Remnants of the Earth
SPACE STATIONS => The Cancer => Topic started by: Tally on March 13, 2013, 10:05:21 pm
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August wouldn't say he was worried per se. That wasn't quite the word for it. But he was...hm, reserved about his expectations that this evening would end without serious physical trauma—his own or someone else's.
It was just terrific how idiosyncratic the Cancer was—sort of like a labyrinth. A terrible, dirty labyrinth with an unfortunate smell. August didn't know where he was in relation to anything else at this point. He did know that his Aedolian military uniform was garnering attention of the sort he didn't want. There was an awful lot of glaring and sneering going on as he passed through the alleys and—gods above, was that guy picking his teeth with a knife? Fantastic.
August ducked around a corner and found badly-lit hangars on either side of him. Better and better!
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The soldier caught his attention, all right; Cecil walked several paces before he had to stop and do a double take. Sure enough, there he was, meandering toward the old hangar bay--the one that had been shut down and abandoned years back in favor of a newer one that wasn't literally falling apart. The one that was now a popular hangout for thugs.
Of all the stupid, foolish things...
Either that guy was insanely confident, or insanely idiotic because wearing an Aedolian uniform on the Cancer? He may as well douse himself in sheep's blood and march into a lion's den. He was already getting eyed up and down like a fat, lost lamb, ripe for the slaughter; there was, after all, no shortage of folks who had a bone to pick with Aedolis and those who represented it.
If he had been anyone else, he would have kept on walking the way he'd been going.
Rolling his one good eye and letting out a low sigh, Cecil turned on his heel and headed after him.
His wardrobe was unremarkable, and so was his appearance: pale-skin, freckles, and ginger hair pulled back into a loose tail. The only thing that really stood out was his height and the eye patch over his left eye, but there were plenty of tall guys with interesting battle scars, not to mention the non-humans. But that was what he was going for, blending in.
Since he didn't fancy getting knifed like some people.
The Aedolian had just reached the old hangar bay when he caught up to him. He stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I wouldn't go any further if you value your life," he said, voice low.
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August tensed at the hand on his shoulder, but Aedolis didn't put out half-trained grunts—he was good enough not to flinch, and when he turned it was slowly, calmly, like he wasn't in somewhat of a precarious situation with regards to living and not getting stabbed.
This fellow certainly had the pirate look down, eyepatch and all. Odd, though. Either he was expressing genuine concern, or this was the beginning of some scripted encounter that would end with August's kidneys in a couple of ice coolers. It was like a game show!
"Really?" August blinked at the dilapidated hangar bay, the litter, the shadows lurking in doorways and windows. "Why?"
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"Because," Cecil said, as though speaking to someone very young or very slow, "you're heading into a rather dark and shady and quiet area. While wearing an Aedolian uniform. On the Cancer. Alone."
He released the man's shoulder and shrugged his own. "Of course, if you have business with the local cartel, by all means don't let me hold you up."
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"Oh, yes. That." August sighed.
"I am currently entertaining suggestions as to what else I could do." August frowned over the man's shoulder, where his previous path would lead him back through the alley with that gentleman who was using a knife for a toothpick. "Given the state of my options."
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"You have no idea what the hell you're doing, do you," Cecil said with a shake of his head, less a question and more a statement of fact.
"Then here's a suggestion: turn around and walk away from the dark, shady place crawling with cutthroats. Also, come with me," he said, jerking his head in the direction they'd come from--which was, of course, where the man with the knife-for-a-toothpick was.
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"Absolutely. This seems like a plan that can't possibly fail."
In general, and this entire time that he'd been getting more and more lost, he'd been banking on the uniform to both attract ire but repel violence. Sure, the gentlemen lining the alleyways and lurking behind dark windows maybe weren't thrilled to be seeing an Aedolis serviceman, but that uniform boasted an intimidation factor that wasn't insignificant. That intimidation had kept him safe, so far.
Good thing too, considering he wasn't even armed.
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Cecil lead the way, keeping close to the man and keeping a keen eye out for any trouble. Wouldn't do for him to come to his rescue only for him to get taken out now.
"What're you doing all the way out here, anyway?" he asked once they'd exited that alley and entered another one, sticking to a casual, unhurried pace. Rush and you drew attention to yourself. "Because if you're looking for something, I know this place like the back of my hand. Though..."
He gave him another sideways glance. "If you don't mind, I'm going to suggest swinging by the business district first. You have to get out of that thing."
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August's assumptions kept swinging like a pendulum between the good and the bad. Sometimes this man said things that made it seem like he was genuinely helping out. Other times, August got the distinct impression he was being led into an intimate encounter with a black market organs dealer.
Like right now, twisting and turning through these alley's, and the suggestion that he get out of his uniform. Gods above, he was going to wake up in a tub of ice, wasn't he?
"I'm with the Aedolis contingent that docked yesterday. Granted, getting lost in the livelier parts of Cancer wouldn't have been my first choice for how to spend the evening."
August followed, but he had no intention of relinquishing his uniform. If he was lucky, his guide would lead him to one of the more reputable business districts where they might catch sight of another Aedolis serviceman.
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"I feel you. There's no shortage of people here who'd love to pick off a lost thing like you, and there's no few people that hate Aedolians. All things considered, you're pretty lucky."
While they had headed out of the seedy, "gonna shank you and use your intestines as a belt" area, they also weren't heading toward anywhere more populous. It was quiet out, but there were a few small businesses here and there, and he headed toward a cluster of them that looked old and rusty and cracked, like they had been there since Cancer's early stages. Around them, newer structures had been built further adding to that feel of timelessness in an ever-changing, ever growing environment.
"You can pick up some cheap clothes here," he said as he lead the way to one of the buildings. "Just to wear when you're feeling foolish and adventurous and feel like leaving your people. You gotta blend in around here or you're an easy target."
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"Yes, my cup overfloweth with good fortune."
If anything, their surroundings seemed to be getting quieter and more deserted the further they went. Rather exactly the opposite of what August wanted just then. He needed to find his way back to the main thoroughfares.
"I don't think I will, thanks." He passed the entrance to the clothing store and kept going. There was no reason for him to lose the uniform and every reason not to, chief among them being that this was a blatant diversion from his goal, which wasn't to change clothes but to get back to their docking bay.
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Cecil let the man get two steps in front of him before he had his gun out and pressed to the back of his head. He cocked it with an audible click, just in case there was any doubt as to what the sudden, cool pressure against him was.
"I believe I may have given the impression that I was suggesting this," he said. "My apologies."
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August sighed, long and heavy. Where was a psychic when you really needed them?
"You didn't, actually. I'm just a hopeless optimist like that."
He turned slowly, in case his friend with the gun had a twitchy finger. He was too used to Aedolis soldiers—level, dependable as robots when in a crisis, even when emotional or agitated. Outside of that discipline one might expect any level of recklessness.
"I'd feel more comfortable with the gun away, if you would. I'm not carrying myself." Staring down the barrel, he tapped the patch on his own shoulder—the universal symbol of a health care worker. He didn't, by intersystem law, carry a weapon on him. It preserved his non-combatant status in the case of a war, afforded him some special treatment even if captured by an enemy nation.
Of course, they weren't in a war, and this gentleman was not an enemy soldier. Given that, intersystem protective laws for doctors did exactly dick for him.
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"Oh, it's not that I think you're packing," Cecil said, and motioned with his free hand toward the clothing shop. "Go on, now. Go inside. Nice and quiet."
And he gave the man's shoulder a rough push just to get him going.
As it turned out, the clothing shop wasn't actually a clothing shop, nor was it even open, and that became obvious on a closer look. The sign was lit up, but the inside was dark, and passed the clothes lining the windows, it looked rather empty inside.
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The clothing store turned out not to live up to its name. It was, as it happened, something of an empty shell inside. Not just deserted, but dark, too. Hit every selling point.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say this place were a touch shady."
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"Just a touch," Cecil confirmed. He swiped a card key that unlocked the door and then shoved the medic inside. The door closed behind them with a resounding thud.
On closer look, the shop wasn't so abandoned after all. In fact, it looked rather lived-in, like a hotel room in which people had been living out of their suitcases. People on the move, people who didn't anticipate staying long.
Not bothering to turn on the lights, Cecil motioned to a chair with his gun. "Take a seat," he said, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small radio. He leaned back against the checkout counter and kept a close watch on the medic.
"Hey, I got him," he said into the radio. "Rendezvous back at the shop ASAP. We're getting out of here."
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The shoving was getting a scosh under his skin.
He didn't betray his irritation. August worked with Pilots on a daily basis, and those lumps of dysfunction could be reliably counted on to make him want to lobotomize himself during any given encounter. One learned to control one's impulses.
His nose crinkled in the barest expression of disgust at their dwelling. He strode relaxed, loose, to the chair. This would be a terrible time to make a play, what with his friend's excessive vigilance, so he might as well work at creating the impression of cooperation now rather than later.
Smart man, though, this one. Even with an unarmed doctor, he didn't relax one bit—mindful, perhaps, that August was still an Aedolis military officer.
"Well." August picked at the rusted metal of the chair he sat in. "I was right to get my tetanus booster, wasn't I?"
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"Always be prepared," Cecil answered with a smile. "I'd expect a doctor to be up to date."
He put the radio away but kept is gun trained on him, just in case. Now that he had him, the last thing he wanted was to fuck this up.
"I hope you didn't have anywhere important that you needed to be," he said. "And I do apologize for taking you away from your duties. I know it's inconvenient. But I assure you, as long as you cooperate, you won't have anything to worry about, Doctor...?"
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"Staresti," he said, then allowed for a significant pause. "And no. Just my rendezvous with the Pilots."
As it happened, Pilots were not permitted on Cancer. Couldn't have psychics running around learning everyone's secrets now could they?
As it also happened, no one in their right mind was naive enough to believe Aedolis didn't at least attempt to get psychics quietly aboard the station—it was why the entire bridge, barracks, and engineering were encased in psionic-blocking lead alloys.
Maybe, just maybe, it would cross this man's mind just how fucked he would be if a Pilot got to August before his allies did.
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Cecil's brow creased and his lips thinned at the mention of the Pilots, but whatever thought crossed his mind, he pushed through it and once more affected a relaxed, casual expression. He'd never had any illusions that what they planned was dangerous. It was outright insane. But it was worth the risk, and there was no going back, now. The crime was already committed.
But still, gods, were there Pilots here? It was illegal, but hah, look at them, doing illegal acts. Something being illegal never stopped anyone. Especially not on the Cancer. That answer was rather ambiguous, though. Could be he was about to leave the station and head back to Earth. A good bluff, and not a lie, either.
He shifted his weight. "Ah, good. Well, you'll get to pick back up with them soon enough. We're going to--"
The door opened and Cecil jumped, more obviously than he would have liked, and glowered at the sight of his companions: a clean, orderly looking man around the same age as the doctor, another man older than Cecil, with graying hair, a biker's beard, and an affinity for chains and tattoos, and a spiky-haired woman who looked to be somewhere in the middle. The woman smiled at the sight of the doctor.
"Hey, cute hostage."
"No flirting. We're getting him out of here. Now," Cecil said, and glanced at Staresti. "He hinted there could be Pilots here."
Handing his gun off to the woman so she could spot him, he grabbed the handcuffs from her belt and headed for Staresti.
"Alright, get up."
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August could still maintain a poker face to make a statue jealous. He met the man's stare with a level expression, as though none of this really mattered, as though it were all a foregone conclusion to him and he need waste neither worry nor gloating on any of it.
It was gratifying to see the man jump while August himself stayed steady. The newcomers looked...well, they looked very Cancer-y, though the woman presented him with an immediate opportunity.
"No flirting?" He cast a glance her way. "You Cancers are hardasses aren't you?"
When he stood, he brought his wrists together in front of him for the handcuffs, rather hoping the physical prompt would save him having to deal with his hands cuffed behind his back.
"Maybe if this one had more flirting in his life he wouldn't be so touchy?" He nodded at the man with the cuffs.
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While Cecil dealt with the doctor and the woman, Vita, spotted him, the other two went about picking up and grabbing their belongings.
"Maybe," Cecil agreed, and yanked Staresti's arms behind his back. The handcuffs clicked into place. He was taking no chances here; the guy was a doctor, but he was still military. "But I've been there, done that, and gotten in enough trouble from it for now."
"All work and no play," Vita said with a smile and a shrug. "I've tried to get him to loosen up."
"Whose side are you on here, anyway?" Cecil muttered, then sighed and turned back to Staresti. No weapons so far, but it wasn't really the weapons he was worried about. "Lane, you got the scanner?"
"Yessir!" It was the bearded man, who had pulled a device from his bag and was casually bouncing it in his palm. He lumbered over to them and handed it to Cecil, who began to pass it over the doctor to check for any bugging devices.
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No dice with the cuffs, then. The man didn't even hesitate before he jerked August's arms behind his back.
"His loss then." He returned the woman's smile, but he didn't lay it on too thick. He was trying to be disarming here, not seductive.
"Scanner?" He stood passively while Cecil ran the thing over him, though he hadn't the slightest idea what they hoped to find. He really didn't have any weapons on him. "What are you scanning for exactly?"
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Vita gave a little shrug in a, "whatcha gonna do?" sort of gesture and then turned to rejoin Lane and the younger man.
"If I find what I'm scanning for, I'll let you know," Cecil answered as he passed the device down Staresti's legs.
Nothing beeped, though, so when he was satisfied that he'd been thorough, he passed the scanner back to Lane. Then, just to be sure, he began to pat the man down, checking for weapons. Medics might not be able to carry weapons, but the man was Aedolian. He wasn't about to take his word on the matter.
"He's clean," he said at last, and stood upright again. "Let's move out. Go on ahead of us, Vita. Ready the ship and make sure there's no one around that's going to give us trouble."
"Aye-aye, captain!" With snappy salute, Vita slipped out the door ahead of them.
He waited several seconds. Then something beeped, and Lane slipped a small radio from his pocket. "All clear! Hurry up!" came Vita's voice.
Cecil turned toward the younger man who had until this point remained quiet. "You know the drill. Tail us, make sure we're not being followed. We'll see you back there."
The man nodded, and Cecil took Staresti by the upper arm to get him moving. "Come on. Get going."
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August rolled his eyes when the man—the captain apparently—began patting him down. Despite his own alarm, he kept his breathing even and his body language loose. Had to appear unconcerned, as though the outcome couldn't be anything but what he expected.
"You're thorough, Captain. Many doctors arm themselves on Cancer?" August went without resistance, though he was beginning to run out of time to make a move if they were already headed for a ship.
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Cecil gave Staresti a bland look. “You're not naïve enough to believe everyone follows the law, are you?”
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August returned the look with one of equal blandness. "It was more a question of doctors needing to arm themselves than one of adherence to law."
Which he realized was fairly dense of him. Here he was, a doctor, in a situation where he might have made use of a sidearm. So yeah.
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Cecil couldn't help it. The question was so absurd, all things considered, that he laughed. It was a quiet laugh, more of a sharp exhalation, but he grinned as he motioned at August.
"Do I really need to answer that one? Or do you think you can do the math yourself?"
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August winced. "No. No I'm well aware thank you and if we could forget this ever happened I would be grateful."
He followed up with something he didn't expect an actual answer to. "What are you hoping to get out of this? It must be exceptional to make it worth the risk."
One might describe the Aedolis military as many things. Obsessively vindictive would be one of them. They had a reputation to maintain after all.
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"I don't know about exceptional," Cecil answered simply, "but it is important, and it's well worth it. All you need to know right now, however, is that you'll remain unharmed so long as you're cooperative. We'll even return you to this station once we're done. Don't cooperate and I'm afraid we'll have no real use for you."
He decided he'd leave the rest to Staresti's imagination.
They were nearing the docking station now, and the closer they got, the more edgy Cecil felt. They were so close, and this was going so smoothly so far--which meant, of course, that he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was well aware of how vicious the Aedolian military was, and of how foolhardy and insane capturing one of their military doctors was.
This was either going to work, crazy as it was, or they were all about to die.
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"I hope it's nothing as mundane as ransom," August muttered. Or a hostage exchange. "Because that won't go well for you or me. Remember those surveyors awhile back? The ones held by that piracy syndicate. Not that being jump-hijacked into the center of a star is a bad way to go. Instantaneous actually, they wouldn't have felt a thing. I'd just prefer not to be incinerated if given the choice."
He mostly said it to remind them, but then, he suspected this crew knew good and well what awaited them if they tried to negotiate with the Aedolis military. It just never hurt to remind one's captors that, hey, just to let you know, my people would rather see all of us dead than loose face to a pirate crew.
Damn, though. They'd already reached the docks and August heard nothing in his head but his own thoughts. He scanned the crowds, looking for any familiar face. If they got him on that ship, he'd be riding a whole different wave of trouble.
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"Ransom?" Cecil actually smiled at that. That was cute. "Rest assured, you can rule that out. We're not interested in discussion, and you're not important enough to rescue."
He glanced around the docks as they walked, but only moved his eyes. The trick was to move like a predator, confidently, assuredly, and with purpose; few people would ask questions if you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing. So far, so good, with no sign of military reinforcements. That could change at any moment, however, and every second mattered.
Up ahead, Cecil caught sight of Vita, who was waiting for them near a nondescript starjumper. She flashed them a thumbs up and then boarded, letting them know it was clear, but Cecil still felt on edge, and knew he wouldn't stop feeling edgy until they were a healthy distance away from here.
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August did his best to drag his feet without being obvious about it, which he mostly failed at. His captors would not be slowed, and ever step they took toward that starjumper tightened the choke hold of worry about August's throat.
He held his breath for all seven steps up the ramp.
Nothing happened, and the hold closed up behind him.