Where It All Began PT.1 (A Nircean Tale)

Where It All Began

A Nircean Tale



Nirce//2292



         I never felt as though my role in the world would amount to anything more than a ships pilot or a mercenary. I didn't relish the idea of steering a large piece of steel into the blacks of space and the idea of wielding a gun in the name of someone else's wallet never sat too well with me either. I romanticized the notion of freedom in the 'verse. The idea that a man, if willing, could find his own way with little opposition if he'd only just stuck with it. The notion that I could, indeed, become and do whatever I pleased.

         However, the human condition is tied to others and staring into the depths of space can drive a man mad without a companion of sorts.

         So I gave up. I became a mercenary and a thief, surviving on funds made by hurting and stealing for others. My soul, -or whatever was the core of my being- fell silent in time, lost without the notion of freedom.

         Then I met a woman who tried to kill me, though ironically, she'd actually helped bring me back to life. Without her violent interference I may have just died as another scumbag criminal in an ever deepening grave filled with dead dreams.



         "Listen Benny, boy. You haven't had work in a good while and without any support, you're dead in the water." Liam grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the corner of his desk. The guy had an odd sense of superiority for a gang leader. He thought he was high society, somehow. He kept a bottle of whiskey and a few ornate glasses sitting on his supposed Oak wood desk and would treat every meeting as if it were a meeting of great minds with the intention of doing great things. When the smoke and mirrors of his business persona settled, he was nothing more than a thug in a suit and pile of walking oppression, preying on the desperate souls wandering the Nircean landscape.

         "I'm not that desperate." I said, accepting the glass of whiskey he'd poured for me. I didn't care for the man or his ways, but I did appreciate free whiskey.

         "Oh, but I think you are." He smirked, sipping from his own glass. "You have no family, no friends, no home to speak of, and the last time I saw you in passing, you were hauling crates for the Appilane government." His tone was deliberately insulting. He certainly honed in on the high society talent of looking down on others.

         "It's honest work and I don't have any quarrels with the Appilane." I looked at the deep pea green carpet beneath my boots. I wasn't going to admit my desperation, not because of the pride I felt, but more closely to the fact that I didn't have any urge to give him the satisfaction of being right. Everything about the man was wrong, but he knew how to peel a man back to reveal his fears and insecurities. That skill happened to aid in his station in life.

         "Honest? Honestly, that's probably the dumbest thing I've heard today! Do you know who you are? What you're worth? Honesty's afforded to those with hearts and poetic talent. Neither of which apply to YOU, of all people Benny." Again, he sipped from his glass. "I've got a job, and whether you like it or not, you need it." He laughed, leaning up against the corner of his desk in front of me. "We all play our roles and I know what I am. You don't have to think much of me to understand that what I'm saying is true. You're a capable man, I've seen some of the jobs you've pulled in the past and I want you for this one. Just take the ruddin' job." He glared at me, as if trying to read me, to figure my answer before I spoke.

         And to my chagrin, I said, "Fine. Give me the details, I'll make it happen."

         He clasped his hands together, grinning ear to ear. "See? Pride means nothing to a man that has nothing to be proud of." Liam grabbed a folder sitting on his desk. "Here is everything you need to know and where to get the gear needed for it. This all goes down with two stipulations: one, you take what's on the list and nothing else. Two, the man whom owns the place is to be unharmed. You violate either of those rules and your pay gets cut in half, yeah?" He said tossing the folder in my lap. "Now get the rud out of my office and call me when you're done."

         I stood up, fighting every ounce of primordial rage I felt for the man. I could rip you in two, I thought.



         Two days later, I'd finished getting the necessary equipment for the job. Essentially, I was tasked with robbing some rich guy in the heart of the capital city, Navro. Nirce was a big ass planet, but all the rich folk and their properties were located in the central city of Navro. I seldom ventured into the city, I couldn't stand the air of blissful ignorance, perhaps out of envy.

         Anyhow, the guy lived on the eighteenth floor of some condominium complex and using the front door was an obvious no-no. So, I acquired a great deal of things to help scale the building and attack the robbery with a stealth approach such as agrappling hook, a harness to keep me tethered to it, gripping boots and a pistol in case things got hairy.  I fancied myself to be a "professional".

         After convincing a security guard to look the other way with a fistful of stolen credits, I made for my ascent.

         I fired a grappling hook toward the roof top and surprisingly, it held on the first try. So, gripping the rope, I began methodically walking up the side of the building. It was in the dead of night, so I didn't feel I'd be spotted so long as the security guard kept his word.

         After about fifteen minutes I made it to the floor my job was on. However, the window adjacent to the one I was planning on breaching had already been shattered inward.

         He sent someone else? I thought as I quietly popped the window from its frame, not wanting to alert the other intruder or the owner of the condo. I stepped into what looked like the main living space. The fireplace in the center of the room was plastered with family photos and trophies of sorts and the rest of the room was littered with framed certificates and other accolades that had clearly been tied to whatever the owner did for a living. The guy was well off, that was evident.

         I couldn't begin stuffing my bag with the listed items I was to take, as I had to investigate the other intruder before blowing the whole gig. I wasn't sure if Liam was testing me or what, but the whole thing stunk of suspicion and, really, I did need the credits. I couldn't blow it.

         Before I could engage my brilliant sleuthing skills, I heard muttering and sobbing from the rear room of the place. It sounded as though the other intruder had run into the family.

         I drew my pistol and left my excess gear on the coffee table, not wanting to be slowed down. The condo was relatively intact, aside from the shattered widow the mystery guest had left. I made my way down a narrow hallway that led back toward the bedrooms, passing photos of a happy family, my guilt surmounting. What are you doing Ben? This is low. I thought.

         I edged my way to the master bedroom as slowly and quietly as I could. A lamp had been left on, as I could see a ray of light from under the door and occasional shadows pass through it. I was then just outside of the door, listening intently. Whatever was going on, it wasn't just a stick up, there was way more to it and if Laim didn't want me to hurt the owner, why would he have employed someone else to do so?

         I couldn't make out many words in particular other than, "Please, don't do this to us." Then I heard a crack, the sound of someone being struck by an object. Then a woman's voice chimed in, calling the apparent assailant a bitch. Then I heard another crack, followed by more sobbing.

         Considering the habitants of the condo and the other intruder were in the same room, I could have easily slipped away and stolen what I needed to, getting out before anyone knew a thing had happened. However, the family was clearly in danger of being harmed and a nagging voice in my head said that I couldn't let that happen.

         I sighed to myself and pushed the door open, brandishing my weapon. Before I could say anything like, "Stop right there," or some other cool clique "I gotcha" quote, I found a firm hand jut out and punch my throat. I flailed my pistol in the direction in which I received the blow, only to find the same hand grab my wrist and immediately disarm me.

         The assailant grabbed my arm, twisting it, and drove their knee into my rib cage. I struggled and threw my elbow back ward, striking their face. I heard a grunt then they took me to the ground.

         I lay flat on my back and instead of looking at the person beating on me, I glanced over to the family. A clean cut man, a trophy wife and their beautiful little daughter. They looked on in horror, but the man mouthed, "thank you" while he and his girls got up to run.

         I made sure to wrap my legs around the attacker's, hoping to buy the family time, if nothing else. Then finally, the assailant spoke.

         "What the rud is the matter with you?" She shouted angrily. I was taken aback to hear a woman's voice, however fierce it may have sounded, it was, indeed, a woman.

         She ripped off the mask that had concealed her gender and let out her hair. She continued to yell at me and hit me. I didn't really fight back since the family had gotten away from whatever she intended to do with them. More importantly, though, I didn't fight back because I was mesmerized by the woman's beauty.

         She began to strangle me and I began to gasp and wheeze for breath, but I just stared into her eyes and I'm fairly certain I smiled at her, as her angry expression also reflected that of confusion. She tightened her grip and I observed her.

         Her long, dark chestnut hair flowed and dangled above my face, her lips were full and sultry, cheeks flushed with rage and her eyes burning with a sincere level of frustration. Before passing out, I thought, I'm a sick man, and I think I like her.









         The dumb son of a bitch let me strangle him! He just laid there with a stupid grin on his face and let me strangle him! At first I thought he was some weird fetishist, but then I realized the Dealer family had gotten away. The bastard saved them and I bet he felt great about it.

         I searched his things and found a list of items, I assumed he was there to rob the place. Idiot could have done it too if he didn't feel like throwing on a show of thrilling heroics. Still, I didn't want to kill him, I mean, I could have. He was lying completely unconscious on the floor and had no one coming to his rescue. Still, what kind of a woman would I be if I killed the guy in his sleep?

         Not to mention, he wasn't too hard on the eyes. He was clearly and idiot, but still, pretty packages don't normally have much inside. The Appilane Police Department, or APD, would have been showing up shortly, and I couldn't leave the moron to the wolves.

         I ended up fleeing the scene, with the thief in tow. About an hour after getting out of dodge, we made it to my hideout just outside of the city. It wasn't some high tech retreat, but it kept me out of sight. God knew I could use it, as my employer wouldn't be too thrilled to know that some ruddin' thief chased me off my mark.

         The guy wouldn't wake up for a while, so I took the time to dig through hits crap and look up his files.

My hideout wasn't spectacular, but it had the essentials, like a sprawling computer system, hidden shuttle deployment garage, a small armory and a a lot of stolen goods. The basics.

Fortunately, finding his files was relatively easy and after pulling them up, I knew just about everything about him in minutes.

         His name, Benjamin Harper. Age, 24. Education, some college. Brown hair, brown eyes, 6'0, and a penchant for doing stupid shit. His criminal record was long and tedious, the most extraordinary crime of his life took place three years prior and even that he only made out with a quarter million in credits. Ben was small time and posed no threat to me. Still, maybe I could use him. I thought.

         I sat down on the couch I'd laid him on. The buffoon wrecked my job and I treated him to an exclusive visit to my hideout, a bandage for the gash I left in his head, but most stupid of all, I let him live. I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to leave him unharmed, but I did. Maybe it was the last shred of decency I had in my bones. Maybe it was just because I hadn't had anyone bed me in a while. Whatever the reason was, I felt just as stupid as he presented himself to be.

         He looked innocent enough, but he looked tired too. I was surprised to see that he was only 24. His closely trimmed beard and the wrinkles in his face suggested 35 easily. The files only showed me what he'd been caught doing, not necessarily the things he'd gotten away with. He had crow's feet deeper than space itself, I had no choice but to wonder what kind of crap he'd experienced. I could have been reading too far into the guys face, but something told me he'd gone through some terrible things. Maybe even things he brought on himself.

He DID try to hopelessly save people with no regard to his own life. There must be some tragic motivator behind his "heroism". I thought.

I didn't feel comfortable leaving him loose, I wasn't sure how he'd react to my perceived kidnapping of him. I tied his hands together and trained my pistol on him, waiting for him to wake up.

"I wonder what your eyes look like", I muttered to myself, realizing that the whole time I strangled him, I stared only at the center of his forehead. The last thing I wanted to burn into my mind was the final glaring of a dying man. Fortunately, he wasn't dead and I'd get to appreciate his eyes in a more, lively kind of way.