An Old Drifters Journey

"So, what have you done before and what can you do for me now?" The little old man enquires, looking me up and down with one eyebrow raised and the stub of a cigar half falling from his lips.

Hm, and that there's a question perhaps best answered with some bullshit retort on the topic of my work history... But what have I actually done worth mentioning to this old prick? It's not like taking the lives of a few wreckless idiots, too full of pride over enforcing ideals that drive almost any and all to a psych ward or a prison yard. . . Ha! Not that the job had been any easier on the psyche in the long run either... But ey, a man's got to work if he wants to eat. So a simple answer for the old timer it shall have to be.

"A fair bit of warehousing here and there... mostly aimed for security jobs along the way mind..." I pick up the tempo as the words fall out. "Not much else out there for a big guy like me afterall. But ey, pay is pay and food on the table with shelter over head is all I care for."

The old guy gently adjusts his glasses. Squinting at me while he lazily runs the one good hand he's got through his beard. A few seconds pass slowly, as if time is stretching and an age is passing us by. Just stood here with this little old fella eyeing me up and down and glancing over my shoulder, smoke billowing out from the edge of his half hidden lips. But then he breaks the silence between us with a barely audible grumble, "better talk to Albert." Followed by a thumb jabbed out, pointing down towards the other end of the docking bays. The thumb drops and the old man turns back to fiddle with his collection of gadgets on the workbench he's perched at. Almost as if I had never disturbed him in the first place.

"Oi!" I hear the sound come from behind, then a little closer "You!" I turn around to find myself facing an officer of the Planetary Guard stepping in close, looking down on me from his great height.

"Permit, where's your permit!?" he snaps a gleam to his silver eyes, one hand firmly clasped to the butt of the weapon strapped to his waist, the other held out as if expecting to be handed something.

"Permit? What permit?" I retort, surprised a guard has taken interest in me at all.

"Oh, you know... The one you're supposed to be carrying when walking around here." There's a slight growl to his tone with those cold eyes shining bright as they scan me up and down. "If you can't produce one now, I'll have to take you to the station."

"What?!" Surprised, I take a step back. "Have I done something wrong officer?"

"If you don't stay still I might well say you have," his stern face bending into a twisted grin. " Just come with me and we'll sort this out. Give me any trouble and you won't make it to the cells with a heartbeating in your chest." Stepping to the side he getures for me to walk with him, that stupid grin still plastered across his face. Frozen for a split-second I try to work out my options but instantly give up and let out a long slow breath. Clearly reluctant I follow his lead, choosing not to make things harder than they're likely to be already.

As he marches me across the docking bay the various ships whizz around us, all following their designated routes into and out of the station. Some coming to land, others on their way out. The hum of activity keeping my mind away from what may or may not be coming next. If only I was on my way out of here... Typical, the one time I reach this shit hole trying to keep my head down and I get picked up by this prick. Fucking permit! What bullshit. Can't say I'm suprised though. I guess I'll just have to see what the commander wants with me this time...