Scene One
Papers are signed, transfer codes enabled, protocols uploaded. Catering and housekeeping sweep through a set of crew quarters, gussying them up: the first officer’s quarters turned into a modest “stateroom”. Crew cabins 4-12 assigned to members of the Chief Space Officer’s entourage. Except for cabin 7. There’s no cleaning that one, and Jacques doesn’t have the time or energy to explain, he just marks it off with yellow hazard tape.
Lots of muscle, a few simpering yes-men. Cuff links show the man to be a proud space bro-frat alum.
Jacques can’t help but observe that he doesn’t have any space moose working for him.
Shortly after jump they invade the bridge. The CSO is all smiles, the entourage arrange themselves behind him more seriously. This is not going to be good, Jacques thinks, but stays quiet. The CSO has his best “buddy-buddy, now here’s what you’re going to do for me” swagger going. He plops himself down in the helmsman’s seat and swivels it jauntily to face Jacques.
“So, a-migo, slight change of plans-you know how these things go. We’re going to need you to swing by Sector 6, where we’ll be picking up some, ah, additional travellers.”
Sector 6 is notorious for brothels of questionable integrity.
“We’re also going to need all surveillance systems on this craft disabled. And also all databanks turned over to my man here. Don’t want any…indiscretions…to occur, you catch my drift?”
Some of the entourage are now grinning.
“Also, we’ll need the additional travellers returned after we reach our destination. Returned where, we don’t care!” Laughter. “And of course meticulous cleanup. I can give you a card for a reliable service.”
As he turns, one of the yes-men is digging in his pocket for something. This is when he notices the thick layer of dust on the helmsman’s console. He glances around nervously…dust covers every part of the bridge, save where Jacques sits. His hand picks up something on the bottom of the seat as he turns, he looks at it: sudden pungent iron-rich odor, the crumbly dark blue-black consistency. Dried blood. His face turns pale. The remaining entourage begin to realize that something is not quite right.
Jacques stares at him, silently.
“I, uh, I mean, we understand, right, each…”
Jacques snaps his fingers. The T.A.R.O.T. panel rises and unfolds from the floor. The bridge lights dim further, and the peculiar blue glow illuminates his face as he checks the display.
“All systems are functioning. We will arrive at our destination on schedule in 58.45 space hours,” Jacques announces.
The CSO and his men remain in their quarters for the rest of the trip. He only sees them again when they disembark. Later he learns that a significant tip is usually part of these jobs, but he’s not too bothered to lose it.
Scene Two
Jacques ponders the “coffee” he has been served at Duck’s. It smells like something that was, at some point, related to the process of coffee. And it is a black liquid, albiet something of a greasy, green-tinted film floats on the top. But most importantly the beige ceramic totem, placed strategically on the table of his booth, will allow him to work undisturbed by solicitous waiters for the rest of the afternoon. This, after all, is coffee’s most important function. Also, that first, nearly abortive, sip, just to assuage his curiosity, had probably provided him with enough caffeine to last the day.
All about him the clicking of lobster mandibles, the chatter of humans, the hissing of lizards, and the occasional bugle. Individual conversations indistinct, but to Jacques, a symphony of space. He is at home.
Non-prescription reading glasses perched on his nose, Jacques began to review his tablet. Starting with a rolling-recall notice from Unizone.
“Merde-bâtards.”
He knows at this point that he needs to resupply his ship for a general strategy, not so much geared to any of the open missions. Given the recall, however, the missions are looking questionable in terms of profit. Sit this one out maybe?
Current balance: b63.0000
-b10 - Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH) x2
-b20 - Unizone Blasters (4 FP)
Subtotal: -b40.0000
New balance: 23.0000
But where, Jacques wonders, will T.A.R.O.T. take him next?
On the darkened bridge Jacques eyes widen, and he grips the armrests.
Mission 3 - Lizard Tail
Scene Three
Two days in space now. Sitting. Sitting like a canard. Boredom and stress, somehow simultaneously. The ship is so quiet, it is as though he were floating in space itself. Would that he were transporting priceless art pieces! That would be a thrill indeed. And then a thought strikes him. Jacques opens the hyperspace comm relay channel.
“To any capitaine transporting works of art: I am prepared to pay a sum of b20.0, to be divided evenly amongst all capitaines who stop by my coordinates and offer me a private showing on their way to Sandfish VII.”
@jlw @davide405 @PromptedInk @greenglyph @Old @bizmail_public @micaela
"Captain" Jacques Malchance The Entropy
