Grunsfeld Platform, Cao Guojiu - 3309-09-24 19:39 GST
Harold Barker stepped out of the elevator into the pilots' service concourse on Grunsfeld Platform. This orbital outpost was somewhere he had visited before on a few occassions. On the surface it was a refinery outpost in a Federation controlled system, merely place where miners sold the minerals that they extracted from asteroids. However, the people here had an anarchic streak, and the station had a reputation for being a smugglers' den and a meeting place for those who lived outside the law. It was a place where Harlod liked to do business. He ignored the man standing near the Apex Interstellar desk trying to catch his attention and turned right to descend the stairs that lead down to the bar. The man was a faction contact that he had worked for before, and he probably had a job for him. Today, however, Harold wasn't interested. He had just completed a mission and he was looking for his contact, Elizabeth Cartwright. Today, it was time to get paid.
He had known Elizapeth since childhood. They looked out for each other. He provided muscle when she needed it, and she put him contact with people who had jobs that needed doing. It worked well for both of them. This particular job paid very well indeed, though, he probably wouldn't be going back to the Barkan system any time soon.
Harold paused at entrance to the bar and took a good look at the area. A few of the locals paused their drinking or their conversations to inspect him suspiciously, but lost interest after a few seconds and continued what they were doing before he had arrived. Harold spotted Elizabeth sitting at the bar hunched over a drink. Her long wavy red hair was tied up in a pony tail. She wore a crimson flight suit, with a tan coloured leather jacket over it. He strode directly across the room towards her.
"It's done." he said.
Elizabeth turned around on her seat and glared at him. "What's done, Harry?"
"The mission. It's done.", he replied, slightly confused.
"And what mission would that be, Harry?"
"Quit frakking around, Liz. You know the mission. You sent me on it."
"Humour me Harry, and tell me what the mission was, exactly."
"You asked me to fly to Zsigmond Manufacturing Installation, in Barkan, and download the chemical formulae from the data port there."
"No Harry. That wasn't the mission. The mission was to fly to Zsigmond Manufacturing Installation, in Barkan, and covertly download the chemical formulae from the data port there."
"Well, nobody saw me do it, did they, and I got the data, so what's the problem?"
"Nobody saw you download the data, that much is true, but we can hardly describe a settlement full of corpses as covert, can we? It's not exactly subtle. It's not something that someone wouldn't notice."
"I don't see the problem. I was asked to steal some data, and I stole the data."
"The problem Harry is that the data was supposed to be a little bonus. The icing on the cake, as it were. The real job was to make it look like one of the researchers there had downloaded it. My employers had spent a few months and a few million credits to make it look like another faction had bribed said researcher to steal the data. They hoped that this would precipitate a civil war that they could take advantage of. That plan, however, was ruined, because some frakking asshole shot the afore mentioned researcher in the face with a plasma pistol, a full minute before the data download began."
"Ah don't be like that Liz. So I made a small mistake. You don't have to be so grumpy about it. I thought we were friends."
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "We are friends, Harry", she said softly, "And I haven't forgotten how you looked after me when we were growing up. That's the only reason that you aren't a cooling cloud of gasses in deep space right now. My employers are deeply scary people and get very upset when people mess up their plans. When this plan went bad, they were very upset indeed. Normally, when they get this upset, the only thing that calms them down is hearing that the people that upset them had died horribly. I pointed out that there were a few people that had upset them still walking around, and that you had a talent for killing, and given what happened at Zsigmond Manufacturing Installation, it wasn't too hard to convince them of that fact."
Elizabeth reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a data chip. She pushed it along the bar towards Harry.
"They want you to eliminate someone for them. All the details are on the chip. Do that and they'll overlook your mistake."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll probably die horribly. Me too, perhaps, for hiring you."
"I'm sorry, Liz, I didn't think."
"You rarely do, Harry.", she replied sadly.
Harold picked up the data chip and shook his head.
"Don't frakk this one up Harry", Elizabeth said as he turned to leave, "Because if you do, then we are both done. Do you understand? Done!
Author's note:This story was inspired by a picture prompt provided by CMDR Dodes. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Here's the words that I owe, give or take a few, much delayed.