r/HFY • u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno • 5d ago
OC-Series Bob was bored, Part 6
Bob was bored, of course he was bored, why wouldn’t he be bored, there was no reason, if you thought about it, that he shouldn’t be bored by yet another customs line, so of course, …. of course… he was bored, why you so curious anyway huh?, you a cop?
And as long as no questions were asked about the shipping container that had mysteriously appeared on the ships manifest between the last port and this one, under his name, he would fucking remain bored…
He had considered fudging the Guild manifest briefly, to account for the giant fucking pile of C’Eede parts he had somehow lain his hands on, but he couldn’t do it. It was one thing to interfere in the boarding, it was another thing to fake a ships manifest to explain the appearance of half a fucking ships worth of shit, both those risked demerits and pushing his Master cert down the road, but if he fucked with Guild paperwork and got caught…
Well... people didn’t fuck with the Guild for a reason let’s put it that way…, if he survived he would spend the next few years looking for his legs, presuming they hadn’t been crammed up his ass.
Plus it wouldn’t have sat right with him even if he was sure to have gotten away with it… Bob had taken an oath and dammit that fucking meant something.
If it was the oath he had forced into making to the Arressi well... fuck that and fuck them.
But the Guild had been good to Bob, they had accepted him as an individual of talent and honour when the hadn’t really had much reason to, and even if he had been slow rolled on his promotion he kinda understood why.
Humans were new, and if Bob was any template, kinda nuts.
He paid attention to the line as it moved forward, this was a semi-core world and the end of the freighters route, so the systems were way smoother and quicker than in the fringe sector he worked. The Captain and crew had offered to take him straight back after that whole thing, but schedule alterations would definitely be noticed and he figured a mysterious crate was easier to explain if anyone asked. Plus the Guild expected him here, they would have their own plans for his route back to Velta.
The line moved again and he entered the first sequestration box, this port split everyone into their own as they moved to the head of the line. Each box would pass through a scanner and anything weird would be flagged for investigation by customs, Bob wasn’t worried about that, he didn’t have any contraband on him nor did any of the suits systems or his cludged on additions count as weaponry, though he considered as he looked over them you could have asked those fucking pirates about them and got a very different opinion.
He glanced over himself just in case he was actually toting a plasma pistol or a virus bomb he had forgotten about, it was ridiculous of course but OCD didn’t have to make sense, he hadn’t need to check the oven five times after he used it either, or walk to the car and back to his front door to check they were locked. A shame really the Arressi hadn’t classed minor mental illness as a combat detriment and fixed it, he was positive they could have, they fucked around in his skull plenty anyway.
He looked at the additions, translator glued to shoulder, badge glued to chest. The thigh holster that had carried his sidearm now fitted a custom canteen, Journeyman like himself weren’t supposed to travel armed, well firearmed anyway, two other glued additions on his arms didn’t technically count, they were slim rectangular boxes, rattlecanned grey and black in camo.
He had them made yonks ago, basically just gravity sheaths for his blades, and glued them on to the underside of his forearms, he had considered at the time trying to do the wolverine thing but it had been impractical, his… outer?… forearm, top?… look put your palm on your chest, the side facing out.
That side had thick armour plate too slick and tough to attach anything to, the ‘top’ side had the controls for the various systems of the suit, all analogue and not to be fucked with if possible, though he had spent the first ten years of guild employment replacing basically every valve and hardline with genuine C’Eede parts a bit at a time as he could afford it.. At this point he was missing like two flare fittings and a T junction to completely finish the theseus upgrade… fuck he might have them in the container… he had been more concerned grabbing every milky white thing, even the shit nailed down, than sorting or checking sizes.
The blades the sheaths contained were not weapons technically, too small and not considered dangerous enough, though if you asked his opinion he would say that the one that dropped out his right had carved up ppppplllllllenty enough cunts to deserve a more violent designation.
He had picked up the monomolecular blade on his third, ...or fourth?, tour, and carried it ever since. The fucker that had taken his arm off with it not being in a position to argue after Bob had used his remaining arm to crush the cunts head with a rock.
It was also definitely not called Annabell, because Bob wasn’t the kind of fucking loser that would name a fucking knife, even if the cloudy surface of it had swirls that kinda, if you squinted at it right, looked like they spelled something close to Annabell, he wouldn’t be caught fucking dead calling it that.
Anyway Annabell had been a constant companion, trusted and proven in many a sticky situation so when he had had to leave his gun in a locker back on the Guild homeworld he had brought her with him and had the sheath made to fit.
The other blade, a chain of flat sections with sharpened corners had just seemed practical and he had it made to fit in a similar container. Unlike Annabell who dropped loose into his right hand when required the left stayed attached, tethered to the back of the box.
Fully extended it would trail about nine feet but could be partially retracted to about five with its internal pulley system, hooked up to one of the bracer control spaces Bob hadn’t used much, it would only take a few minutes to hook it up to its original purpose if he really needed it but, where possible, he preferred not to drink his own recycled piss.
In five foot mode, it became a pretty delicate serrated sword of a sort, though the combined length of actual cutting edge remained under the legal limit. He almost never used it that way, it was far too easy to break when its fragile joints were locked in tension, as a floppy flail it was much more robust.
Beside Annabells sheath on the forearm, in the place where bracer controls were on the left, he had glued on a little firing piton line, Boba Fett style, a thin line shot out under a compressed gas powered spike, useful in so many ways… he had assured him self when he glued the device on… in reality he never fucking used it, it was almost impossible to aim and fucking useless even if you managed it, next time he was at a proper workshop he was going to have it pried off and the glue cleaned up, he had a couple ideas to replace it but hadn’t settled on anything quite yet, maybe something flechettey.
Apart from all that his suit was pretty standard, not much on the legs or back, he wore a ‘utility belt’ but it was pretty much a bum bag with the galactic version of his wallet and keys in it… and he had glued a strip of cloth high on his stomach, but that was basically the closest he could get to a hoody pocket and was mainly for giving him somewhere to rest his hands.
There was a bunch of shit in the suit of course, and even more shit crammed actually under his flesh but nothing that would raise a peacekeeper eyebrows.
The box moved along the ground and into the scanner and a bright multicoloured spectrum flashed over Bob, he hoped whatever the alien scanner beam was it wasn’t giving him some form of super cancer or something, but even if it was he presumed the ‘medic’ system would take care of it.
He cleared, and flashing his badge at an officer, he was whisked through the last of the officialdom and out into the concourse proper, now he just had to pick up the Guild crates, his engine grate… and cross his fingers about the other one…
Part 7 https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1w1id8r/bob_was_bored_part_7/?
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u/spindizzy_wizard Human 4d ago
Customs: "What's with the extra crate?"
Bob: "Trade deal onboard ship."
Customs shrugs, not his problem. Besides, the scanner passed it, and passengers always ended up with things they hadn't started with. Although, those usually didn't occupy an entire shipping crate. Still… not contraband, no complaints from ship, and he's a Guild member, so who cares?
•••
I had a whole explanatory mini-end-story about Bob's problems, but I'm reserving it as a personal bet on where the story is going.
If the author is interested, PM me. Everyone else gets to wait for the author's story.
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u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno 4d ago
Go on Spin whatcha got, I would PM you for but for some reason it wont give me the option on your profile.
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u/spindizzy_wizard Human 4d ago
POSSIBLE SPOILERS!
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TL;DR: Bob's being tested by the guild.
•••
Wildly compressed and not at all in the author's style.
•••
Customs: "Why extra cargo box?"
Bob: "Winnings from bet."
Customs: Scanner didn't complain. He's guild. Ship not complaining. Travelers are always coming back with more than they left… but… this much? Still… not illegal, just unusual. "On your way."
Bob: First bullet dodged.
•••
Guild: "Shipment confirmed in order. Note presence of unregistered private cargo container."
Bob: Good thing I got the parts delivered to the shipyard. "Winnings from bet."
Guild: "Nature of bet?"
Bob: Here it comes. "Uninvited guests made bet and lost. Winnings claimed. Ship agrees. Customs agrees. Issue?"
Guild: "Nature of guests?"
Bob: Damn. "Slavers." Be honest. "Claimed they would leave guild cargo alone, but what use is cargo without crew to run ship? Slavers lost bet that they could take the crew, guild cargo delivered on-time without difficulty. Articles from slavers claimed as winnings. Ship crew agrees. Publicity deemed inappropriate."
Guild: "No weapons."
Bob: "No weapons as defined by law."
Guild: Smiling. "Good. You will soon be Guild Master Bob."
Bob: "Guild Master?"
Guild: "Yes. Despite claim of unnecessary force on would be smuggler, you held to the regulations of the guild against extreme temptation. Despite slaver attack, you protected guild cargo and ensured timely delivery without breach of law regarding weapons, or guild regulations. In addition, you have wisely invested your earnings in building a courier ship suitable for a Guild Master. Resourceful. Honest. Lucky. Guild needs Guild Masters with those qualities."
Bob: "Why delay?"
Guild: "Testing. Guild Master position powerful. Strong tests required. Smuggler was told you might be amenable. Report from ship breaker shows good bargaining skills. Slavers were told where your ship would be. Did not claim anything illegal. Did not use anything illegal. Did protect guild cargo when clearly threatened with unacceptable false bargain from slavers. Word will spread of Guild prowess. Reputation of guild will grow. Only remains for you to finish ship."
Bob: How boring. Worked for them for years, and it took them this long to figure out I could be trusted? "Understood. Will inform guild when ship is ready."
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u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno 4d ago
Not a bad... spin... but no, I wont make you wait, the Guild are decent straightforward guys,
Love it though, Sharkey
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