. I'm sure they'll pay us this time," Cole replied weakly, sliding his hand through his thick chestnut hair and rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw it on the net. The Parliament passed a budget just this last fall, so I know they have the funding to pay us."
Edward would have shot him a look if he could have, but Cole ignored his android companion and highlighted the message. On their console screen, an image flickered to life. It was a man in his late 20's, a few years younger than Cole was, dressed in UTS military fatigues. He smiled a fake smile, clapping his hands together.
"Well if it isn't my favorite odd couple," Caldwell said, chuckling a little. Cole straightened in his chair, his countenance hardening. Whether or not he was willing to take whatever contract Caldwell was going to be slinging their way, he didn't much care for him. He'd dealt with guys like that before in life; they were the military recruiters of the galaxy. They were always quick to front-load the offer and fail to deliver on the back end. With a fake smile and greasy palms, they shook your hand all the way to the incinerator, where they kicked you in head first. Just like the government, Cole thought. "Have you two been having fun out there?"
"Oh tons," Cole deadpanned. "It's a regular fucking carnival out here. What do you want, Caldwell."
"How are you going to greet an old friend like that," he said, faking a hurt look.
"Old friends generally pay when they ask you for a favor," quipped Cole. "Especially when they offer to pay you for the favor." He tightened his hands into fists on either side of his torso, keeping his arms crossed over his chest and his posture bolt-straight.
"Oh don't get me on that. It was a budget financing issue; you know how Parliament is. Besides," Caldwell said, "I'm just out here trying to serve humanity's interests in the galaxy." Cole couldn't resist the urge to do it, so he turned to Edward and made air quotes as Caldwell repeated his tired old line of doing the right thing for humanity. This caused the UTS military liaison to falter, and his real self shone through for just a second; hard-nosed and not one to care what happened to a couple of losers that were barely scraping by. "Look, I've got a charter for you. Do you want to discuss it or not? I've got a dozen other calls to make after you."
"What, another con-job through restricted Silar space that you can dump on us and wash your hands of?" Edward was pleased with Cole's tone. That had been a narrow escape that they'd ended up paying out of pocket, all thanks to the good will of Lieutenant Commander Christopher J. Caldwell.
"Nothing that complicated," Caldwell returned. "It's a transport charter for the Naval Intelligence Division. An intelligence analyst needs a trip through the Nether and we're short-handed on transport craft."
"A transport charter. For an NID desk jockey," Cole repeated flatly, staring at Caldwell as though to ask him if he really thought they were that stupid. "What aren't you telling me Caldwell?"
"Nothing, I swear," came the reply, and for Caldwell's part, he looked convincingly honest in his reply. "We're not trying to send UTS transports that direction with pirate activity up in the region, so command wanted to go with an independent contractor. I like you boys a lot, but let's face it: humanity is less keen on losing a bunch of brave men and women in uniform than they are some no-name security contractors. Besides, the pay out is good."
That last bit hit a little harder for Cole than it should have, and his eyes narrowed sharply. Edward interjected himself into the conversation, trying to avoid having Cole lose his composure. He didn't trust the UTS or Caldwell as far as he could throw either of them, but Edward was certain of one thing: they weren't in a position to turn down paying work. "What's the payout?"
"250,000 GUC, with an additional 50,000 on the recommendation of the analyst after you get to your destination," Caldwell replied. The two independent contractors looked at each other, then back at the screen, eyeballing Caldwell incredulously. "It's all in the charter details. I'll transmit them for your master signatures once we're done on the call. C'mon; why not do some good for the good guys?"
"Alright alright," Cole finally exclaimed, shaking his head. "Send it over and we'll get it signed."
"Just keep thinking of that payday, Cole. It's been nice talking to you, boys!" With that, the video screen closed and, in its place, a contract window opened up, detailing the charter and the terms of agreement. Sure enough, Caldwell hadn't been exaggerating. The pay was guaranteed to be 250,000 GUC. Cole reached out to pick up his coffee mug. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Edward shaking his angular, boxy head back and forth, visual sensors focusing and re-focusing.
"We should turn this down, Cole," he insisted, turning his seat to face him squarely. "The UTS has never been this generous or anywhere approaching honest in the past." The fearless captain sighed, gulping the last of the miserable sludge down and setting his mug on the console.
"Well, there's always a chance," he offered. Edward gave him what would have been a stern look; having been working together for six years now, Cole knew what that was, and he threw his hands up. "Look, it's at least 250,000 GCU. By contract. You know what we could do with that kind of money? Retrofit the sublight engines on the Hound. Get you an honest-to-God maintenance cycle for a change instead of patching you up as we go. Hell, we might even have enough money to buy a Silar Fleet Systems 313 interceptor and scrap that hunk of crap in the hangar!"
"You named that hunk of crap in the hangar," Edward countered.
"I name a lot of things!" He exclaimed, rapping his knuckles on the console. "Look, we need the money, Ed. Whatever else Caldwell and the UTS do, they don't stiff contractors when there's a binding contract, and here it is. In black and white. We're guaranteed to get 250,000, even if this pencil-pusher decides that we aren't worth his time."
"I'll believe it when we're finished, alive, and paid," replied the android, sitting back against the worn cushions of the co-pilot seat. Cole rose from his chair and made his way to the small galley, eager to brew a new pot of coffee and wash down the awful sludge that would no doubt come back to haunt him later. That makes two of us, he thought.