Chapter 3 -- Omicron Station
The journey to the Rumalien-system took almost 4 weeks. The journey would have been longer, had Jack not finally decided to shell out credits to use the Hyperlane Relays, that were significantly faster than regular warp travel. Using these ultra-speed gateways could be risky when flying a stolen spacecraft, especially if they were guarded by Federation vessels. But Amagi's official designation had been deleted years ago. The ship was now registered as having been sold to a private pro-Federation company after the war, and later sold again to a private individual named Morn Dingo - who in fact was a real person -- but registered as terminally ill, and therefore the ship was now commandeered by his closest corporate liaison, Jack DeWitt.
It was an expensive affair to change the registration of former military vessels like this, and one of several reasons why Jack was still indebted to some very powerful and dangerous individuals.
Freedom had its price.
Jack had kept himself busy in the four-week long journey with maintenance on Amagi, and physical training. With only him and VIC to do the daily work on the large vessel, there was plenty to keep him occupied. They worked well together him and VIC, who was one of very few robots with advanced AI's that Jack could tolerate over a longer period. Although his personality could also be excruciatingly wearisome at times.
Usually, a day would start with cardio exercises in the morning, followed by maintenance and repairs. Before dinner, Jack would either fit in a strength workout or spend an hour or two engrossed in combat or flight simulation in the recreational room. Time after dinner was usually spent relaxing, playing holo-games with VIC, searching for new bounties or watching and reading intergalactic news. The busy work schedule and relatively harsh physical training kept his mind at peace and made him fatigued enough to usually get a good night's sleep.
Jack had never been the epitome of discipline, but his time in the military had taught him to structure his days with productive tasks, and when doing these longer trips, he was thankful for it. It was too easy getting bored and just drinking alcohol and using the simulator in the recreation room for sexual release. More than a few spacefarers had gone mad from boredom and loneliness in deep space or simply decided to live of pre-packaged meals and virtual reality.
Jack always liked to think he had enough in his own company to deal with these long stretches, but he could not avoid the pang of loneliness from creeping in through the cracks, despite VIC's company. There were three other robots on board, in the form of three drones with no interpersonal AI. Jack had considered getting a robot for the kitchen, not least because VIC's culinary abilities left much to be desired. But the thought of having two sentient robots and be outnumbered by artificial life was somewhat depressing to Jack. It would be good to reconnect with civilization, even if it was the lowlife-filled cesspool known as Omicron Station.
From the cockpit, Jack could see the station clearly, big and looming in the distance. The station itself appeared as a tremendous unfinished ring surrounding a small moon named Korigor. Every year, section after section was added to the growing station. The moon, Korigor, had been desolate upon the construction of the station, but the moon had later been terraformed to support an atmosphere and was now used as a place to punish those who broke the station's rules, as well as entertainment for the masses. Blood sport and reality entertainment taken to the extreme. Everything on Omicron was intended to generate credits, even capital punishment. Despite being a free port, nothing was free on Omicron.
To quote an old Terran movie, there was not a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Except maybe the Terran parliament or the Federation senate Jack thought bitterly while transmitting his ship ID -34-P7JK - to the receiver at Docking Bay 66E.
There were several ways to access the station without registration, but Jack knew his creditors would quickly gain knowledge of his return, so why bother? Sometimes it was better to register along with the thousands of other ships and be one among many. Just another ship in the never-ending stream of visitors, rather than to try and skulk inside, and make yourself a target by trying to hide your movements. Hiding in plain sight and all that.
As they came close to section 66E, Jack cut Amagi's engines, leaving just enough momentum to keep the warbird on a slow and steady course toward the docking bay.
Jack almost always used 66E, as he knew this section of Omicron like the back of his hand. He could disappear and reappear in this area like a fucking phantom, and he knew every corridor, passage, and gangway that lead to the docked ships. Useful, in the not so unlikely scenario that he one day needed a quick escape.
After docking Amagi, Jack paid the docking fee of 110 credits, and quickly left the docking bay towards the arrival area with VIC hovering next to him, complaining about the sub-optimal hangar bay conditions. Jack was dressed in discrete clothing in the form of dark pants, a grey t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Under the jacket was his Akryd Industries laser pistol in a concealed holster and in his boots a concealed DX1 serrated knife, that had served him well in the war.
No one asked to see ID's, and there was no immigration to go through. The only control element was a multitude of robotic scanners, constantly scanning for weapons. Weapons above weapon grade 7 was not allowed on the station, and the penalty for trying to sneak them in was severe. It was also a great way to make credits. The many crime syndicates and gangs that infested Omicron, like maggots in moldy bread, was always looking to gain the upper hand in the never-ending power struggle.
As Jack stepped into the arrival area, holographic commercials that were specifically targeted for his bionic lenses, blasted to life. Like a never-ending swarm of fever-induced hallucinations, offering everything from ships, weapons, armor, drugs, implants, and bio-enhancements. Yet the most visible was the commercials for the vast number of adult-themed offers and violent entertainment on Omicron. Commercials for brothels, pleasure dens, sexual playgrounds, pornographic live shows, and virtual sex-domes appeared as 3D livestreams and was broadcasted to nearby holoscreens as he traversed the gangway. Glimpses of females biting their lips, breasts being squeezed, coy teenagers winking, latex-clad dominatrices, male musculature and other sensual imagery filled Jacks vision, while a cascade of lewd offers promising him maximum release and ultimate pleasure was transmitted in a mix of throaty, sensual and moaning voices.
In between the myriad of sexual content was the other entertainment offers like gladiator fights, starship racing, Gorr-hound fighting, and Madame Ooxi's psychedelic journey. If you had credits, then there was no shortage of things to do on Omicron.
As always, the arrival area was brimming with people. Everything from bounty hunters, mercenaries, gamblers, refugees and tourists stood in never-ending lines, waiting for the station's supersonic trains or the flying autocabs. The autocabs came spiraling down to collect the passengers before taking off into the heavy flow of aerial traffic with robotic precision.
Jack pushed his way past a retinue of tourists of different species, dressed in the uniform clothing worn by the Interplanetary Banking Association. In the past, Omicron was synonymous with criminals, exiles, and outsiders. But the libertine reputation of the station had made it a tourist destination for those with money to spend on pleasures and experiences that were not as readily available elsewhere.
Jack had no doubt that some of these tourists would have the best time of their life. Experiences they had previously been unable to imagine. Others, however, would have the worst experience of their lives. Some wouldn't return at all. Such was the toll of Omicron.
Passing the excited bankers, Jack reached the edge of the arrival area and stepped on to one of the taxi platforms. The arrival area was many kilometers above the ground level, giving a good view of the many skyscrapers and spires of Omicron that rose and hung like huge stalagmites and stalactites in a cave. The spires were covered in huge holographic billboards, and they housed everything from casinos, brothels, apartments, pleasure gardens, restaurants and everything in between. On the highest levels perched above the rabble, were the most exclusive nightclubs and penthouse apartments costing millions of credits and protected zealously by the Triumvirate and their agents. The founders and self-proclaimed overlords of the station.
From those golden heights, syndicate crimelords, interstellar pirate kings, politicians from worlds as far as Mulmasa and the Triumvirate itself forged secret agreements and plots, while those on the lower levels acted as nothing more than disposable pawns in their designs that stretched across the galaxy.
Among the spires, a swarm of never-ending aerial vehicles snaked around in seemingly endless variation. Further down, kilometers from the expensively furnished casinos and clean filtered air above and disguised by clouds of smog, were the lower levels known as the Warrens, or Undercity. This was a place for the destitute and desperate. An environment in which massive machinery serving the upper levels never slept, and where the narrow streets housed an unending supply of desperate exploiters, thugs, and gangs that killed for the smallest of insults. The Warrens was a place of desperate survival, in which only the strong could hope to prosper, while the weak was abused and consumed. This was where Jack was going.
"Jack! Jack!" a youthful voice sounded above the huff and puff of the crowds. A Terran youth pushed past the lines of people, resulting in an angry remark from an Avarrian banker. The youth simply grinned at the angry avian.
"I was sure that was you! I saw your ship enter from the windows in the old observation deck." he declared excited as he stopped in front of Jack.
The youth was wearing an old Kazuya Industries cap too small for his head, and an orange vest that only partly covered the dirty oversized clothes beneath. He was 6 feet tall, but with narrow shoulders and a skinny frame, that gave him a somewhat dorky and gangly look. A great mop of curly chestnut-colored hair stood out from under the cap. His skin was pale due to lack of sunlight, but his face and deep green eyes carried all the hope and optimism that only the young possessed.
"Hey VIC." Aiden said, waving cheerfully.
"How are you Aiden?" VIC answered politely.
Jack lifted his hand hailing an autocab that spiraled down from above, and then hovered next to the platform.
"I'm busy Aiden, but it's nice to see that you are well." Jack said dismissively as the doors of the autocab slid open.
"You have been gone for long this time, and I was wondering if you had given more thought to taking me on to your ship? I'm 17 now, so I believe I am more than ready." Aiden asked, clearly stressed by the waiting autocab and the prospect of Jack leaving.
"Honestly? not at all kid, I'm busy at the moment, and this is not the best time to take on inexperienced help."
"Please enter." sounded the synthetic voice of the autocab.
"I will work for free. All I need is food. I just really want to learn the craft. And I have been doing everything possible to make myself ready for this." Aiden pleaded.
To Jack's annoyance, a female Kormak dressed in expensive robes and dragging two small obese Kormaks, presumably her children or her clones, climbed into his autocab and it took off into the aerial stream above.
"Arh fuck." Jack raised his hand to hail another autocab, only partly listening to Aiden's tirade of why he was the perfect candidate. A tirade Jack had heard before, and as he turned his head for just a second, a couple of Avarrians climbed into the second autocab and took off.
"Fuck this." Jack said giving up as the large group of bankers stepped onto the platform. He began a quick stride towards the train platform with Aiden in hot pursuit.
