Noah Grisham

Location: System 1861, United Commonwealth of Colonies

Noah kept his head on a swivel as he walked down the landing ramp of Dawn and into the bay. The tang of artificial air was sharp, but even more recognizable was the small group of men heading in their direction. Able stood next to the small pirate captain in his armor with a blaster held casually in his hand. After a little discussion, it was determined that he would leave the Collie heavy weapon in the ship. Toting around that giant cannon was going to raise a few eyebrows and dry up some information sources when word got around. Noah was here for answers, and he was determined to get them at any cost.

“Welcome friends!” The man at the front of the approaching party smiled widely at Noah and Able. “Welcome to Last Resort.”

Noah thought, even if it was accurate. Being in the ass end of the galaxy and living in a hollowed-out asteroid was definitely a last resort for however many people were here. If this was his station it would be called Means to an End.

“Thank you.” Noah kept his thoughts to himself as he reached up to clasp the man’s hand. Even in this part of the galaxy a hand shake was still the best way to show you had no ill will toward another.

“My name is Faruk, and my mercenary band is responsible for the well-being of this station.”

As was customary, Noah pulled out a hundred-credit chip and handed it to the mercenary captain.

“I hope my ship will be taken care of.” He looked at the men behind Faruk and then over at his newly-repaired ship.

Faruk looked over the credit chip. “Blockie currency is devalued against the Commonwealth dollar. One-fifty will get you what you’re looking for.”

Noah could feel Able tense up behind him, but he smiled and dug into his pocket for more cash. Instead of pulling out another hundred-chip and having them transfer funds around he pulled out two twenties and a ten. It made it look like he had less cash than he really did.

“Thank you, friend.” Faruk took the one-fifty and nodded his head. One of the men accompanying him walked over to the Dawn and took up a sentry position next to it. Noah knew the guy would pop a squat the minute they were out of sight, but having him there was all the security Dawn needed. If Faruk was really in charge, his man simply being there was enough to deter anyone from messing with his ship.

“What brings you to Last Resort, my friends?” Faruk was all smiles as he and Noah led the way while their two guards walked behind them.

“Weapons.” Noah smiled. “We’ve got a pipeline open with the Blockies and are looking for somewhere to store and sell. Last Resort was highly recommended, so we came to check out your operation.”

“We would be more than happy to accommodate new investments in our little paradise.” Faruk’s smile grew even broader. His pearly-white teeth contrasted sharply with his bushy, black beard.

“Your mercenary company provides security for the station?” Now Noah started fishing for information.

“I have forty well-armed and highly-trained men who keep the peace,” Faruk assured.

Noah read between the lines. Faruk wasn’t stupid enough to give away actual intel on his little band of misfits, so he’d give a number high enough to make Noah feel comfortable while concealing his true strength.

“Our cut is twenty percent off the top and you’ll have to pay to lease the space, but everything else is profit for you, and I guarantee you that you will find plenty of business here.”

They’d been walking through a series of dimly lit corridors carved through the asteroid’s metal-infused rock, reinforced with civilian-grade duro-steel beams, and sealed with a thin layer of polyplast before arriving at a large, grimy-looking blast door. When Faruk said “here”, the door opened on well-maintained hydraulics into a brightly lit, colorful exposé. It looked like pictures of a bazaar on Earth from hundreds of years ago. Little shops had been carved into the rock while poorly constructed polyplast carts rolled through the pathways. It was a hodgepodge of people, goods, and smells as what Noah estimated to be a thousand people tried to buy and sell the black market products.

If Noah was actually going to sell something in the future, this was the place he’d be coming to if he didn’t burn bridges with Faruk today. Today was all about information.

“Do you like what you see, my friends?” Faruk’s smiled seemed permanently plastered on his face.

“Very much,” Noah’s return smile was genuine. “If you don’t mind, I would like to scope out my competition.”

“Not at all. I will leave my associate Barry here to be your guide. I hope you find our accommodations will meet your business needs. When you are finished, tell Barry and he will call me so we can make a deal.” With his final piece said, Faruk stepped backward, blended into the crowd, and vanished.

That left them alone with Barry. Barry was a big boy. He had a heavy-world build, was nearly as big as Able, and was strapped down with an assortment of weapons. He had everything from an Imperial blaster to an Old West six-shooter, but from the slight glow coming from the antiquated pistol Noah guessed those old-school rounds were plasma tipped. You didn’t find many of the exploding bullets outside the starfaring nation’s militaries, which said Barry wasn’t someone to be underestimated. He had a ballistic-weave vest on under his coat, and he scanned the area in a way that screamed former military. Noah would need to be careful around the big man, but at the moment he had his uses.

In total, Last Resort had five gun dealers. It would be a tough market to break into if Noah really was going to sell guns on the asteroid. Each of the dealers was filling a niche and seemed to have an understanding between each other. Two dealers sold handguns. One favored traditional rounds while one tended toward energy. The traditional dealer had everything from 22nd century chemically-powered tech all the way to modern electro-magnetically propelled rounds. They were nothing compared to the velocity of the M3 or Buss Able had tucked away back in Dawn, but they’d fuck up your day if you were caught in some turf war over pointless shit. The same was true of the energy pistols. They didn’t fire more than four rounds before you needed to switch battery backs – and those were sold separately – but they’d still burn through an unarmored man. Able’s armor would stand up to both those types of ammunition pretty easily.

One dealer traded more in ammo than weapons. He still had a handful of guns for purchase, but he had an ammo supply that none of the other dealers could match – including battery packs. He was the guy that had the plasma rounds for sale. He wouldn’t show the goods, but Barry vouched for him. Still, Noah would be surprised if he had more than a few dozen rounds stockpiled.

The last two dealers dealt with assault rifles and the more serious armaments. The first dealer they went to – like the pistol dealers – traded more in energy weapons. He had a single-shot plasma cannon from Able’s homeworld that the mercenary practically drooled over. Even though Barry was as much their handler and their tour guide, Able and him got along well. Mutual appreciation for things that went boom went a long way toward forming bonds.

While the energy cannon dealer had an impressive collection, he wasn’t the guy Noah was looking for. It was the last dealer they checked out that had the answers.

The shop was successful enough that it had a polyplast wall and door separating it from the rest of the bizarre bazaar. There was an old-fashioned bell attached to the door so when Noah opened it a soft jingle echoed through the small space. Another polyplast wall stood behind the counter. An old man exited through that door and gave his customers a smile. Noah tried not to grimace. It looked like someone had drawn a knife across the man’s face at some point in the past. Ugly scars ran outward from the corners of the man’s mouth all the way to his ears. It made his smile downright unsettling.

“How may I help you?” In addition to that the man was missing more than one finger. It was typical. Thieves tended to have fingers cut off as punishment in a number of systems throughout the galaxy no matter what nation they belonged to.

“I’m looking for rifles.” Noah didn’t whisper, but he kept his voice down. Able was distracting Barry for the moment. Each man was trying to stump the other on their firearm knowledge. It was a serious competition.

“Look around,” the man gestured to the display cases and walls, “I have plenty.”

“Not just any rifle.” Noah leaned forward onto the counter. “I’m looking for M3’s. I’ve got a job that requires a lot of fire power, and word on the street is that you can deliver.”

The man tried to keep his face neutral but pride got the best of him. Noah knew he had the right guy.

“If you’d come through here a couple of months ago then I would have had hundreds of the things to sell you, but I’m all out right not.”

“Can you point me to the guy that sold the rifles to you in the first place?” Noah saw the indecision creeping along the other man’s face before he even finished speaking. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tried to draw the arms dealer back in. “Five hundred…no seven-fifty for the name?

The offer brought a thoughtful look to the dealer’s face. “For a grand up front, I’ll give you the name, no refunds, and if you come back looking for trouble I’ll put a hole in you and your big-ass friend over there.” He gestured at Able.

Noah winced internally at the cost of the information, but he ended up pulling out ten hundred-credit chips and handing them over. The guy he was after was worth tens of millions, and even a little bit of revenge was priceless.

The dealer verified the currency was legit before tossing it into a safe under the counter. “The guy said his name was Alvarez, but he was a creepy dude. He came flying in here one day with crates of military-grade hardware to unload. He found me and I took it off his hands for next to nothing. Two days later a mining crew showed up for the crates and paid me double the street value for them. I nearly closed my doors that night and booked a flight to the Mid-Worlds for retirement with the payday I made.”

Noah kept his temper in check.

“I unloaded the crates from a converted mail courier with an EU registration. You wouldn’t be able to tell from a distance, but I could see where hull panels had been replaced with the discardable versions that pirates like to slap over improvised energy cannons or missile launchers.”

Noah knew those well, and he was sure the guard stationed down at Dawn was documenting how many his converted mining ship had on its hull.

“Did Alvarez say where he was from, where he was going, anything that will help me find the guy?” Noah was laying it on a little thick, but he didn’t care. Alvarez was the link, and he needed to find the guy. The fact that the dealer thought he was a spook didn’t bother the pirate.

“No idea,” the dealer shrugged, “but he might still be here. I saw him two days ago doing business with a few other traders. You could check with Faruk to see if his ship is docked.”

Noah didn’t remember seeing a mail courier in the bay when they parked Dawn, but it was a big space with multiple levels so he might get lucky.

“Thanks.” Noah spun away and moved toward the door. “Able, Barry, I’m finished here and need to talk with Faruk.”

Barry just nodded as they left the store. He pulled out his PAD and texted the asteroid’s boss.

***

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes since Barry left with the two customers before the bell chimed again. The arms dealer looked up from where he’d been crouching behind the counter to see a familiar face.

The man didn’t even look up, he was on his PAD typing away.

“Alvarez! Some guys were just in here asking about you. I think they want to make a deal for…”

The dealer didn’t have time to react as Alvarez swiftly drew a pistol and put a supersonic dart into his forehead. It was fired through a suppressor, so it just sounded like a soft cough followed by the heavier thump of brain matter and skull hitting the polyplast wall behind the counter. The dealer fell against that same wall with only half a head before sliding to the ground and out of sight.

Another few clicks of the PAD and Alvarez was hacked into the store’s security system, erased the surveillance footage, changed the sign on the door to closed, and activated the cleaning nanites to tidy up the place.

He kept one eye on the door as he put the finishing touches on his report. It contained nothing specific, but enough for the intended reader to know that the mission had been accomplished.

Alvarez’s name wasn’t Alvarez. He didn’t even naturally look like the guy the dealer knew as Alvarez, but after the fuck up in Windsor he’d been forced to find a new face and a new backer. He’d gotten both, but instead of infiltrating an opposing state he was busy running guns on some off-the-books project.

He expected it though. He’d been kicked to the bottom of the heap, and now he had to work his way back up. With the arms dealer’s final statement, that job became just a little bit harder. The dealer was the last loose end, but since he’d talked there were now more people that needed to be eliminated.

With a final flourish of his hands he finished drafting the classified report and sent it to his ship’s neural network. Upon detecting another friendly STRATNET beacon, the ship would transfer the message and the report would leapfrog its way back to New Lancashire where it could only be opened by in-person scanning of the GIC of Rear Admiral Hank Nelson.

Alvarez didn’t expect there to be an issue even with the latest complication. In a few hours marines would be storming Last Resort, and knowing Faruk, the mercenary company running the asteroid wouldn’t go down without a fight. If the spy got lucky, his new targets would get blown away with the rest of them.