The Bitch Back Home

I guess I’m to blame. The guy came, and he was so impressive. From Kusari, the Japanese colonized sector. I’ve always been a fan of Japanese action movies, sabers, samurai honor and style. So here is this guy dressed like a hero from Star Trek, his amazing Dragon heavy fighter ship docked to the right of the bar, we can see it’s fins through the glass. He is frantic:

- Here is what Joey told me you could do for the Order, you gotta get to their depot and check dock number 37, access codes here in this transponder, get the suit and deliver the packet in 4G, Sigma III system.

- Hey man, I love Joey more than anyone, more than that bitch back home if I have to tell you, but I ain’t throw my life away, hell, not even the bitch, just because Joey got his brains soft and gave in to conspiracy theories.

- THIS IS NOT – and he calmed down as quickly as he had become red and crashed the table with his fist with his bare hands cracking it as if it had been a hammer – conspiracy theories, Hispania REALLY is plotting to establish massive intervention! Prices will be indexed, taxes will be raised, monetary exchanged will be twicked with! Hell, they will trash all the prosperity generations have given their sweat and their blood to build! You gotta listen, there is no fooling around in space, a crash in space will certainly claim lives, and there is no telling how many will be lost until production flows get reestablished. And it’s cyclic, meaning, once it stabilizes, it will be just counting down to the next crash.

Damn. The bloody ronin was talking serious issues. I sure as hell didn’t want Hispania, or any other sector if you wanna know, riding my back and telling me when to take from my kids to feed their thirst for power. But I ain’t no idealist either, just wanna get my sorry life going. Hell, I’m balding and losing teeth, I sure don’t get to dream about big pictures too often, just wanna get through the day to my beer and every once in a month to that bitch who wastes all my money. But hey, this is Joey’s message. When did Joey ever let me down? I sure owe him one for taking me from ultra heavy booze into my pilot license when nobody anymore believed I could learn anything. So yeah, I’ll have to find a way to say yes to this joker without making it seem that his cracking of this five inch thick granite table made me soft:

- Ok, Toru san, ok, let’s not get arguing the sex of the angels, hand down the codes, prepare the bounty and wait for me. I’ll be back before you can say hyperthreading deep pipeline.
- (…)
- You were supposed to say hyperthreading deep pipeline.
- Just be on time at 4G, and you will have been worth of Joeysan’s high appraisal of you. And that’s not saying little.
- Yeah, whatever.

But here I am, pinned down in this depot with this wacky homo looking PTT alien shit suit and hearing the Colostel officers working their way through the door locks and wondering what is the amazing solution Joey would come with for when the officers realize all they have to do is to cast an override over the consoles. Hell, I could use a night’s rest with that cold bitch back home, a beer and football.