You're Hired

End of the Line Pub, Earth II (a few months prior the start of the RW plot)

The young, brown hair girl sat at the bar, by herself as she always had, from the day she ran away from her family on the station. She had long, thick, straight brown hair tied up in a pony tail. She wore the navy blue Space Taxi Driver's uniform common to this slum district. She had a shot of swirling green Plasma Absinthe in her hand as she turned to the heavily pierced martian man beside her. He had been trying to swoon her for the past hour, and she had had just about enough.

"You know, you martian gang leaders are really all the same…fat, ugly, alpha males with small cocks…that are forced to buy sex, rather than get your own girls," she said before downing the shot.

"That so, little girl?" The martian stood and pulled a gun from his holster, looking to the girl.

"Oh, absolutely…I haven't met a single martian that does relay on disease ridden space whores," The girl snorted a little, obviously a little drunk.

"I would keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut, chicka," he pressed the barrel of his shining revolver into her temple.

"MAKE me?! You couldn't make a whore yours if you tried!"

The martian man roared and smashing her in the jaw with the put of his silver revolver. His goons stood, drawing weapons of all sorts; knives, drills, saws. They started to circle, as people began leaving the bar. The girl stood and wiped the blood from her split lip, and looked to the gang leader. She walked over to the bar and poured herself another shot. Before drinking the swirling fluid she cracked her jaw once, then poured the drink into her mouth.

"Can't fight without your boys? I'm just a girl…come on!"

"Oh…I can floor you a second sweet cheeks," he grabbed her by the ponytail and pulled her close to his face, running is piercing covered tongue up her cheek. She coughed, his breath stank. "They just know that if they help me…I'll share you with them."

There was a loud bang and the man's head, which previously sat on a rather plump neck, disappeared in a spray of blood, gray matter and bone.

"Disgusting…pig of a man," a low voice said from the corner of the room

The other gang members took a step back, watching in horror as their leaders headless body crumbled to the floor. People began to leave the bar silently.

"All you better run along now," the mystery man said again as he stood and walked forward, his boots clicking. "Leave the girl alone…"

The martians began scampering out of the bar.

The man stepped into the light and held out his pistol, then motioned to the door.

"Go on! Little shits! RUN!"

The men scrambled away from the bar faster, and the young girl looked at her savior. He looked back down at her, and sat beside her.

"Name's Hawke…Captain Alistair Hawke," he held out his massive hand to the girl.

"I'm Gwen…Gwenevere Scott…I'm a pilot," she said taking his hand.

"Pilot…huh," Hawke smiled. "You're a space-taxi pilot…"

Gwen looked the man up and down again and then nodded. "Best pilot around here."

Hawke laughed slightly then took a sip from his tumbler of whisky. "I need a ride back to the stardocks on the Fargo Peninsula…you go that far kiddo?"

She nodded, her auburn-brown hair failling into her face.

"Good…let's go," he said as he dropped enough money for his drink as well as her's, then walked out, followed by the girl-pilot.

Gwen motioned to a banged up old sub-Astral Eagle Flyer, slightly embarassed. The ship looked, and sometimes was, like it was held together with duct tape and had the word Fireball in faded red paint on the side. She placed a hand on the hatch leading into the ship and hoisted it up for Hawke.

He quirked her eyebrow, then looked to her hand. "You're married?"

The girl blushed and looked down at her hand, a tiny diamond ring adorned her ring finger. "Engaged…well I was…two days ago. My fiancee ran off with a Martian woman." There was a silence between the two, then the young pilot shook her head and motioned for Hawke to step into the cab. "Get it if you want a ride."

Hawke stepped in and sat down as she closed the hatch, the whole ship shaking rather violently. Gwen climbed into the the tiny cockpit and fired up the engines. She pushed the thruster controls forward, and the ship lurched, stuttered, then rocketed off to the sky, high above Agosa District of the Earth-II mega city. The girl looked over her shoulder. "Thanks…Alistair…for you know, shooting thay guy back there."

Hawked nodded. "It was nothing…really, but next time…don't…don't go yelling at Chain Gang leaders. It's not exactly the best thing you could be doing to waste time on this rock, kiddo."

The girl giggled. "I think the shots of Plasma I was doing had some sort of…control over me. I don't normally shout at people twice my size." She looked back out the windscreen. "This ride's on me…consider it a thank you."

"You got any family Miss Scott? You seem awfully young to be working these parts of E-2…let alone flying for a Sky Cab company."

Gwen sighed. "I uh…ran away from home…my mom died and it wasn't nice…living with my brother and father." The tiny ship dipped below a rather large industrial skiff. "Fuckers!" The girl shouted then slammed on the dashboard. "Nobody knows how to drive…fucking assholes…" She looked over her shoulder. "Sorry…sir."

Alistair laughed, shaking his head. "It's not a problem….you a surface born, kid?"

"No sir…Sedna Station…the plasma-harvester floating near the Northwest Pole. My father was the Cheif-Foreman…probably still is."

The tiny taxi dipped downwards towards the sky docks, towards a big hulking ship, with four massive engines currently having it's heat-sheild replaced. Alond the side of the vessel, in a beautiful silvery-blue colour of paint, Razorwing-I was written, and below that the ships AEC identifcation code, T-7429-A.

"Set her down anywhere near the ship there."

Gwen face lit up. "THAT'S your ship!? Hyperion-class…quad-link hyperdrive engines." She sounded like a giddy school girl.

Hawke smiled. "You know a lot about ships Miss Scott."

"One of the only friends I have in this dump is a mechanic…did work with a lot of these types of ships. She's a freighter."

"Yeah, you could say that."

The sky-cab landed on the metal helipad that extended from one of the wide causways of the Fargo Stardocks. Gwen hopped out out the cockpit and opened the door for the Captain, smiling. He stepped out, his boots clicking against the metal ground.

"Hope you enjoyed the ride," Gwen said with a smile as the man walked passed her.

He stopped, and turned on his heels as Gwen was climbing back into the Fireball.

"I'm looking for a pilot," he said.

Gwen turned, her eyes as wide as can be. "Really!? I mean…really? I can call a few people I know who are look-"

"No. I'm looking for," he said, then paused to think. "I'm looking for the best pilot around here."

Gwen grinned, then took off her navy bluePhaeton Space Taxi jacket and tossed it over the edge. "So captain, where are you heading?"

Hawke placed a hand on his new pilot's shoulder. "We'll figure that out later."

Gwen laughed, and the pair walked off towards the gaping cargo hold of the ship.

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