Sign Up | Log In
BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL
This is the "Last Flight of the Angels Hammer" Cont.
Jack Finds work and we learn a tadbit more about him. Action will happen soon the first lilbit is a mite slow.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 820 RATING: SERIES: FIREFLY
“This is Wren transport, Shadow, captain Jackson Fauss calling, Hera. Hera reply.” I called down to the planet. Requesting a landing to refuel and hopefully find work. Don’t know why I’m back on this god forsaken rock.
A voice came over the radio. An older gentlemen by the sound of it, with a gruff yet gentle voice.” Transport Shadow, this is Hera.”
“Hera I am requesting landing for refuel and supply.”
“Well son your clear for landing. There are ports open in Serenity View’s port, and in Grainhal. I’d take Grainhal, more ships go in ‘n out of there, the port fee’s dang near nutt’n.”
I smirk a little not he can see it, garram’n vid’ went out weeks ago. I should fix that. “ Thanks, Grainhal it is. This is Shadow making approach, in to Grainhal port.”
“Have a good’n son. Hera out.” And the radio and fuzzy screen went black.
Grainhal is the main port town of Hera, ships come here to transport grain and other produce and crops from here to every corner of the verse, though that’s just the cover story. Most of it gets redirected to the Core planets. It was the same on Shadow.
My mom and her kin were grain farmers, taught me the trade, but I wanted to be in the black with my dad. He was a pilot, one of the best. Married my mom against granddads wishes though that soon changed though when dad got his own mid-bulk transport, Firefly. Named aft’r my mom. His kin ran one of the transport companies on Shadow, when he married mom the tow businesses joined up made us one of the wealthier families on the rock.
The plan for me was to go in as a pilot when I was old enough. Lot a good plans do.
When I as ground side I decided to go and look for a job and a pub. Maybe both.
Walking down the streets you could tell this was a mostly farm’n place. Every vendor was a-sell’n produce and stuff for agrow’n the produce. Sad to say I feel at home in this environment, Ships and farmers. Reminded me of home. I stopped every now and again when some thing looked of interest. But bein a pilot out a work and alook’n didn’t take no one long to try and push me along my way.
Hard to find work these days I been doing odd jobs here and there most stick’n to the outer worlds, since I have an empty hold hope’n I can find me some work.
I start ask’n about here and there, “ Scuse me, mame, sir. I look’n for persons in need of a ship, and an empty hold.”
Had a few interesting offers but none that would even pay the next port’n fee. So kept a-walk’n. I haven’t had this much trouble finding a job since I go out of prison after the war.
Work wasn’t to be found for a young brown coat stuck in the core. I eventually got a job as a mechanic for a small shipping company that did a little under the table dealings, what did I care anything against the alliance was good in my eyes. Eventually I was trusted with my own route from Sinon to Boros and back. Every again they send me to Londinum. I always got the creeps. Alliance every where looking every were at everything, it made me a might twitchy.
I started to learn how to hack as a result of being stuck in the core. It got me out of some tight spots before. The only things I still carry around of those days are my data book and a few electronic lock friers. I almost got caught y the alliance on one trip, wont go into details, be it enough to say the job went south. That’s how I acquired my ship. I stole it reset some of the systems so it was like an entirely new ship, to those that don’t know better. I had to sacrifice a lock frier to reset it all. But I aint nothing if I’m not resourceful.
Found my way out to some old familiar places, around the back corners of the verse. Dad said we needed to deliver to the farther out places to. Even found my way back to Shadow, tempted to land where the old homestead was, thought better of it. Bring me back round to the present.
I was talk’n to a older gentlemen on a deal, delivering some grain for a mite cheaper then the actual shipping companies. When a strange man came over to me, “I hear you’re a pilot.” He stated in a voice that was a mixed accent of core and outer worlds, ”I might have need for your talents.”
I know I’m needing to be a tad more wary of this but I need the coin, ”You have a job?”
The man smirked, “If your interested.”
“Mama dint raise just any fool now. I’ll hear ya out but I aint gonna make any promises but I never walk from a potential job. Work hard to find for men like me.”
He sized me up a bit, taken notice of my obvious choice of brown in my wardrobe, examined my old unit patch and crew patch I keep on my flight jacket.” I have work that’s right down your ally, sir. If you’ll come my way.” He gestured me to a small bar at the corner of the street. ”There” and he followed the nod and began to stroll.
I nodded and followed the suit.
We entered the dirty old Bar in the port town of Grainhal named so clever the Drunked Farmer. If the place looked like go se from the outside then the inside, well there aint a colored enough word in the verse to descried this.
Walking in to the bar there was a first the smell most recognizable of beer and smokes. A long bar along the back of the large room partly exposed an older over weight man, in a stained white button down and a black apron. A pair of glasses adorned his wide cautious face and a scare trailed from his right eye to the ear on the same side. He was cleaning a glass and talk’n to a patron of the bar, farmer by the cloths all I could tell from the back. There were tables dottin the floor here and there most of them filled, with various folks have’n a good time. The suit led me to a booth table in the back corner, were there was another, slightly younger man in a tux tryin’ his luck with one of the bar maids; Smoothed-back hair, a look a moneyed individual, and that same mixed accent looked as he was doin well till he caught a glance at us walkin in.
“if you’ll please excuse me dear, I have business to discuss,” he handed her a tip with a wink, and she walked off. “So my associate here says you’re a pilot looking for work, is this fact?” I nodded,” please speak boy, this light is terrible.”
“This is fact. I’m lookin for work if you have some for me to have.” I said with a wary tone. I always had a hard time trustin core worlders, even if they weren’t for the alliance. “is there any to be had?”
“Yes, there is but I have a college that is in need of a pilot to run some jobs for him. Some might be a little questionable if the alliance were to know but I’m guessing you haven’t a problem with that.” He said him to eyeing my choice of brown. “I had friends in your old unit in the war, I’m amazed any of there numbers are still among the living.”
“If that’s what ya want ta be callin. I’m just breathing myself. Where’s your friend and did you have a job for me?”
“My friend will contact you when you deliver my goods to him on Boros. I need your docking number to have it delivered to your ship. You will be compensated well for this.” He held out his hand, “do we have a deal?”
I took his hand firm in mine,” deal, I leave as soon as I get refueled.”
“Good in the mean time,” he gave a wave to the bar maid who had apparently been watching, “join me for a drink?”
And hour later I was going over my preflight and factoring in a course for Boros. If’n this friend has as much work as he’s say’n I’ll be good for a while, but if the job is as I’m feelin, being the illegal stuff, I’m gonna need a more dependable ship. I’ll hit the junk yards when I get there. Being a ship yard there will be enough ofa choice to be efficient.
My radio buzzed to life, “ Mr. Fauss the cargo is secured in you hold,” it was the tux guy.
“Thank you, I’ll be off you rock in mere moments.”
“Very well, good flying” The radio buzzed off.
I looked up at the blue sky over Hera, something didn’t feel right.
A.N.: Third person narrator. Enter the operative?
Else where in Grainhal looking out on to the ship yards, through a pair of binoculars, a figure dresses in black body armor, and black combat pants sneered as the Wren class ship Shadow left atmo. He looked down a wrist computer. “ Target leaving Hera, 1300hrs, target on route to Boros, following as soon as transportation is acquired.” He had two hand guns and each hip as well as a straight edged katana slung over his shoulder. He looked over the port searching for a promising vessel with witch to make his chase. To his dismay most were nothing more then old transport vessels, a few alliance shuttles here and there but other then that nothing he thought he could use.
He grinned evilly as he walked towards the docks pulling a black trench coat over his torso hiding his weapons and body armor. “This should prove a most interesting chase.”
Saturday, March 21, 2009 8:18 PM
You must log in to post comments.
OTHER FANFICS BY AUTHOR
All FIREFLY graphics and photos on this page are copyright 2002-2012 Mutant Enemy, Inc., Universal Pictures, and 20th Century Fox.
All other graphics and texts are copyright of the contributors to this website.
This website IS NOT affiliated with the Official Firefly Site, Mutant Enemy, Inc., or 20th Century Fox.