From the Journal of Zachariah Popper
Ambivalence, eh? We all saw the footage that was broadcast. We all shared the revulsion at what Brocero had done. We all watched the security camera’s while Foxx and there friends chased after Brocero and his cronies, fought the android and were “taken into custody for questioning”. On our side we couldn’t help but have mixed feelings. Some of us had been working for weeks to make the Gala happen. Months in my case. I had been hired specifically to provide IT support which had included a lot more work than typical IT support. Trilby had made it happen and it was really nice to have a regular income without having to look over my shoulder. I mean, I still did, but I probably didn’t need to. Maybe it would have turned out differently if Kabir hadn’t fallen ill and Trilby hadn’t had to step away from the project and jump back home. Not his fault though. Couldn’t Foxx and Friends have found another way? I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. Things that happen stay happened. Don’t I know it. Anyway, somehow Foxx had managed to instal some anti-relay-cut off devices and without a power saw we had no chance of getting them out during the broadcast. I mean, who would want to do that anyway? The Duchess of Glisten literally sent a goon to order us to keep broadcasting! They should be pleased that I couldn’t follow the orders of some puffed up middle management arse. But no, sack the guy who is good with tech. So it goes.
Still, maybe I needed the push. I don’t belong in the corporate world, no matter how much I want to believe the contrary. One day someone was going to notice something and report me, or Omicron Devision were going to turn up, no matter how hard I try to pretend to not be what I am. I didn’t ask for this. Ok, I sort of did, and it would have come out eventually, but fundamentally, I didn’t ask to be this. I’ll get back on the road and do that Astro-Caching which I have seen advertised on the Datanets. It was that thinking which led me to the Small Traders Hall. I didn’t know Karl had been involved with things as I was busy with my job, so I didn’t know he wouldn’t be there. I thought that he might be able to give me a job, maybe more permanent this time. My earlier stint on the Lola had been to pay my way. And he only allowed that because Hortal had broken his hip and then been too drunk to notice after that drinking game on, wherever it was. Even another five months of stripping down those naughty word M-Drives of his during each jump was better than hanging around glisten with only 150 credits in your pocket. None of them know, of course, but none of them care, either. So it seemed like a good bet. But Karl was in hospital after the Brocero people naughty word with him, at least one other small ship’s captain had died and the funeral was going on as I arrived. Which means the place was empty, bar a few stragglers. Apparently the dead guy was a friend or enemy of all the small traders in the sector. So it goes.
Trilby had suggested that I do more with myself. He’s always concerned that I’m “not living up to my potential”. Fortunately, I took his advice and enrolled in a pilots course some time ago (I was probably dreaming about getting a mortgage and going Astro-Caching). I passed first time. Wirklich sieben. The astrogation classes had been easier. Which was nice as I spent all my money, including the cash I had saved doing the brokering on the side. So here I am, sitting in the Small Traders Hall, hoping to meet someone who will give me a job at the most inappropriate time imaginable. So it goes.
Hello, you can call me Joe. You know the saying “no sophant is illegal”? Well I am. I really am.
