[M - F04] The Forwarder

[LucByard]

Location: F04 - Illustria.

Tags: Civil, Building.

Previous chapters can be accessed from the AG player list here.

Chapter 17: The Forwarder.

Yseult and Riddaeon walked down the expansive row of shipping containers in the corner of the yard. The air was filled with the heavy industrial sounds of a busy freight port. Cranes, walkers, ships and voices all working through the night to keep the cargo moving. Freight... No wonder Yseult looked so at home; this was her world. Eventually, in what appeared to be a small clearing between the stacks was a lone grey container with ‘IFA’ painted on the side; the acronym for the Independent Freight Association - a Galaxy-wide union for tramp freight operators that acted as a focal point for customs and contract negotiations with the various governments and corporations of Andromeda. Their influence had diminished somewhat in the past year as the ‘big three’ had favoured discounts offered by larger shipping lines or recruited small operators into their own fleet but in some form or other, the IFA was still here.

 

 

It had taken a string of calls and deals to get here and Yseult had refused to tell Riddaeon who it was she was trying to arrange a meeting with. They were supposed to be acquiring a ship... This didn’t look like a starship sales office. Riddaeon knew there were all kinds of small underworld operations going on in the Galaxy but didn’t think Yseult would have been so involved or why they would be going here for a ship when they could requisition one from the MANTIS fleetyard.  Yseult rapped on the container door, the sound reverberating through the metal, then she stood, arms folded and leaned against the door frame. She looked Riddaeon over. “Just remember.” She informed him. “Let me do the talking.”. Riddaeon might have objected to the demotion but the clunk of the locking mechanism on the door releasing prevented him. Yseult grabbed the lever, pulled the container door open and stepped in.

 

 

The container was dim; pale blue lights along the floor and ceiling edges gave the interior an almost misty hue. Directly in front of Yseult was a low table with two chairs positioned opposite each other and stood next to the far chair, a man, stood poised with one arm behind his back.

 

“Yseult Brenneaux!” The man asked in a voice thick with memory and nostalgia.

“Brenneux.” She corrected him. The man’s face turned quizzical. “Are you sure?” He asked. Yseult ignored the question and proceeded to seat herself in the nearest chair. The man looked at Riddaeon, his eyes fixing on the agent. “And who would your MANTIS... associate be?” He asked, his tone changing to one of near disgust. Riddaeon was taken aback. He’d worn civilian clothing to keep his allegiance discreet but the man still knew.

“We’re not here on official business”. Riddaeon replied.

“Of course not.” The man said. “You wouldn’t have gotten half way here if you were.”

 

 

“His name is Riddaeon.” Yseult interjected to break the tension and avoid the tedious posturing she could sense was rapidly approaching. The man broke into a pleasant, if noticeably fake smile. “Well then.” He said as he sat in the chair beside him and carefully slid the gun he’d been holding back into its clip on the underside of table. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your... Unofficial business and we’ll see if I can help.”

“We need a ship.” Yseult said before anyone else tried to engage in small talk. 

“Fine.” The man replied. “What’s your destination?”

“No, to buy.” Yseult responded. The man’s face changed again. More unexpected news.

“What about...” He stopped himself from finishing the question. The look on Yseult’s face told him not to pry on this one. He thought for a moment, his eyes looking over both Yseult and Riddaeon - sizing them up, getting the measure of them. “You want a box runner I presume?” He asked rhetorically. “There’s a few around right now. What are you looking for?” Yseult was staring straight at him, hesitant to ask. The man let out a brief smirk. He knew what she was asking for. “I don’t have one of those.” He said, shaking his head. “No-one does these days.”

“Something quick then.” Yseult replied.

The man tapped a finger on his knee, pondering. He gestured Yseult off the chair. “Stand back”. He said. “I’ll have a look for you.” Yseult got up from the chair and stood aside. When she was clear, the man touched a control somewhere and the table tilted up into the wall of the container. As it did, equipment tilted down from its underside, configuring itself into a screen and control device.

 

 

The man used the touch controls in front of him. “There’s not a lot this time of year.” He said from behind the screen. “There’s always more around Marzn when new models come out but I know a few people who’ve always got something to sell...” The screen tilted back flat allowing the man to look straight at Riddaeon. “... For the right price.” He added. “But that won’t be a problem for you I suppose.” Riddaeon hoped not but this project was off the books and with Big Sal on the run, access to funds wouldn’t be as easy as it usually was. The man looked over to Yseult. “Tee Four-Twenty? Might need some work but she’s in better condition than most.”

“Speedy Owl?” Yseult responded. The man gave a single, confirming nod. Yseult considered the option for a moment. “Okay.” she continued. “We’ll take a look.”

 

The man put the data on a small bio-chip and handed it to Yseult. He looked at her as she went to take it from his hand. “Wherever you’ve been.” He said quietly. “It’s good to have you back.” There was warmth in the words. Yseult’s fingers clasped the chip but the man’s hand held it firm. “There’s always work for a good box runner.” He added. Yseult stopped in her tracks. The man everyone called ‘The Forwarder’ had given her a lot of work in the past but there was a reason no-one knew his real name; some of the work had paid a lot more than the usual rate. But then sometimes, when consignments had been thin on the ground and she was on the verge of having to choose between food and fuel, she knew he’d paid her to run empty containers and put just enough in her account to keep her operating. She was grateful for that. “Thank you”. She said. The Forwarder released the chip and gave Yseult a small acknowledging nod as she took it. She nodded back and turned to leave as a loud metal creak came from Riddaeon already opening the door. Can’t wait to leave.

 

 

The mechanical whirr of gears sounded, the console once again became a table as Yseult walked to the door.  Turning back just before she left. She went to say something but it caught in her throat. She hesitated, changed her mind, turned and left.

 

“Another time perhaps.” The Forwarder said quietly to himself, an air of calculation about him like a chess player considering the multitude of possibilities and implications of an unexpected move.

 

Spoiler

Note to judges: Octan container is for illustrative purposes and has been judged previously.

The container is the same proportions as the previous one but is a completely different design (save for the roof clamps)

Unlike the previous container, the doors on this one open and are fully within the external dimensions.

The two ridges on the roof slot in to spaces on the underside allowing for secure stacking.

The interior contains two chairs of the same design except that the left one has arm-rests.

The room at the back contains The Forwarder's indispensable espresso coffee machine, complete with built-in bean hopper and steam arm.

The console folds up to the underside of the table which can then fold down into the table position.

Did you spot the model ship behind The Forwarder's chair? Any guesses which ship it could be?

 

Spoiler

“She’s trouble.”

 

 

The voice came from the doorway to the small room at the back of the container. The Forwarder turned, surprised to see a man standing there, tall with slick hair and a drawn face wearing a black suit. The look of surprise soon left The Forwarder’s face. His glance casually returned back to the door and his thoughts to the red-haired woman. “She’s no-one.” he replied.

“She isn’t playing the game.” The man said stepping forward, the shine on his black polished shoes reflecting glints of blue from the floor lights. Once he reached the far end of the container, he stopped for a moment and straightened his stance, his back to The Forwarder. “Don’t bother.” he announced. The Forwarder slowly retracted his hand from where his gun was clipped to the table. The man in the suit turned his head to the side towards The Forwarder. “How is your hand?” He asked. The Forwarder felt a twinge in his right hand, the kind you only felt when reminded of an injury that had once been there, even though it had healed long ago. “She’s disruptive.” The man in the suit said with a contemplative scowl. “She may need eliminating.” The Forwarder straightened in his chair, the comment having sent a jolt of adrenaline up his spine. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “Make the arrangements.” the man in the suit added. “I can handle her.” The Forwarder replied with as much firmness as he dared muster. The man in the suit turned fully to face The Forwarder, his hands clasped behind his back, a patronising smile upon his sour face, his voice full of arrogance, his eyes full of threat... “Make the arrangements.”

Thank you for reading everyone. I hope you enjoyed it. All comments and questions welcome.

Edited December 14, 2016 by LucByard
minor text edit.

[Umbra-Manis]

Great container and story Luc!

[robuko]

Great story again, your photography is so good at generating a claustrophobic atmosphere for these small tense scenes.

[Andromedas Gates]

The judges awarded you 4 points.