Chapter 6 - Aster-985

Aster-985. A beaten looking station on the outskirts of Aster space territory. Suffered many attacks by rogues and pirates over the years, but has survived, fighting back with it's ever growing heavy weaponry. A safe house for all kinds of people, it's the perfect place to get your mitts on all kinds of things from slave girls to fully fledged warships complete with crew. The patrol forces gave up on this place long ago. Not surprising really. This is where half of their stuff came from, so now the station crew do the policing of the surrounding space ways all by themselves. My mum flies on up ahead, talking with traffic control. According to her, we're a trio of rogues looking to start up a new business in ship selling on the inter-galactic black market. Something both me and Lucas have been involved in before, so it's no skin off noses, since we like to keep up to date with what ships are what and when the new grades are comming out etcetera. Helps us keep on our toes during the races. And as for my mum. Well, she's had a long, sometimes shady, life. So keeping on top of these things comes naturally to her. Come to think of it, that might be where I get my talents from. If any of us have to fleece an innocent by stander to prove ourselves to someone less caring on this station, then we will without a second thought. It's something you have to learn to do out here, otherwise you won't last very long.

I guide my ship into the docking bay behind mum and Lucas, landing it next them within a yellow painted square on the floor. Six orange suits sidle up to us and my mum gives them the low down on the ships. They tamper, they die a painful death. She just has to look at them and they swallow their come backs, nod and get to work setting up the umbilicals, connecting them to the ships. A grey skinned woman comes up to us, her lycra tight uniform the same shade as he skin. She wears part of a suit of armour, officer grade. She addresses mum, giving the ocassional glance towards me and Lucas.
''All things are being taken care of. Your credit chips have gone through and you have one hundred credits on your tab to spend as you please. You will be sharing the same quarters, a three single bed room up on the sixth arm of the station. You can get to it via lift one, taking it up to the third deck. Go left out of there and your quarters are sixty seven A. Enjoy your stay.'' She said and bustled off towards another ship, it's small crew loitering around, watching the orange suits do their thing.
''That's something you don't get every day.'' Mum said under her breath.
''What?''
''Short, sweet and straight to the point.'' She replied and walked off.

We followed her, looking around, taking in our surroundings. Not the tourist kind of taking in our surroundings, but searching out the short cuts, hidey holes and exits, mentally mapping our route, working out ways of getting back to our ships quickly if need be. All kinds of shady characters line the route to our quarters. People selling everything and anything. So-called miracle cures for the common cold, warship blue prints and even the warships themselves. You want it, someone on this station has it. For a price, of course. We stop outside a door. 67-A is printed on the grey panel doors in white spray paint. A swipe with a key card and the door slides open on well oiled tracks revealing the room beyond. It has a round window opposite the the door, not offering much of a view, since the initial view was of the exhaust pipes of various ships. Three narrow beds were lined up against the far wall and through a doorway to the left led into the bathroom, which was just as cramped as the main room. We dumped our bags on our selected beds, mum between me and Lucas. She went and pulled a chair up to the table in the middle beneath the window and pulled an electronic pad out of her coat pocket and started tapping away. Probably nothing Stalker related. You don't want something like that onboard a place like Aster-985. Our ships where an exception though. No Stalker Fighter Mk II, no Annette Burrows. So it was something that needed to be risked.

''War Bird Mk 5's are being sold on the black market for just under three hundred and fifty thousand Niahrs.'' Mum said, not looking up from her pad.
''Empty or full?'' I queried.
''Full. Three torpedo launches, ten standard turrets and a plasma cannon. Says here, the engine's fully operational and the slip stream drive's still intact.'' She mused.
''Three hundred and fifty? Damn, that's cheap for a warship like that.'' Lucas said, rolling onto his stomach as he lay on the bed.
''Aye. But there's bound to be something wrong with it.'' I said.
''We could always go have a look at it. It's supposed to be docking here in two hours.'' Mum said. ''In the mean time, we can have something to eat.''
My brain ticked over for a few moments. It was just the other week that me, Lucas and Ann had been discussing getting ourselves a carrier so we didn't have to live out of our racers. The War Bird was sounding very tempting. But then, for a high class warship at that price, it would be tempting, wouldn't it? I put the thought aside for now and stood up. My stomach's twisting itself around my spine and I'm sure the other two are just as hungry as I am. Lucas' the first at the door, sticking his head out into the hallway and having a good look. I dunno why he decided to do it, anybody'd think we were on someone's hit list. Well, we probably are and someone on this station is probably looking to kill someone for fun. Which doesn't surprise me. You get that alot in places like this.


We looked around at the bar. We took up a seat at a round table in the corner, my mum with her back to the wall where she was in a position to be able to get a decent view of the goings on in our currount surroundings. Our plates are empty, the remnants of our meal smearing the surface of the stainless dull silver metal of our plates and bowls, the cutlery dropped onto them, most of our proper table mannerisms gone out the air lock. It was hard to stay reasonably polite in an atmosphere like this. People getting swindled and looking or starting fights all around us. No matter where we looked, something interesting was going on. Two Lo'gars were having an argument across the otherside of the bar in the games corner. Things started getting interesting when the one with the money in his hand got lynched by the other, being dragged to the floor and beaten, a crowd quickly swarming to watch and, possibly, placing bets. We watched from our table, patiently waiting for eight pm to roll around, the time of the War Bird's supposed docking. We could afford the ship if we liked it, assuming the price hadn't been hiked upwards in the intervening time of the advert being placed on the black market's business network and it's arrival. All three of us, me, Lucas and Ann had opened up a new bank account into which we put a little bit of our winnings so we could try and save properly for anything we might need. A team account is a more simpler way of putting it. I know we're not a team, but that's besides the point. We enter virtually all the same races, so it's only simple logic that we travel together. Only this time, we're after proper lodgings instead of having to sleep in our cockpits and places like this on a regular basis. A warship of that calibre only needs filling up a couple of times each half-cycle. The maintenance checks and upgrades are once a cycle, or year, depending on where you come from.

The fight ends, no one won, and we stand up and head for the exit, making for the docking desk, the place where you need to be to know what ships are in, due and departing. A creature with a small white face that's black insectoid eyes nearly dominate looks at us expectantly. It's eight pm.
''Is there any Kenemian War Birds docking or currently docked at the station?'' I asked.
The creature looks down, it's spindly fingers moving across a flat keyboard interface and then it looks up.
''One Kenemian War Bird is currently docked. It arrived five minutes ago.''
''What's it's current status?'' Mum asked.
''Being re-fueled. The ship is also for sale. The captain and current owner will still be down there. The dock is fifteen C. Anything else?'' It said and watched us, the same expectant look on it's face.
''No, that's all thankyou.'' Lucas said and we headed off towards dock fifteen C.''

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