Piru District

Piru District, Acordia, Boron Hole, Skolaris Nebula

A thousand blistering stars pocked the visceral darkness beyond the pristine glass against which his head rested. With closed eyes, he was unable to see the construction of twisted metal that enlarged steadily to engulf the distance. Vaguely ovular in shape, it was a multitude of rectangular sections around which numerous concentric rings circulated, with the largest at the center. Dozens of ships moved endless in a stream to and from the gaping docking bays that permeated its gleaming side, one of which merged into an in-going stream of traffic. In this section of space there were no border controls, no patrols scanning passports or searching cargo holds. As expected, many of the ships were remnants of their production days or simply unlisted craft splattered with obscure and often ominous logos. The ship with the sleeping passenger was a somber gray with viewing windows running along each side of its hull and along its front. An inconspicuous transport class vessel that often skimmed the distance between the station and the edge of Boron space. A hundred people were board the craft that headed towards Acordia, the largest Space Station within the Boron Hole. They would join a population of tens of thousands of the Galaxies outcasts, criminals, opportunists and countless others that found cause to leave charted space.

The man who opened his eyes as the ship jerked was all three of these things, and countless more. A few blinks adjusted his eyes to the light that now flooded the hull, his brain struggling groggily to catch up to the present. People were standing now and chatting amicably to their companions with a glimmer in their eye and a vigor in their step. Those things alone told him they had arrived. Those without hope often dreamed of finding something salvageable on Acordia, though few ever found it. He had been here once before as a child, and despite its pristine appearance it was rife with crime, pestilence, despair, grief and poverty. It was true that you could make your fortune on a place like Acordia and many of the travellers spent their time comfortably. Those that lived on Acordia slipped between the cracks, though. The lucky ones were hookers and dancers, dependent on the frivolous expenditure of zealous young mercenaries. Yeah, he remembered Acordia.

He stood and tugged a dirty ruck-suck onto his back with one hand, its single strap frayed and long past its prime. The crowd aboard the craft moved slowly but steadily towards the lowering ramp, many squinting at the contrasting light that seeped brightly upon them. It took him five minutes to get off the craft. The only mercy in the endless shuffling was that no Nuerverian blocked his path demanding his passport, and for that he was grateful. Before him sprawled the Piru District. He couldn't remember the story behind the name any longer, but he knew that it belonged to the Scarabs. Shit if he knew what a Scarab was, but he could see onyx-coloured insignias everywhere. On clothing, skin, walls and doors - anything that could be painted, inked or singed carried the sign of the districts 'owners'. They were known to ask entry fees from travellers who came alone, and to shoot anyone who refused. He skirted around such an occurrence now. Three burly men in out-dated Sec gear had surrounded an elderly old woman. At least she was old enough to only be murdered if she didn't pay. Pushing the scene out of his mind, he allowed himself to be swept away into the crowds and away from the landing bays. This close to the bays the streets were lined with bars, clubs, hostels and brothels. The homeless dotted dark corners, careful to remain invisible to the onyx-clad men that strolled past them every so often. One of them, a young girl with dirty cheeks and skin a little too pale watched him with large eyes. He tossed a few credits into her lap but didn't allow himself to look her in the eye. Instead he walked on, letting her thank-yous disappear into the hum of noise.

Half an hour later at he was deep in the middle of the Piru District. Tired of walking the crowded streets he had bought himself a small room at a hostel for the night, and gone out in search of somewhere to get a drink. That was how he found himself in one of the less seedy establishments in the district. Booths and tables adorned the edge of the club. The occasional podium held a scantily clad dancer, but no-one touched, and no private rooms were offered. It was classier, even if the clientele were likely to move on to lesser places as the night closed. The odd security guard meandered through the room, making sure no-one forgot themselves. One of them stopped and turned to face him. A tall Vangaru wearing dirty but serviceable Sec gear, pistol holstered at his hip. Left-handed, safety off. He spoke with a slight hiss, voice husky.

"I remember your face, you know..."

Beneath the table, he worked his own pistol from the table an angled it upwards towards the Vangaru's chest. One tug and the reptilian would be dead.

"Interesting."

"Yeah... I waz in a cell oppossite you on Dakha. Heard that prisssy Nueverian bitch caught you. Found out ssince then that you've got quite the reputation in charted sspace."

The Vangaru grinned. He clicked off his safety, finger balanced delicately on the trigger of his gun.

"Dakha. Not heard that name in a while."

"Good riddance to it." The Vangaru spat on the floor to illustrate his point. "I don't know how you did it, but when you esscaped you opened every cell in the prisson."

"No problem."

"I managed to esscape too, becausse of that. I assked the bartender to bring you a drink. Free. I owe you the thankz. Name iz Ranak."

"You're welcome."

"Fare you well, pirate."

The Vangaru smiled, tipped his head back thoughtfully and chuckled, and then walked off. As promised a pretty young Raelin with silky green skin served him a drink with a captivating smile. He took it with a whispered thanks, and watched her skim across the room to serve another table. He swirled the purple coloured alcohol in the glass, thinking. It had been five years since Dakha, but he remembered the Vangaru's face now; the reptilian had been imprisoned for murdering three people during a robbery. Suddenly tired, Ethan downed the drink and stood up to leave. He didn't like being recognised, especially by people that might sell him into Nueverian custody for a bounty.

Back in his room, Ethan collapsed onto his bed still wearing his dusty clothing and the Sec gear he had scavenged months ago. A few scorch marks marred its service, alongside a long crack (A few of which had happened after he had found it) but it was still serviceable. Better than nothing, at any rate. He expected he would need it on Acordia, especially if a bounty hunter recognised him. It was good that he didn't plan to stick around for long. All he needed was to rustle up a crew - though he didn't expect he'd keep any of them, reliable and trust-worthy crew members were hard to find these days - and steal a new ship. The last would be easy with his talents. It was finding a crew desperate and skilled enough to join him and not kill or sell him out that was going to be hard.

With a growing headache, the fugitive Farien known as Ethan Baird slipped into a light sleep.