So a little background for this story. Set in the future where earth has successfully expanded and seeded a number of planets, the story is set a twenty or so years after Earth failed to maintain unity and control over a group of seeded planets. Distance and the differents in governments from planet to planet has proven difficult to manage for a fledgeling space empire. Earth finds itself with the dilemma of intergalactic crime and has to reinstitute Government employed bounty hunters.
This story revolves around two main characters, "Birdcage," a Government sanctioned bounty tearm leader and his contract tracker and weapons expert "Scarecrow." The story revolves around their efforts hunting down a variety of miscreants.
It's a fun little exercise as I'm trying to scope out how little I can nudge our technological development as whole while at the same time having the story remain fun with little quirks.
I wrote this random piece up on my ipod while up north with family. It was a little bit of escapism and basically involves a lot of talking and a hint of character relationship development.
Anyhow, enjoy :)
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Scarecrow walked through the colonial slum with an air of confidence that could only be exuded by a man who bore the five star shoulder tattoo. He rolled one sleeve up to prove a point to a security guard who tried to eyeball him. The man averted his gaze hurriedly and checked his data pad as Scarecrow reached him.
"I'm on the list." Scarecrow said simply.
The man on the door looked pointedly at Birdcage, who was trying to lurk in the shadows despite his impressive bulk.
"He on the list too, mate?" The guard ventured.
Scarecrow tapped his shoulder pointedly, "he answers to me."
The man on security weighed his options. Anyone with the tattoo was to be treated with respect and in extreme cases, awe. Scarecrow looked like the men who had fought tooth and nail for the colony...and the man with him looked like a Hunter-a Unification sponsored Bounty Hunter. He wasn't dressed as one but he had the vibe; could be very bad for business.
The guard chose to trust the man with the tattoo. "Go on in, mate." He grunted.
Scarecrow pushed through the club door and didn't look back. Birdcage squeezed in to follow, noting the suspicious glare of the man on the door as he did so.
"I didn't realize that you fivers held that tat with such high regard" Birdcage whispered.
Scarecrow rolled his sleeve down before replying, "Mate, you can't even begin to comprehend my home-world if something simple like body art is confusing you."
Birdcage ignored the friendly jibe because he knew that he was pretty much in the dark when it came to Scarecrow. The man was an enigma, but not because he was mysterious. Scarecrow just seemed to get so involved with everyone else's lives and cultures that there never seemed to be time for him to talk about himself.
"I'm starting to think you've been deliberately keeping me out of the loop, 'crow." Birdcage said.
He looked around the club itself as he spoke, eyeing the patrons in what could have been considered a casual interest. Most of them seemed to wear the same rough and ready cut of clothing that Scarecrow was so fond of. There were a number of prosthetics that were of obvious colonial design- which usually meant there were a couple smugglers tools or weapons stowed away in those metal limbs. Of course he noticed the obvious bulges of poorly concealed materiel.
Birdcage looked back to Scarecrow, eyeing the back of his friend's head as they walked to a booth on the far wall. There was definitely something different about the man when he was with his people.
"Magpie, how you doin'?"
The question came from a wrinkled little old man who sat in one recess of the booth. Birdcage knew that the Far Colonists had their own dialects and manners of speech that bordered on the depths of a new language, so he wondered if this was Scarecrow's true name or merely the Colonist equivalent.
Scarecrow answered the question for him when he took the old man's hand and muttered, "It's Scarecrow, uncle."
The old man smiled with sparkling green eyes and motioned for the two of them to sit down. As Birdcage squeezed into the booth, the old man turned to analyse him.
"Not often that we get a freebie like you in here, big fella" The man commented, the smile still warm on his face.
Birdcage wasn't sure how to reply to that and simply shrugged noncommittally.
Scarecrow put his fists on the table with deliberate care as he said, "He's muscle with me. Can't be too careful these days."
The old man laughed, "Life must be hard if the mighty little Magpie has to pay for protection. "He pointed at Scarecrow, the smile not leaving his face for a second. "You must be up to your neck in it if you reckon a meatshield is going to be helpful to you."
Birdcage watched as Scarecrow went slightly crimson, whether from anger or embarrassment he didn't know.
The mighty little Magpie who stopped the boarding of the Douglas Frigate single handed," the old man continued, "The Magpie who sniped an entire platoon of freebies during the four day war! The Magpie who became a legend for the Five Star Army for his mastery of the guerrilla craft!"
The old man paused and looked pointedly at Birdcage before continuing, "THAT Magpie wouldn't need extra muscle unless he was employed by it. Isn't that right, Mr Birdcage?"
Birdcage suddenly felt as though he was in over his head and sinking fast.
Scarecrow groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Uncle, keep that quiet. The war was a long time ago. Magpie is history now."
The old man glowed with obvious pride as he added, "Magpie IS history now. All the young Fivers study what you did during that war as part of their training these days."
Birdcage was impressed. He had never known Scarecrow to shy away from compliments to his skill or craft, but he seemed uncomfortable under his "Uncle's" enthusiasm. Birdcage decided to throw his mate a bone and spoke.
"So...uncle. How do you know my name?" Birdcage asked, smiling.
The old man leaned back as he spoke, "I hear things. Mr Scarecrow here, as he calls himself these days, is one of my nephews. I hear he's working for you and that you're good to him. You gotta look after family, cus."
"Uncle, that war was a long time ago, I'm not your nephew no more." Scarecrow ventured, almost unsure at his own voice, "I work free now."
"Then why you still calling me uncle, Magpie?" The old man chuckled, obviously enjoying himself. "Besides, we still family, right?"
Birdcage wasn't remotely surprised when the man rolled up his sleeve to show the same, albeit faded, tattoo. Scarecrow shrugged at the sight of it and pushed his mirrored lenses back up his nose.
"Uncle, I need to find a runner-a bird: a fugitive." Scarecrow said in a serious tone. "He's a freebie who has it in his head to hide himself as a Fiver. You seen anyone who doesn't talk the talk or walk the walk?"
Birdcage watched as "Uncle" began to lose his happy countenance. A storm seemed to break on his side of the table.
"You tellin' me some freebie is tryin' to pull a fast one as a Fiver?" Growled the old man.
"That's exactly what I'm sayin'." Scarecrow spat in response.
Birdcage was secretly glad that someone understood what had been said. He felt that he was a few pages behind the script. As the conversation had progressed the two "Fivers" had broadened their accents and had proceeded to dive into their own thick dialect. It wasn't an unpleasant language, but it took some mental cogitation to figure it out.
Birdcage really wished that his in ear translator could do a better job of scrubbing up their conversation.
"Show me his ugly mug." The old man managed to ask, his voice heavy with anger.
Scarecrow nodded to Birdcage. This was his field of expertise.
"Got him right here...uh, Uncle" Birdcage said as he fished inside one of his many pockets.
As Birdcage fished, he became acutely aware of how many guns were being pointed at him right now. His soldier sense was drumming a beat in the back of his skull and a hidden piece of military tech was counting gun sights into his ear.
He really wished that he was wearing more than basic body armour.
He pulled a digital arrest warrant very slowly from his pocket and placed it on the table. The whole bar seemed to hold its breath as Birdcage activated the holographic device; evidently there was fear of a booby trap.
"Morgan Snapf" the device read as a 3D rendition of the man burst into existence and rotated slowly above them. "Wanted for the murder of three Free colony peacekeepers and chief suspect of multiple terrorist activities resulting in the death of four Unification merchants and forty-seven civilian shoppers on Earth.
"Morgan Snapf is rumoured to be the founder of a retro-aggression Terrorist cell known as "The Southern Cross." This cell is infamous for their aggressive separatist stance-
Scarecrow stopped the Warrant's playback. "Except the bastard isn't a Fiver and he ain't fightin' for a separate colony." Scarecrow hissed, red with rage. "He's a thief. Just a thief who gets his thrills by killing civilians. He's givin' us all a bad name."
Birdcage noticed how 'crow tapped his tattooed shoulder as he spoke. There was some bad blood brewing here and Birdcage was realizing that this wasn't going to be just a simple bounty rundown.
The Uncle looked daggers at the arrogant hologram hanging in front of him. He seemed to be thinking things through, so 'crow pushed his point home.
"If Snapf keeps this up, and keeps people thinking that the Fivers are supporting terrorism in the Free colonies...well..." Scarecrow paused for effect, "We could have another war on our hands, and all because some freebie couldn't keep his sticky fingers to himself."
"If this boy," Uncle said slowly, pointing at the still frozen hologram. "No...if this freebie reckons he can start pullin' our good names through the mud...by hell or high water we're going to have his guts for garters before the week is through!"
There was a resounding cheer through the club as the regulars stood and toasted to their chief's oath.
Birdcage tapped Scarecrow on the shoulder as the club erupted into further oaths and general exuberance. Scarecrow looked at him with a lazy grin.
"What's on your mind, mate?"
"'Crow," Birdcage started, "You do realize that we only came here for info on Snapf, right? We didn't come here to incite a lynch mob."
Scarecrow grinned and shifted his glasses again, "Well look at it this way; we have Fiver's backing us to take this bugger down in Fiver Space. Not many Freebie bounty hunters get that kind of support."
Someone cheered as a fresh round of drinks was passed around. Even the previously-enraged Uncle began to quaff with the rest of them. Birdcage raised a questioning eyebrow at his partner.
"How is one bar of drunken revellers getting us that kind of support?" He asked.
Scarecrow pointed at their little host who was shouting from her place in the centre of the heavy drinkers. He laughed and said, "Because that "Uncle" of mine is Peter Ashton, former Commander General of the United Southern Cross Colonial Forces."
Birdcage's mouth dropped open.
Scarecrow leaned over to his partner and whispered into his ear, "He's kind of a big deal."
"You're telling me that he's the man who singlehandedly defied the Free Colony Unification order?" Birdcage hissed hurriedly.
Scarecrow leaned back into his seat, "we-ell I don't know about singlehandedly. He had three hundred million volunteer USCCF forces behind him."
Birdcage stared at the good General.
"We all sort of said a collective "bugger off" to your government's offer" Scarecrow continued, chuckling to himself.
Birdcage was starting to remember his Unification history and was beginning to see his partner in a whole new light. He shook his head and stood up. History needed to wait until they had Snapf stowed safely away in a cage on ship.
"You and I are going to have words, 'crow." Birdcage said, shaking his head. "But first you are going to ask the good General if he could get our man's location, so we can get there before the lynch mob. I don't fancy serving an arrest warrant to a bloody smear."
Scarecrow raised his glasses and winked roguishly, "I'll see what I can do for you mate, but no promises."
