waterfront district

Blue Bayou Restaurant Disneyland, originally uploaded by Mandi Coleman.

Just Reward

Since Port Martini had been built to natural human specs, it had the customary seedy waterfront district....or at least the illusion of such.....the Down Lounge franchise store had a prime address in this district, next to the "iconic Blue Bayou", on Fisherman's Wharf itself. The day cycle was blending into dusk, as two non-humans rose from the bar, to settle the tab, and make towards the boardwalk. One was a humanoid cyborg, the crash-test dummy type....the other was from the gene-vats, the giant cockroach model.....both built to the two-meter scale, to fit in a human oriented station.

They had been sucking on stimulant tubes all afternoon, and had purchased a liter bottle of Just Reward as they left the Lounge, carrying it in the traditional brown paper bag. They were headed towards the end of the pier, where the clever illusion was maintained of a greasy salt-water bay merging somehow beyond logic with the cold starry void around the station docking tubes, where spaceships tied up.

"Why do you suppose a Treaty frigate is coming in?" pondered the dummy.

"Beats me" says the roach. "But she sure is a pretty looking thing, haint she?"

"Yeh, I'd like one of those myself, you could sure kick some butt around here with something like that."

They leaned against the railing, and started to pass the paper bag back and forth, studying the purposeful lines of the trim warship with professional appreciation.

In the Blue Bayou, the manager was calling in extra bar girls for the late shift, in anticipation of a Fleet ship on station.....

multi-megaton quantum cannon

_MG_0044, originally uploaded by wesflix9.

The analysis of the situation....

Commander Harkis was bringing the frigate in towards Port Martini largely out of curiosity....he had never really been beyond Treaty space before, and he wondered what sort of people lived out on the frontier fringes, beyond the jurisdiction of the Omnibus Treaty, but still within the human pale? He would rely on Lt. Rose to brief him on the particulars....that was her job, after all, to know the legal ins and outs and such....

So he was informed that Port Martini was the center of a Regional Authority, as recognized under Article 47 of the Frontier Protocols which were reached at the end of the last round of hostilities between the hybrid buffer states and the natural human client entities which more or less represented Treaty interests this far down towards galactic center, where the ancient machine culture held sway over vast star clusters. The hybrid states were dominated by cyborg clans and gene-altered biological tribes....."borgs and biots" in popular parlance.....Treaty Forces were of course tasked with keeping these creatures away from natural human space as much as possible.

But money talks, and there was money to be made in trade with the galactic center, so a degree of tolerance was needed along the frontier.....there had to be some place where deals could be made between corporations under Treaty jurisdiction that wanted the exotic products of machine culture, and the various shady and semi-legal associations which operated in the buffer states along the edge of that culture. Port Martini was such a place, and business there was booming.....

"In short" concluded Lt. Rose, "Any Treaty warship does not go into Regional space displaying any tough-guy attitude. You go in with weapons powered down and locked off, asking for docking permission, the ship all spiffed up and proper to show the flag in a friendly manner. That is official procedure. And besides, the quantum cannon emplacements ringing the Port have the megatonnage to crack this boat like an egg for breakfast, Sir."

"I hear and understand your analysis Miz Rose, thank you." says the Commander.

Space Port

Space Port, originally uploaded by Shaina (RegalsGirl).

Commander Harkis

quite often referred to as Commander Hardass....behind his back or not, he didn't seem to mind much.....the Commander sat at the command post, pleased with himself after blasting the jackers into puffs of plasma.....Lt. Lily Rose, the Situation Analyst, and Second on the bridge at the moment, watched him grin and swivel slightly back and forth in the big chair.....she thought he was quite a character.....long red hair, huge red beard, tufts of red hair pushing from ears and nostrils.....eyes so blue they were blank. A scion of an old Martian family.....spacers for generations.....the type of dude who usually made her want to puke, except that this clown seemed to always know what he was doing, and did it right.

"Second" he addressed her...."Lay in for Port Martini, I want to see what the hell a place out in the middle of effing nowhere with a silly name looks like, if you please."

"Aye, Sir."

Meanwhile, deep within Authority Command, Port Martini.....an older fellow with a white beard, but hair still mostly dark, pulled back into a ponytail.....sat scanning readouts on a host of holoscreens, as was his wont during working hours.....he re-ran the holo of the Treaty frigate dusting the bugger pirates.....damn, Treaty fuckers poking around again....wish they didn't mess around so much on Regional turf.....we don't get any damn Treaty Council money, what makes them think they own this space? The name plate on his desk, what someone coming in through the door would see boldly displayed, simply said AUTHORITY.....that's who he was, and you better believe it.....

Lt. Lily Rose knew what the local situation was, down to the nuts and bolts of it.....after all, that was her job description. Off duty now, she was leaning back in the Lounge, sort of amused by her imaginings of the prospective meeting between Mr. Hardass and Mr. Regional Authority.....she would have to brief the Commander as best she could of course.....duty and all....but he would get his hackles up she thought, when she told him this was one pissing-match he might he might find getting his boots wet.....

one of the new Treaty frigates....

Thorian flying Punisher, originally uploaded by Kratax Skillman.

Out from Port Martini

six days ship time.....the tramp freighter had run into pirates....hijackers in two war surplus fastboats, armed with jury-rigged velocity cannon. There was nothing for the Captain to do but power down and heave to, dead in space.....the shitbirds weren't going to get much for their trouble anyway....the cargo was nothing more than raw Class Five biobrew....stuff like you feed to yeast vats making generic fiber for the cheapest of consumables......they would probably be pissed, and might try to take out their frustration on him and his scanty crew.....they were running on mostly robotics, as usual.

But, just as the one fastboat came in close to approach the main airlock, a wanking big flare came up on the sensors.....damn if it wasn't a Treaty warship! Looked like a one of the new frigates......the hijackers tried to high-tail it.....a couple of pops from the frigate's energy weapons, and they were toast.....clouds of expanding vapor and small debris.....

On the bridge of the warship, the Commander asked the Situation Analyst where the old tramp hailed from....."From Port Martini, by her beacon frequency, Sir."

"Port Martini? That's sick...who would put port in a martini?"

Situation gave the Old Man a strange look, trying to figure if that was a real query in the line of duty, or just an off-the-record remark.....she decided it didn't really warrant a reply....

Parajes con gotas de sudor por la frente., originally uploaded by alvarobueno.

The Old Man

Farley was behind his desk in his office, in the middle of the steaming tropical morning, with a gin and tonic sitting in front of him, with a dash of bitters. His eyes were half closed, and he was starting to nod off, sweating in his whites.....outside, the fort was small and frail looking, stuck as it was in the immensity of the green throbbing jungle.....strange birds made strange calls in the heavy air.....beasts slinked and darted here and there.....drums throbbed in the distance, unceasing for days now.....Bentworth, the aide-de-camp, stood in the doorway with a piece of paper in his hand, trying to decide if the Brigadier was asleep or awake....Bentworth finally clicked his booted heels and said "Sir!"

Jerking back to life, the Old Man focused on his aide, and asked him what news?

"Sir," replied Bentworth "The word from Captain Spaulding is that the natives have risen in force all along the Kumbazzie.....Fort William is over-run, no word of survivors." Bentworth refers to his piece of paper....."Telegraphic report from River Station North is that the garrison there is under siege as it were, surrounded by hostiles.....but the lines are still up, as of a half-hour ago anyway.....and Mr. Beacker managed to get his steamboat under way before the savages could capture it, and he is on his way down river, with some of the settlers on board....I don't have a list of names....."

Farley struggled to get a grasp on what he was being told.....the drums kept pounding out in the jungle..... the relentless heat and light flooded through the windows and door.....he drained off his gin and tonic.....

"Well then Bentworth, let's have the troops called to the ready and we'll show these locals what's what, eh?"