Sean-Michael Argo - Hard Cargo

“The Hyst family calls and the Rig Halo answers,” smiled Dar as he swept his arms wide. The man’s flair for dramatics ran counter to the more reserved cultural tendencies of the former Grotto citizens, a character trait of the captain that Samuel found grating.

Orion however, did not share the same feeling, and happily stepped forward to bump his fist against Dar’s as he crossed his legs, bending at the knees slightly to perform a swordsman’s bow. The movement was mirrored by Dar, who had taught it to the boy when Orion and Sura were on their own, while Samuel was embedded in the Ellisian trade war. It was a customary greeting aboard the Halo , also in common use among space pirates, which as far as Samuel was concerned, described the crew of the Rig Halo in everything but name.

“What have they been feeding you?” laughed Dar as he clamped his hands against Orion’s shoulders. “I’d wager if you were on Baen 6 right now you’d be the biggest kid in the stacks!”

Samuel bristled at the captain’s familiarity but did his best not to let it show. Dar had saved Sura and Orion from the massacre on Pier 16, and in spite of his obvious desires and reputation as lady’s man, he’d never pressed Sura. They’d lived aboard his ship and served on the crew for several years without incident, and the marine had to remind himself of that.

Dar and the crew were taking a significant risk in coming here. Samuel had offered them everything he and Sura had, but he knew full well that their money wasn’t nearly enough to cover the potential risks involved in bringing them aboard. Captain Dar was once again snatching the Hysts from the jaws of doom, and Samuel respected that, was grateful for it, even if his emotions surged and his pride burned.

Samuel was partially thankful that the man in the Helion armor stepped directly in front of him, looking the homesteader up and down. The silent confrontation gave him something to focus his attention on instead of the way that Sura embraced the captain when Dar moved from Orion to greet her.

The man in front of Samuel was slightly taller than the homesteader, and the plates of body armor gave him a broad presence that could not be ignored. Neither could the stout mechanical left arm which cradled the well-worn Helion rifle and though it reminded Samuel of Boss Taggart’s mechanical appendage, the limb was clearly of a finer make.

It was difficult to be this close to that much hardware from a corporation that had been his enemy for so many years, though not nearly so much as it was to count the seconds that Sura held the captain before finally letting him step away and adjust his coat.

“So, this is the Reaper, eh?” scoffed the armored man as he flexed his fingers around the grip of his rifle, his thick Helion accent giving his words a gravelly tone. “They had us believing that all you Tango Platoon grunts were actually Merchants Militant in disguise, some kind of propaganda stunt to make salvage marines seem like more than just low rent scrappers.”

“Narek, back off!” snapped Dar as he turned from Sura and glared at his security chief, his face a flash of anger over the botched moment of reunion.

“I’m just saying he looks like a regular guy is all,” grumbled the Helion man as he took a step backward and waved his mechanical hand in a gesture of begrudging acceptance. The muzzle of his rifle drifted ever so slightly in Samuel’s direction as his stance shifted to support the movement. “Plenty of folks in the verse who can pull a trigger and work a torch. People who don’t have to buy into our license under the table. Trying to ghost out of here like they are, maybe there’s a reward that’s worth more than their buy-in.”

The armored man’s eyes glittered as he spoke, and Samuel recognized the look, feeling as if he had it in his own eyes at that moment. The Ellisian trade war was a long time ago, but for the men and women who’d fought through it, the flood of memories was on a hair trigger.

Samuel could see the service decals, faded though they were, emblazoned on the man’s shoulder piece. That armor had seen duty across the Ellisian Line, showing three different grey octagonal symbols that Samuel knew represented Gedra tomb world campaigns. Samuel also recognized two red triangles with a series of circles and hatch marks, and though he did not know which specific engagements they might refer too, he did know that they represented battles with Grotto forces. From the way Narek wore the armor, Samuel guessed that it belonged to the man, and if that was the case, the homesteader was standing in front of a Helion battle trooper. All of a sudden, the old war felt fresh as ever, and Samuel felt his hand stray to hover just above the grip of his combo revolver where it rested in a thigh holster.

He might be a former Reaper, but being a marine was for life, and it took everything Samuel had not to escalate.

“Captain, with all due respect,” hissed Samuel through gritted teeth as he willfully kept his hand off of his weapon, breathing in and out slowly as he worked to calm himself, to overcome the innate desire to fight an old enemy, “Your man here is damaging my calm.”

“Stand down, gentlemen,” commanded Dar as he stepped towards the two men with hands resting on the handles of his sword and pistol. His tall frame and wind-whipped cape added a weight to his words that caught the attention of both Samuel and Narek, the captain being well versed in how to speak to military men.

“That war is over and happened on the other side of the universe. While I appreciate that no man can walk away from a protracted conflict like that without some baggage, this posturing is not solving anything. Your corporate affiliations no longer apply here, and I will not have members of my crew at each other’s throats.”

Samuel took a deep breath and slowly moved his hand away from his pistol as he briefly dipped his head in acknowledgment. Narek finally grunted and slid his rifle along its strap to put it in a carry position. Dar looked at each man for a moment longer then the security chief turned and walked back towards the Rig . Dar turned to the other two security crew that had been with Narek.

“They don’t have much, but help Orion here see it to their quarters if you please,” said Dar, his words sending the two men into action. They helped Orion load a small dolly skiff with the meager belongings of the Hyst family.

The captain turned fully towards Samuel and Sura, a tiny smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he caught sight of Sura slipping a small holdout pistol back into the folds of her waistband.

“I apologize for Narek, he is a relatively new addition to the crew,” said Dar as he adjusted his weapons and coat, more to occupy his hands than to fix any kind of disheveled appearance. “I found him on Cresseda, hellish place that little moon, essentially a series of bars and cheap hab-stacks that serve as a clearinghouse for non-union mercs, so he is still learning proper ship’s decorum.”

“I know things get violent sometimes,” nodded Sura before she lifted her personal pack off the ground and pushed the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear, a gesture which Samuel could not help but notice he and Dar both appeared fond of. “But why would the Rig need mercs on the crew?”

“The short answer is that necrospace is getting more dangerous, just like you’ve learned out here on the frontier,” answered Dar, his expression darkening, as he gestured for the two homesteaders to walk with him towards their cabin, “The trade war and all of those new worlds across the Ellisian Line, dead as they may be, has had something of a ripple effect. The commodities markets are more volatile than ever, fortunes won and lost in the blink of an eye.