Originally hosted on https://illoria.wixsite.com/annamittower/anthology-of-speculative-scribbles
After Natalie went to bed, he accessed the station network and searched for Cardinal Military Corporation. Several items popped up, one of which was a listing for a shop on the station itself. Apparently the mercs ran a very small outpost on the station for some reason. He looked closer at the information and saw that the listing had only been created two days ago. No, this wasn't a current shop. The ship must be bringing people to create the post. He flagged the listing for any updates on when they would open.
The other items on the search described the history of the corporation, a link to the corporation's informational guide, and some reviews of past actions. All in all, this particular batch of mercs didn't seem to be the vile vacuum of morals that mercs often were portrayed as in popular entertainment.
Miklin watched the progress of the merc ship as it crawled in system over the next few days. It moved much faster than the normal trading ships, however, and it arrived after only four days. In that time, his luck at finding jobs dried up even more to the point where they could barely afford to buy food for the next week.
Half-starved, he resolved to visit the mercs as soon as their post opened its doors. Perhaps they wouldn't mind docking his pay to provide an advance for Natalie and surely mercs would pay a better salary than a trading ship due to the danger quotient of the job.
It took the mercs nearly two days to set up their new outpost. Miklin saw plenty of their soldiers around the station. They moved in pairs or larger groups with a high level of discipline and had the appearance of being well-fed and cared for. Those that ran the station nearly bent over backwards to accommodate them as the new outpost would bring in newcomers and fresh business for all. It was the constant stream of high level visitors which kept Miklin from visiting the outpost himself when it first opened.
He was at the point of despairing ever being able to enter, when the stream of visitors finally died off. Now only those in CMC uniforms entered and exited the post and two stood on guard with weapons outside the door.
Miklin ate the half nootbar and waited for his stomach to stop rumbling. It wouldn't do to appear starved during his visit. Then he steeled himself and headed for the door.
"Halt." One of the guards brought his weapon up. "What business do you have here?"
Miklin halted and straightened. "I was hoping to talk with a recruiter."
The other guard spoke quietly into a wrist unit and nodded at the response. "You can go inside."
"Um, thank you." Miklin tried not to let his nerves show at this display of authority. He'd been conditioned to avoid the authorities on this station for so long that he had an automatic skittish reaction to their presence. It didn't help that he thought he could feel a faint trace of amusement from both guards at his reaction.
He pushed open the door to find a small room containing three chairs, a desk, cabinets and a few plants. Behind the desk sat a man in the same uniform as the guards but with more braid and metals on it. The man stood up and held out a hand.
"Welcome. I'm Lieutenant Maxwell Franks. You are?"
Miklin shook the offered hand. "Miklin Chandler."
"Then, Mr. Chandler, take a seat." He sat in the single chair behind the desk.
Miklin chose the chair farther away from the door as it was angled so as to still see the door.
The lieutenant noticed the choice but didn't comment on it. "What can we at Cardinal Military Corporation do for you, Mr. Chandler?"
"I'm...looking for a job." Miklin blurted it out before he lost his nerve.
"I see. Usually people are when they come to see us. Or they wish to hire us. You don't, pardon me, look like the latter."
"No, uh, sir." Miklin smiled faintly at the joke. "Are you hiring?"
"We are always hiring, provided you can pass bootcamp. It's not an easy job and more than likely you'll never return to this station or planet ever again, unless, of course, you quit or flunk out."
"I'm perfectly fine with never seeing this station ever again." Miklin couldn't hold back the bitterness in his voice.
The other man didn't seem surprised by it, however, but looked at him thoughtfully. "How about you be honest with me and tell me what you are running from?"
Miklin sighed. He might as well. The merc officer would find out as soon as he searched for his name in the station's records.
"First of all, I didn't commit a crime. I'm not running from the law."
The man nodded. "Go on."
"Just over a year ago, no, it's closer to a year and a half by now, I and my sister were perfectly fine and we both worked jobs in this station. Low level jobs, but they provided what we needed. I used to do inventory for Ember & Spice, an eatery over in the nicer district, and my sister worked at the same place but in administration. She was always more of a numbers person than I and she processed the buy orders while I stocked and kept track of the inventory. However, she found a discrepancy in the accounts while doing research for one of the orders. She told me and I told her to keep her mouth shut about it. Ember & Spice was run by the son of the station manager so revealing the discrepancy would only cause trouble that we didn't need.
"And she did keep quiet. However, then she happened to visit the warehouse to check on the items in the latest order. A piece of equipment went haywire and knocked down shelves. Many people were injured, but my sister was nearly killed. She was and still is crippled. And that bastard that owned the eatery refused to pay proper compensation for the accident. The courts never properly punished him or E&S for the accident and it was all hushed up by the station manager. So, I resolved to get even."
Author's Note:
What do you think Miklin did for his revenge? Check in next week for the answer when the final part of Last Resort goes live.
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