Welcome to Gaia! ::

. razz oor Betsy:.

Rilan Hex did not have a lot in the way of scruples. Which was why she was now staring blearily in dismay at the massive, stinking lump of a man who was currently sleeping on her hair.

THis was a common enough occurance when the crew of the Swansong put into port for more than a couple of hours. She would go out to some seedy cantina or another, get shitfaced and then wake up in a variety of uncomfortable places and positions. The man gave a wet snore and shifted in his sleep, belching softly so the air was fillead with the lingering stench of rotting meat. Rilan made a face and clamped down on her gag reflex. Idly, her brain wondered why it was that she'd accompanied this man back to his house.

...side job... Cash on Delivery... No, that hadn't been it. As a general rule Rilan didn't take side jobs. As a general rule she really didn't have a lot to do with business in general. She piloted Swansong and, if she said so herself, (which she did. All the time.) Did a damn good job at it. As far as what they were carting where, she didn't give a good god-damn. That was Miles and Hammer's business.

The Swansong and it's crew moonlighted as a scavenger and light freighter. They even did a decent bit of legitimate business. Between that and the odd bit of general smuggling they managed to live in relative comfort. It was enough to keep the ship running, at least. Scaveninging for questionable legitimacy, smuggling for a good reputation in all the worst parts of town. The crew of the Swansong, like so many after the war, kept to the borderlands as much as possible. All in all it went together to provide the perfect cover for their true purpose, the one thing that would draw them into the more mainstream alliance-infested ports. Gunrunning. In certain dark and smoky circles the name Swansong evoked a special kind of awe and respect. If you had a need and the money to pay for it, the crew of Swansong would deliver on-time and discreetly. To anyone who could afford it.

The fat meat-man was not a client. Rilan had been forbidden from sleeping with active clients anyways after an unfortunate incident involving a Caldarian bear and an untimely dismemberment. Miles rarely put restrictions on the crew and this was one she could accept with relative good graces. But the meant man. Oh! That was right, he'd boasted about a small hydro-house. Offered to show her his tomatoes. The lure of fresh vegetables had been enough to draw the drunken pilot into his bed where she was now trapped, pinned down by the man lying on her hair. Inconvenient.


Slipping a small knife from the sheath she wore at her thigh, Rilan gave a small sigh. She'd needed a haircut anyways and it wasn't worth waking the meat-man. She was certain she could find the hydro-house on her own. And he'd had a bit of a nasty bedroom temper last night. Rilan Hex was a woman who enjoyed a wide variety of love-play but she didn't think she wanted to deal with that temper outside of the bedroom. Not today. She was hungover and already late and feeling mean as a snake. The knife slid smoothly through her hair with a soft snicking noise and with joldting suddenness she was free. Shummying into yesterday's discarded clothes she made her way from the bedroom to the house proper, whistling softly under her breath. That was the other reason she'd gone home with hom. Meat-man was loaded.

-----

Miles stared across a vast expanse of prairie. It was dusty and hot and not even a tumbleweed stirred. His eye gave an irritated twitch and he spat on the ground. <******** stranded. In the godsdamned desert. And it was high ******** noon on this ******** rock. Damn her. Hamn that godsdamned Rilan Hex to the very bowels of hell. She was late.

The only thing breaking up the endless view of dirt was the shovel and three crates resting near Miles. He cursed and kicked at one of the crates, the sweet jingling sound of semi-precious drug containers making him feel a little better. It had only been a little side-job, but it paid in meds that they couldl egally sell on any planet or port. Or illegally on the black market for ten times the value. Just something to kill time, really. Keep the Alliance off their backs. Damn Rilan Hex. It was HOT out here!

------

"You're late." Hammer's massive, dark form was reclining lazily in the cargo bay as RIlan entered the ship. "Captain's gonna be piiissed." He added with a gleefully malicious grin.

Rilan glared bullets at the man and none too gently threw a rucksack at him. "Make yourself useful." She growled as he peeked into the bag, eyes widening with suprise and pleasure.

"Heeey, tomatoes!" Hammer exclaimed, digging around. "And bananas! And.. cabbage!" He pulled out the leafy green vegetable, tossing it from hand to hand. "Big one. Heavy, too. Good eatin'."

Rilan snorted and ingnored him, clomping her way to the bridge. Moments later the engines fired up and there was a general jolting around as they lifted off. Their departure was not smooth... Rilan was clearly in one of her fouler moods. Taking the sack of goodies, Hammer made his way to the messroom and the cramped little kitchen therein.

----

The kitchen was small and run-down, but spotless nevertheless, pots gleaming in the dim light, cooking knives lovingly sharpened and shined. It was important to keep one's knives in good condition, wether they were intended to cut food or threaten people. Hammer loved his knives. They all had special names and uses, even the kitchen knives.

Whistling, he set Rilan's bounty out on the counter and surveyed it. Tomatoes and bananas, the massive cabbage, several small satsumas and a huge summer sausage. Whoever she'd gone home with last night must have been pleased with her. Or, more likely, given her mood, the goods weren't exactly taken with blessing or permission.

Stew. Hammer decided to himself, pulling out several containers of freeze-dried and dehydrated foodstuffs and a generous chunk of standardized all-purpose protein material. The sausage he would save for later. Swiftly and gracefully he diced tomatoes, cubed protein and added dehydrated onion and carrot to the bre he'd begun simmering. Then he pulled out a large gleaming knife and centered the huge cabbage on the cutting board. With a smooth gesture that should have easily rendered the cabbage in two pieces he brought down the knife.

-----

Mile's mood had only grown worse as the sun continued to beat down on him. Finally - FINALLY! He heard the humming whine of Swansong's atmospheric engines. "It's about ******** time!" He shouted at the ship, even though he knew nobody could hear him. It landed and the cargo door folded open. Nobody apparently felt it necessary to help him load the bodes, though. He wasn't suprised at Rilan staying inside but Hammer could always be relied on. It was a part of their livelihood, after all. "Hammer!" The captain bellowed, in no mood for games.

A moment later the big man appeared, looking distracted and distressed and clutching what appeared to be part of a knife. The blade had a massive half-moon shaped dent in it. "Sorry Captain. Damndest thing..." He began loading boxes while he talked. "Rilan brings back a bunch of veg, right? An' it's all normal looking and stuff but when I go to chop up the cabbage.." He held the injured knife aloft. "See what it's done to poor Betsy here?" He let out a sentimental sniff and hit the manual switch to close the cargo doors.

Miles was just glad to be back on his ship. He'd bought Swansong for, well, a song some six years ago and got her running through his own blood, sweat and tears. She wasn't intended for atmospheric flight originally but Miles was good with ships, he'd made the necessary additions and now the battered old boat was effective anywhere he wanted to take her.

"A cabbage did that?" He finally asked as they started moving again. Really, for one of Hammer's knives to be dented like that... "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna have words with that girl."

Miles was planning on having words with Rilan Hex as well. At least he could now make a reasonable guess as to why she'd been so late. Not that it made him any less cranky about it.

.:ARKROSE:.

"I dont like it. I dont like it at all." Rilan shielded her eyes and looked at the dilapidated clapboard building. The dingy sign that swung over the door read "Doc Lamb. Prophecies to order." Over a picture of a horse's skull.

"What," Hammer grinned, "scared of the doctor?"

"He's not a doctor, he's a quack." Rilan spat back.

"He's not a quack." Miles put in mildly. "He's a terrorist."

"S'long as he doesn't terrorize me." Rilan muttered as they pushed their way into the musty apothecary shop.

Aside from being scrawny and weatherworn, the white-bearded old man behind the counter bore an uncanny resemblence to Santa Clause. He grinned a good-natured gap-toothed grin. "Miles, m'boy!" Doc came around the counter and gave Miles a hearty slap on the back. "It's been too long."

Miles grinned and returned the embrace. "Well, the good old days were a long time ago. It's good to see you, Doc."

"You too, my boy. You too. Been keepin' yourself busy?"

"Got a job or two here and there." He glanced at Hammer who pulled the door of the shop closed and then stood in front of it, massive arms crossed. "You get my letter?"

Doc frowned, turning his keen narrow eyed gaze to Miles and then to Rilan-Hex and Hammer in turn.

"You can trust 'em, Doc." Miles assured him. His crew knew he'd been involved in the losing end of the war against the Alliance. To some extent they'd all been involved, one way or another. Civil War didn't just pass you over. Hammer and Rilan didn't know the details, though.

The bright and shiny Alliance hadn't been the only ones with technical know-how. But they had more money and more power and more people. They'd recruited most of the best scientists in the 'verse. Chemists and biologists and the like. But not all of them. A very small and very organized group had comprised a part of the resistence nicknamed the BloodBacks. Bioterrorists. The organization had, for all intents and purposes, been successfully disbanded after the war. Some of their people had even turned traitor and gone to work for the Alliance. God only knew what they were doing. Miles had gone from distributing biotoxins secretly to the unknowing military masses of the Alliance to running guns. Smuggling was far safer than poisoning people for a living in the long run.

Some of the BloodBacks had retreated deep underground though, to continue their work. It had been Doc Lamb's idea to feed on the rampant supersitions of the general borderland populace and use fortune-telling and prophecy and cure-alls as a cover, earning them the title "swamp-witch". Synonymous with charlatan. And so the rebellion lived on quietly. For now.

"Yeah, I got your letter." Doc frowned a little. "You'd better be careful. Neuro-toxin chips are not something to ******** around with."

"You know me, Doc." Miles gave him a rakish grin and slid a briefcase across the counter. "Caution is my middle name."

Doc harrumphed and inspected the contents of the case, then very carefully set his own locked, sealed and reinforced briefcase on the counter. "Two hundred doxin-chips. As requested."

Miles didn't bother to check the case, Doc could be trusted implicitly. Set properly into the pulse-guns, the chips would emit a highly unpleasant neuro-toxin every time the gun was fired. The toxin would be carried on the pulse wave with enough force to embed itself subdermally in whoever got hit. The paralyzation effect could last up to thirty hours.

"Thanks, Doc." Miles grinned, patting to top of the briefcase. "I owe you one."

"Yeah you do." Despite the gruff tone of his voice, he was smiling. "Reckon you shouldn't be such a stranger."

"You know how it is - a wandering wastrel am I. Girl in every port. That sort of thing."

From the corner, Rilan snickered. Hammer coughed, choking back his own laugh. The flap of the backpack he wore shifted, revealing a flash of leafy green.

"Whats that?" Doc's keen eyes missed little.

"You carried that stupid thing this whole way?" Rilan moaned in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Thought the Doc might tell us something." Hammer said, pretending to sulk. "It's a cabbager, Doc. But it's a weird cabbage. Broke my best kitchen knife, it did." As he was speaking he took the cabbage from his bag and stepped forward to set it on the counter.

"Where'd you get it?" Doc fingered one of the leaves thoughtfully.

"Rilan lifted it off some guy." Miles rolled his eyes. "It's a Gaian cabbage, whatever the hell that is."

Doc's eyes flashed with interest and something predatory. "Really? And it broke your knife? Mind if I take it into my workroom for a better look?"

Miles shrugged. "You can keep it if you want. We thought we might see if we couldn't trade it for something useful. 'Cept it doesn't seem edible."

"Hrmmph. I don't think you want to do that, but give me a moment." Doc scooped up the vegetable and retreated behind a beaded curtain into a dark little room. Lighting a lantern, he studied the cabbage. Taking out a stethoscope he listened carefully, and there it was. The faint ba-bump-ba-bump sound of a heart beating. He had heard vaguely of Dr. Akari and the work she was doing, but he had no idea how one of her precious cabbages had made it all the way out to the bitter backwaters of the 'verse. His gain, though. His gain. Doc took a wretchedly dirty and rusted watering can out from the recesses of a cupboard where it had sat, long-forgotten until now. He added water. And then he took a small key from his pocked and unlocked a cabinet, drawing out a small black box. In the box was a vial about halfway full of a faintly glowing pink liquid. Two carefully measured drops went into the watering can and were swirled around with the water before being poured gently over the cabbage. Doc was pleased with how quickly the liquid was absorbed. He put everything away as carefully as he had taken it out and stared at the cabbage for a full minute, his expression distant and thoughtful. Then from a drawer he removed a small leather bound journal stamped with the words "ARKROSE registry" and made a notation on the first blank page.

"Well, Doc?" Miles asked when the doctor and the cabbage re-emerged into the shop proper. "Whats the prognosis?"

"You don't want to be giving this away." Doc Lamb's eyes twinkled with satisfaction and mirth. "It's a manufactured cabbage, a Dr. Akari makes them and yes, she can be found on Gaia, so I hear." The doctor smiled. "But I'd hang on to it if I were you. Water it a bit. It'll just get more valuable as time goes on."

"So it's worth something?" Rilan jumped in eagerly.

"Oh yes. It's worth more than you know."