Chapter 10: Hey, Soul SIster

Chapter 10: Hey, Soul Sister

            The trip to Da Wilson Starport didn't take long; I had planned my house on Priroda Moon to be as close to a starport as possible (while still being a comfortable place to live in during the rare moments that I'm not staying at a temporary home on some moon in the Nebo System) ever since the day I decided to live on this populated place, and the starport was only a few blocks away from my house (hey, “a few blocks” is the closest you can get to “close” when it comes to selecting a house in a place like Priroda Moon. In fact, Aurelia is lucky enough to have her home in the location it is right now; most Prirodans who want a home near a starport rarely get what they wish for. Worst comes to worst, these hopeful humans end up living in some really crappy places, such as a rented, cramped and not to mention heavily damaged apartment room. Sound like anyone you know?).

            Normally, I would take a taxi or a tram to the starport just like everyone else. Ordering taxis have never been easier ever since the installation of GoConsoles throughout the city. For those of you who don't know, GoConsoles are consoles (gee, tell me something I DIDN'T know...) installed on sidewalks throughout the moon, allowing the inhabitants of Priroda Moon to order taxis just by simply tapping an icon on the console's screen (yes, it's touchscreen. What era is this, the 1900s?) to summon a taxi to the console's location, and then paying with a scan of their credit card. Once the order has been completed, all that the customer has left to do is to wait for his/her ride.

            Speaking of credit cards, we no longer require to swipe credit cards. Swiping cards have become a thing of the past, and damages the cards over time. Now, card-related transactions are instead handled by scanners, which that emit a green light when idle, a red light when it doesn't recognize a card, and a blue light when it DOES recognize a card (think supermarket barcode scanners. You know those thingimajigs that generate a light and make a loud “beep” sound whenever a barcode is recognized by the light? Just between the two of us, I completely ripped off the “futuristic scanner” idea off of those things). If the scanner ISN'T emitting a light AND is spewing copious amounts of smoke, you should probably get that scanner fixed, and you should probably do it NOW.

            In this advanced age, we use credits as our form of currency (and yes, as a sci-fi dude, I'm aware of how stereotypical this currency is in futuristic settings. Don't worry; I promise that I'll be a bit more creative on MY version of “credits”), and the concept of physical currency, although still existent, is rarely used. However, few places in the Nebo System still utilize cash and the bartering system (hey, as ancient as the bartering system is, some places in the Nebo System are still unrefined to the point that they need to implement some of their ancestors' ways of life, and one of these “ways of life” include trading) as their medium exchange, although the places that still use this outdated currency are likely to be less developed than other locations in the Nebo System.   Speaking of less developed, the implementation of electronic money in society has also helped reduce poverty in the Nebo System, to an extent. Don't get me wrong, poverty is STILL existent in the known universe despite the fantastic developments in technology (among many other things), although beggars aren't as huge a problem as it used to be back in the days where Earth wasn't in a complete state of ruin (and believe me, that was quite a long time ago). That being said, however, the very few vagrants that DO exist in developed regions of the Nebo System beg for credit chips, pieces of salvageable scrap, or other sellable items to get money. There was once a news report about a beggar who got too carried away by the success of his begging that he got a credit card scanner so that sympathetical bypassers could easily donate money to his (selfish) cause. Needless to say, the manipulative mooch got his just desserts when the cops realized that the beggar was really just a rich parasite living off of the kindness of other people.

            Goodness, I seem to have forgotten what I was about to say. Oh right, I believe I was about to tell you about how I got to the starport. Seeing that I didn't actually have a steady flow of income at the moment, I decided that it would probably be best to walk to the airport. As I had mentioned earlier, my house was only a few blocks away from the starport, so walking over to the place wasn't such an outlandish proposition.

            I reached the entrance of Da Wilson Starport within several minutes. The Da Wilson Starport was the second largest starport in the known universe, right after the Arbun Starport on Earth, which was the very first spaceport ever created (you know, the place where the Russians launched the first interplanetary spaceship? That place has been developed to serve a larger clientele ever since. Alas, since the Arbun Starport is in Russia, the facility has automatically become prejudiced as fuck, just like the rest of Russia). The Da Wilson Starport was created in memory of one of the Nebo System's greatest minds, Leonardo Da Wilson. When the poor man went insane painting a piece of the legendary Tempus Artifact, a starport was being built on Priroda Moon, and was named in the honor of the mad genius's honor (I don't need to tell you the story about Da Wilson, you heard that shit already a few chapters ago). The Da Wilson Starport went on to be the gargantuan structure it is today, and countless amounts of people leave and enter the place day after day.

            For me, the Da Wilson Starport was one of my most frequently visited locations, mainly due to the nature of my job (yes, both the one right now and the one I had before getting fired), which required a ton of traveling to and from many different places throughout the Nebo System. However, I didn't book a flight on a space shuttle just like your average spaceport customer would; I AM the spaceship pilot. This is my job, dear reader (God knows why I kept her second occupation such a secret from you guys, but hey, what's done is done): I smuggle things with the help of my trusty dropship, if “dropship” is even an appropriate word to describe my spacecraft. But before I describe my spaceship to you guys, I've gotta actually get to the ship FIRST. I'll explain more about the ship as I walk through the starport to my dropship's personal hangar (sorry, she'll be too busy talking about her ship to describe the characteristics of the starport).

            Just a bit of background info: I use my dropship to go pretty much ANYWHERE in the Nebo System; those are one of the many perks of having your very own personal spacecraft. That being said, the places where I park my ship may vary depending on the location I'm in. For instance, if I was to land in a civilized region of the Nebo System (which would normally include a starport), I'll park the dropship in a hangar that I had reserved before I made the actual trip. To ward off any suspicion, I always keep a (falsified) pilot's license that I use to fool anyone skeptical enough to question my authenticity as a pilot, which happens WAY more often than you think (don't get me wrong, I AM actually taking courses in flight school in order to acquire an actual pilot's license, but to be fair, I needed the money to help maintain my lifestyle). If I was to land in, say, a jungle full of rifle-toting savages, I would land in a safe, desolate, psychopath-free patch of ground, drop my cargo off and hightail my dropship the hell outta Dodge. The point is, I adapt to whatever situation my work drops me into.

            After making my way through the bustling interior of the spaceport, I eventually reached my dropship's personal hangar and walked towards my ship. My spacecraft was basically a Diomedes-class dropship with a bunch of add-ons installed into the ship. Just between the both of us, I got this baby whilst I was on a...business trip. I was with a bunch of co-workers “fixing” a geothermal power plant on Palit Moon owned by Zeus Industries (yes, AGAIN. Zeus has a knack for owning pretty much everything in the known universe that has a connection to energy). The plant's overseers didn't take kindly to posses of people like us miling around their power plant, and they eventually ended up chasing us off the moon after an overseer caught us tampering with the plant's heating system (by now, you've probably already realized that Aurelia's previous line of work wasn't exactly an honest one. Such are most of the characters in this story). Long story short, I ended up leading my team to a dropship in order to flee from the moon and its angered occupants, with yours truly in the pilot's seat. Needless to say, my team and I successfully escaped. After bringing my team (and the ship) safely back to base, my boss allowed me to keep the dropship for myself as a makeshift reward for saving my crew. In addition to the ship, I was also given a leadership badge for the valiant act.

            And that was the story of how I got my very first space-worthy vehicle. Ever since I got it, I've been putting the spaceplane to good use, and have been using the vehicle to ferry many types of cargo throughout the Nebo System. Food supplies, building materials, refugees...I smuggle a lot of stuff, as long as my cargo isn't considered illegal (with the exception of the “refugee trafficking” bit. As illegal as that stuff is, I believe that THIS type of smuggling is justified, seeing that I'm actually helping less fortunate people find better homes). It took me a while to realized that I didn't have a name for the ship yet, and I decided to call the ship “Varkaris”. It's been a few years now since I got the Varkaris, and now the ship has been kitted out with so many upgrades that you would never believe me if I told you that it was a dropship. To be fair, the Varkaris is now more like an “all-rounder” type of spaceplane, possessing the traits of many different types of spacecraft in a single vessel: the Varkaris has the speed and weapons of a starfighter, the cargo hold and durability of a dropship, and the silent, undetectable nature of a stealth plane, making it the perfect spaceship, if I may say so myself (yes, yes. I appreciate all this background info you're sharing with the reader, but we've got a story to tell, so PLEASE get back to it).

            I entered the Varkaris's hangar and looked around for my customer, who had promised to meet me inside the hangar. Actually, scratch that; his FRIEND told me that my customer would meet me in the hangar, at this exact time. However, as I scanned the deserted confines of my spaceship's (temporary) home, my client was nowhere to be found. I found this rather odd, for two reasons: first of all, my client is in the mercenary business (or so he says), a job that would logically require at least a bit of punctuality on their part. The second thing I found fishy was that normal customers who required my services would usually insist on meeting me inside the actual STARPORT, not the inside of my plane's PERSONAL SPACEDOCK. In all my years of using the Varkaris to smuggle people to and from places (that sounded a lot more illegal than I originally intended it to), I have never met a patron who's ever insisted on meeting me outside of the starport building, let alone inside the place where I keep my ship.

            Shortly after I had made this realization, I started wondering if this “customer” was really just some creepy serial rapist who wanted to get in my pants, then promptly slit my throat after he had gotten his way with me. I've come up with this prediction due to the fact that this kind of stuff had actually already happened in my past, without the inclusion of the whole “slit my throat after he had gotten his way with me” bit. However, during those moments I was quick enough to dispatch the debaucher before he got the chance to do anything funny to me. Despite the fact that I've never had to fight inside a place like my ship's spacedock, it didn't seem like the idea was so outlandish, especially for some horny lawbreaker. Considering the likely possibility of my client being a sex-crazed criminal of some sort, I readied myself for an ambush, scanning the room for hostiles.

            “Aurelia, I presume?” I heard a deep, manly voice say from behind me. Hearing the voice, I turned around on the spot to see a bald man of medium height staring at me with his arms crossed. The man's sudden appearance startled me, and I jumped slightly on the spot. After taking a few deep breaths to recover from the shock, I started speaking with the mysterious man (who I'm gonna assume is indeed my client).

“Omigod, you scared me there. For a second there I really thought that you were some kind of criminal trying to assault me or something. Just to be clear, you ARE Elmer Tascot Abraham, right?” I asked after recovering from the man's sudden appearance.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Depends on who you're asking,” the man replied cryptically.

            “Say, do you happen to have a spare Ignium cell?” the man continued. So he WAS my client. The “energy cell” question was a technique we smugglers use to identify our customers. I responded with the standard passcode answer.

“No, I used my last one on a flashlight,” I responded.

“Then yes, I AM indeed Elmer Tascot Abraham. I expect my informant had already told you all you need to know about me,” Elmer said. “As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember that my informant also told me that you were honor-actually, scratch that; it'll make me sound like an asshole,”

“What could I possibly say that would make you sound like an a-hole?” I asked. Seems like the elusive Elmer Tascot Abraham was not only a stealthy dude, but also a potty mouth. Go figure.

            “Ah, fuck it. My informant told me something about you being honored about meeting me or some shit. What the fuck was THAT all about?” Elmer explained.

“Oh, that. I heard that your reputation precedes you, that's all,” I replied.

“Is that sarcasm?”

“No, that's a genuine compliment. You've done a lot of pretty memorable things for the Nebo System, for better or worse. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. It's just that I'm not used to getting praise. You'd think that my infamy would make me very recognizable in the Nebo System's underworld, but most people don't usually confront me and say, 'hey, aren't you that guy who cracked open the treasure vault on a Caelestis capital ship?' or 'oh my god, are you the dude who busted open the walls of the (supposedly) impenetrable penitentiary on Kletka Moon?',” Elmer explained. “God-DAMN, I sound like such an attention whore now,”

“Well, to be fair, fame doesn't really work that way,” I said. “I mean, famous people don't expect to be followed by a massive wave of fans everywhere they go, unless their fans actually KNOW that they're set to be at a certain location at a certain time. For instance, celebrities don't have lunch in a restaurant whilst being surrounded by a crowd of crazy admirers. However, during times in which the celebrity DOES expect his/her fanbase to appear, they're there for their idols.

            Combine this with the fact that your face is known only to members of the criminal underworld, whereas the outside world is oblivious to the fact that a highly trained mercenary is walking around in public. And besides, even if someone DOES manage to take a good, close look at your face, they probably won't even REALIZE that you're secretly a legendary hitman; only people who live on the shadier side of the law will be able to connect the dots,” I told Elmer. The more I spoke about him being recognizable by suspicious people in public, the more scrunched up his face became.

“Weeeeeeell...now that I think about it, there are actually some people who DO recognize me in public, but that shit happens relatively rarely. And in the unlikely case that someone DOES indeed recognize me, that 'someone' would normally end up being a dude who's had beef with me in the past,” Elmer said. Strange; just before this guy just said that people didn't usually confront him about his actions, but I guess he remembers now. Oh well, I can let that slide. Maybe he just remembered his past experiences with strangers AFTER I told him about my entire “fame” analogy.

            “I assume that someone would end up getting hurt in that scenario?” I asked.

“Yeah, the encounter would most likely end in a trip to the hospital for my assailant, and several cuts and bruises for me. I guess it depends on the guy's toughness and the laws of the location I'm currently in,”

“How could the law possibly help determine the fate of your run-in with some hostile person? Is it something about being arrested depending on how strict the rules are in the place you're currently in?” I inquired.

“Something like that. I mean, think about it: different places react to fights differently; if I'm brawling on the streets of a place like Epidromeis or some other lawless place, people wouldn't give two fucks about the violence. In fact, bystanders might even fucking SPECTATE the fight as it goes down, and the nearby guards would also probably do the same (being the miscreant-filled metropolis that it is, the guards over on Epidromeis are completely fine with street fighting, but oddly enough, they're willing to intervene when a crime goes down near them, unlike the lazy coppers over at Priroda Moon). However, if a stranger picked a fight with me on a place as civilized as Priroda Moon, the authorities would probably haul both of our asses to the nearest police station for 'breaching the peace' or some shit.” Elmer said.

            After Elmer had finished talking about his infamy, there was a brief pause in which none of us said anything to each other. The only sounds we heard were the faint noises of the typical everyday happenings of a starport coming from the opened windows of the Varkaris's hangar. After a few seconds of silence, Elmer spoke.

“Do you wanna get going now?” he asked.

“Hey, you're the boss,” I replied curtly.

“Right, right. Shit, I forgot about that for a while there. Sure, I guess we can go,” the mercenary replied, flustered. We both headed towards the same door on the dropship, and stopped once we were a few centimetres away from the door. Elmer opened the door, and held the door open for me in a mock-curtsy fashion, bowing down to me as if I was a queen of some sort. “After you, milady,” he said in a fake English accent, smiling devilishly as he uttered the sentence. I rolled my eyes and entered the cockpit. Elmer entered after I did, closing and locking the door behind him.

            “Given your shady occupation, I suppose you're already familiar with the place we're about to go to?” Elmer asked, sitting down on a chair beside the pilot's seat. “By the way, am I allowed to sit here?” he proceeded to inquire. It was a bit too late to ask whether or not it was OK to sit on the chair (seeing that you're normally supposed to ask if you're allowed to sit down BEFORE you actually sit down), but I wasn't bothered by his slight lack of etiquette, since I'm not such a stickler for manners anyway. Besides, most of my customers don't bother to even ASK; they just sit down immediately, and a good number of them do some pretty unspeakable things during their time on the Varkaris (let's just say that I have an interesting clientele). Point is, although his manners were a little off, Elmer had already given me an impression that he might actually be a pretty decent guy after all.

            “Yes, you may sit there. About your first question, I'm familiar with Plavok Moon; several...clients have requested me to, um, go there to fetch some pretty weird stuff over on that moon,” I answered Elmer as I took a seat in the pilot's chair and began making some pre-flight checks.

“OK, first of all, how the fuck did you find a way to 'fetch stuff' on Plavok Moon? Far as I know, the only people who capable of traveling to that place are a) a band of batshit insane cultists who worship the god of death and b) an equally batshit insane organization of American explorers hell-bent on securing a long-lost artifact fragment. Second of all, I thought your job solely consisted of SMUGGLING shit, not actually RETRIEVING shit for other people,” Elmer rambled. Wow. That was one heck of a questioning session. Thankfully, I was already used to people asking me lengthy questions (I have some very eccentric friends), and responded with an equally fulfilling answer.

“Those are quite a lot of questions. Nevertheless, I'll still try to answer all of them. First question: I'm a smuggler, so I ALWAYS find a way to get to different places throughout the Nebo System, regardless of how difficult or how far said place is to travel to,” I explained, starting up the Varkaris's engine as I spoke. At this, the dropship let out a loud whirring sound. Blue flames shot out of the Varkaris's propulsion jets as the ship began moving out of its hangar. Now that the Varkaris was oout of the hangar, all I needed to do now was navigate it to the atmospherical gate and out into space.

            “Care to share a few of these 'ways to get to different places throughout the Nebo System'? I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some pointers on how to travel more efficiently,” Elmer inquired enthusiastically, almost interrupting me. He seemed to notice himself nearly interfering, and apologized. “I'm sorry, did I interrupt you?” he said in a slightly worried tone.

            I have to admit, Elmer was probably the weirdest mercenary I've ever met; although he hasn't told me directly, I could tell that this guy wasn't exactly the most sociable dude in the universe; he had a slight issue with his speech pattern, and he sometimes struggled to find the correct words for a sentence. However, I wasn't a master of mingling myself, so I sympathized with his predicament. It felt kinda weird to realize that a figure as infamous as Elmer Tascot Abraham would be awkward in social situations, but it somehow let me see a more human part of the mercenary.

            “No, it's fine, you didn't interrupt anything. Forgive me if I can't tell you about how I go to and from places throughout the known universe. It's kind of a secret I keep to myself as a smuggler. The reason I keep my traveling skills a secret kinda reminds me of a fictional restaurant in this one really old TV show. In the show, the restaurant is known for making these really, REALLY good burgers, which makes the restaurant's patrons keep coming back for more. The most interesting part about the burgers however, is the fact that each burger contains a secret ingredient. This secret ingredient is said to be the main reason why the restaurant's burgers taste so good,” I explained (hey, I enjoy monologuing too, OK? Don't judge) as I carefully steered the Varkaris through droves of other spacecraft, still awaiting THEIR cues from the starport's staff to lift off. That's another upside of being the boss of your own spacecraft: your ship is completely under your control, meaning that you don't have to follow the orders assigned by your superiors to gain permission to use the ship. On the flip side, this freedom comes at the cost of not having a constant flow of income, but I've already got that situation remedied thanks to a butt-load of money coming from customers who pay me for smuggling their stuff throughout the Nebo System.

            “OK, slow down. So what you're trying to say is that the reason you don't wanna divulge your secrets to traveling around the Nebo System so well is the same reason the fictional restaurant franchise doesn't wanna reveal their burger's secret ingredient, which I'm gonna assume is due to the fact that these secrets are crucial to the restaurant's (or in this case, my job's) survival? Shit, I coulda phrased that better. But you still get my point, right?” Elmer concluded. “Yeah, I think I know the TV show you mean, although I can't seem to remember the name of the show either, although it's right on the tip of my tongue...” he continued.

“Yeah, that's pretty much what I was trying to say. Sorry dude, but a secret's a secret.” I said. Elmer's bit his lip, which I'm gonna assume is his way of expressing disappointment. Thankfully, his facial expression went back to normal after a second or two. By now, we had already arrived at the atmospherical gate of Da Wilson Starport. I stopped the Varkaris, and started the ship's lift-off sequence.

            “Oh shit, I think I forgot about something. Did you tell me your name yet?” Elmer suddenly asked as I was flipping the Varkaris's propulsion jets into a vertical position to ascend the ship.

“No, I don't think I have, forgive me. My name is Aurelia Debra, but my friends call me 'Rel' for short” I replied.

“'Rel'. 'Rel',” the mercenary whispered to himself. “Shit, that sounds too weird to me. Can I just stick with “Aurel”? It kinda rolls off my tongue a little better than just 'Rel',”

“Sure, I guess,” I answered briefly.

“You know something funny? I actually have a cousin whose name is ALSO Aurelia. But that's not the weirdest part yet. Guess the name of her boyfriend,” Elmer asked. OK, now this was getting a little awkward. I mean, this is not the kind of stuff you talk about with a stranger, even if he IS an infamous soldier of fortune. Despite this, I continued humoring Elmer by continuing with the conversation. On the bright side, he's not talking about sex; now that would be REALLY awkward...

            “Umm...I don't know. Who?” I said, genuinely befuddled by the unusual question.

“Elmer. Fuckin' ELMER, man. I mean, can you imagine how they both would react if I somehow convinced you to come over to their house with me? That would be like, the mother of all mind-fucks,” Elmer said enthusiastically, speaking in a tone suggesting that he was picturing the scenario happen inside his head the entire time he spoke. Elmer and I both went silent after he had finished speaking, due to the slightly creepy (and disturbing nature) of the mercenary's previous statement (I wasn't sure if Elmer was actually aware of what he just said, but I'm gonna assume that his silence was a sign of sudden realization). I used the silence as an opportunity to steer the ship through the atmospherical gate and out into space.

            “So Elmer, what's up with your, um...hair?” I asked, curious as to why the mercenary had chosen such a strange (nonexistent) hairdo. “Was your head always like this ever since you were a kid?”

“Well, it depends on your perspective of 'kid',” Elmer replied cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if by 'kid' you mean a high school student, then yes, I HAVE been going bald ever since I was a 'kid'. It started out as a publicity stunt, to be perfectly honest with you. Over time, baldness has been turned more into a statement of some sort; not many kids in high school had the balls to shave their heads, so I guess it's kind of my way of telling everyone else, 'I really, REALLY don't give a fuck what you think about me. Laugh all you want, but at least I'm free, unlike you assholes,” Elmer said. Holy crap, did he just say 'a-hole'? His mouth is WAY dirtier than I initially thought.

            “OK, let me get this straight: so you consider people with hair as 'a-holes'? I'm sorry if that came off a bit crass, but maybe I'm taking this the wrong way. Can you explain what you just said in more detail? I'm kinda confused,” I asked, baffled (and mildly aghast) by Elmer's brutally honest rant.

“Well, I guess 'hipster' would be a more appropriate word. And no, I do NOT think of people with hair as 'assholes', just to be perfectly clear with you,” Elmer answered. “Although I have to admit, sometimes it can be difficult to accept the public's opinion, but you get used to it eventually. Hell, some people might actually APPLAUD you for your ballsiness,”

“You know, you'll always be judged by people, whatever the situation. The public will always have something to say about you, regardless of whether you're right or wrong,”

“All the more reason to defy the public's laws of conformity,”

“I suppose I can't argue about that Why the heck did you even decide to talk about hair, by the way? I mean, out of all the topics we could've talked about, you've picked a pretty abnormal thing to discuss,”

“Oh, I talk about a lot of things, amiga. I don't normally find things to talk about, but when I do, I talk about said thing for a LONG time, regardless of how weird the topic is. Hell, it's good enough that I'm even capable of SPEAKING to you right now. Speaking of weird conversation topics, I remember this one time that my brother and I spent about thirty minutes arguing whether you should hold chopsticks with your left or right hand.

            “What about you? Any conversation topics YOU enjoy talking about?” Elmer asked.

“Nah, I never have to come up with topics. There's always something I can discuss right there, on the spot. No thinking required,”

“Holy shit. I might know what that feels like, but it's been a long time since I've ever engaged a close friend in a conversation. I'm just that kind of guy, I guess. For me, I can't talk about anything that comes to mind to anyone I meet, mainly due to the fact that my mind just goes blank the second I engage in a conversation,”

“Well, having a close connection with the person you're talking to DOES makes the conversation easier...”

“What about you, then? What do you talk about with your close friends? TV shows?”

“Nope,”

“Books? The difficulty of having a job that involves being on the wrong side of the law?”

“A little, but only for a while. I mean, EVERYBODY talks about the difficulty of their job.” I said, looking at the SPS (Spatial Positioning System) screen on the flight panel. According to the SPS, we were only minutes away from Plavok Moon. The both of us stayed quiet for the rest of the journey (just kidding, Elmer started speaking again after a few seconds of silence, although he wasn't exactly what I'd call the “speaking type”. Oh well, I suppose I should give the guy a chance).

            “What techniques do women use to style their hair, anyway? I've seen some girls tie their hair in many different ways, but I never really understood WHY they'd tie their hair in a bun one day, then let the hair loose the next,” Elmer asked out of the blue. “Yes, I'm fully aware of the weirdness of the question I'm asking you, but please, just answer the fucking question,”

“I don't know, actually. Girls style their hair however they want, depending on the situation,”

“What about hairclips and shit? I'm aware of the fact that people use hair-related accessories to tie their hair and shit, but exactly WHEN do women use these tools? Maybe when it's hot or humid outside?”

“First of all, you use hairclips to CLIP your hair, not TIE it (Wow. REAL smooth, casanova). We girls use these 'accessories' to tie our hair so that it doesn't block our faces,”

“Is that why girls normally tie their back when they're reading and shit?”

“Well, it's not the MAIN reason; as I've previously mentioned, we girls tie our hair whenever we want, however we want. It depends on the person,”

“So I take it that the whole 'hair' issue is more to style than practicality?”

“Both. There ARE some people who read with their hair let loose. I'm usually more to practicality.” I said.

            I glanced at the SPS screen again, which showed that the Varkaris was very close to Plavok Moon. I looked out of the cockpit window and sure enough, I saw a huge, green moon covered in tiny, blue specks. “We're nearing Plavok Moon. Seeing that you've already had experience with this stuff, I assume that you already know the drill once we touch down on the surface?”

“Well, about that...I've been wondering. You know how you previously said that you 'fetched stuff in places throughout the Nebo System' or some shit?”

“Yeah, sometimes people task me with retrieving some pretty difficult items that I'm supposed to bring to them later on. Why? You need my help getting something?” I inquired. Elmer bit his lip (again) before speaking.

“Something like that. It's...kinda hard to explain,” the mercenary managed to say, apparently finding difficulty in finding the correct words to utter.

“What is it?” I pressed, curious about what Elmer wanted to propose.

“Here's what I have in mind...” the mercenary began.