Outpost Tortuga, Beta Quadrant

[Opening description borrowed from Calé with permission]

Somewhere three or four days of westward travel from the last border of federation controlled space, sat the hustling bustle of a deep space station. Long since abandoned or seized (nobody quite remembered) from its original builders/owners it was styled as ‘Outpost Tortuga’ or more commonly known as the lawless port. But that wasn’t something they put on the advertisement. A dank and dirty station, half powered by and patched together with stolen ship hulls and parts. It appeared that, like its 17th century earth counterpart, the spacial tides seem to pull in all those who were lost or wandering in the region. The ramshackle station was a place with no governing body or alliance. As such a vast assortment of species and creeds could be found there. It was an inclusive sort of environment in that it welcomed everyone and everything. Dangerous, boisterous, drunken, and bawdy, Tortuga was pirate, smuggler, privateer, thief and general miscreant heaven.

Need some dilithium? Someone would be selling. Looking to find some illegal substances? There’s a shop somewhere near the habitat areas. No travel documents? Or happen to be AWOL from whatever alliance you belonged to? No one asked. Heck, looking for a non registered ship or transport anywhere? Take your pick, easily done.

Her well worn boots treaded lightly on the deck, each step made intentionally. If there was anything Faye Calloway had learned in recent years it was that if you wanted to blend in, you had to learn to make as little noise as possible. And even with the hustle and bustle of the quite frankly disgusting place, she knew it didn’t pay to be sloppy.

Her goal today was to find her next job. Krenitz had been at least kind enough to pay her her owed wages before she departed though she had been greatly tempted to give him one final piece of her mind. Ah, screw him! It was a miserable ship anyway. She imagined she wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.

Moving through the station towards what amounted to the food services area (if you could even dare to call it that), her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten much in the last couple days, aside from that stale protein bar she scrounged up when Hudson wasn’t looking. If it had just been that, then maybe it would have been let go, but Hudson protested when Faye (or Nova Carney as she had gone by for the last four months) refused to give him access to the replicator she was still trying to repair. What could she say? People were stupid. But it was the ensuing fight that made their captain not entirely thrilled with either of them, but since she had struck first (right-hook for the win), the captain told her to pack her bags and that she would disembark once they arrived at their next destination.

Her wages (in latinum, of course), were safely stored where people weren’t likely to try to steal them, and she counted herself lucky that this job had panned out at least slightly better than the last.

At twenty years old, Faye was no child, but then again she was hard pressed to remember a time when she had felt like one. When she had been really little, maybe, but it did seem to be to something from someone else’s memory and not hers. Five years after Tracken was razed to the ground, Faye struggled to hold on to the small happy details, each day claiming another one. Bit by bit her entire being had been subsumed by one undeniable need: survival.

If ever there was a place that summed up her current existence, it was Tortuga. She had been warned about the place, but really she had found the warning unnecessary. Faye could take care of herself. Certainly she had proven that time and time again, even if she could admit it hadn’t gone smoothly at every turn. Now though was another new start and she prided herself on being resourceful. She had enough latinum to get by for a little bit that if she couldn’t find work that was suitable immediately she would be okay. Her stomach grumbled again and figuring it was about time to remedy the situation, Faye headed towards some sort of tavern-like establishment that also seemed to have food. She didn’t much care what it was, just as long as it was edible.

Stepping inside the dimly lit space, she took up space against a wall (her brain trying to not question why it was slightly sticky) and surveyed the assorted beings drinking and laughing. It didn’t take very long for someone to sidle up beside her, and when Faye looked over… and up, she couldn’t place the species. Oh, her brain was running through observable features and making a list of possibilities but within a few seconds she determined that she couldn’t place them. And though she couldn’t be sure, there was something decidedly male about the being and having done this pathetic little dance on more than one occasion, Faye rolled her eyes.

“Get lost,” she told him, casting an unamused glance his way.

Leaning into her more, he chuckled softly. “Maybe I don’t want to. Besides, you look lonely.” As he spoke, his hand began to travel her body. “Maybe we should-” He abruptly let out a cry of pain and lifted his shaking hand, one digit on his hand sticking out at an odd angle.

“Touch me again and I’ll break more than a finger,” Faye said sweetly and took a step away.

It happened quick, but the next thing Faye knew a friend appeared clearly taking umbrage at her defensive manoeuvre and pinned her to the wall, a massive hand wrapped around her throat. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said with a throaty chuckle.

Faye wasn’t laughing. In fact, she was calculating ways out of this suddenly escalated situation, chiding herself for forgetting to look out for the accomplice. There was almost always a second person. But the man with his hand around her throat hadn’t squeezed and therein lay her opportunity as she elbowed him, striking upwards and knocking him off balance enough to give her a chance to slip out from his grasp.

No one around them did much except to glance over at the new commotion. Most went back to their food and drinks.

“Abby! Abagail! There you are,” a man called out, hurrying over. He slipped his arm through hers and not so gently tried to direct her to a table in the back. She could smell the old worn leather of his jacket but she couldn’t say he was dressed shabbily. If anything he cut a rather dashing figure in this gods-forsaken place.

The man whom she had just elbowed in the jaw stepped into their path, glaring. But the man in the leather jacket simply grinned at him and slipped something into the being’s hand. “She’s with us,” he said, almost as an apology. The being grunted and moved away, leading his friend out of the tavern though not without a final glare in Faye’s direction.

Ensconced in the back with a table full of strangers, Faye eyed them warily. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You looked like you could use a hand,” leather-jacket-man said.

“Actually I think nearly broke a hand. I had it under control.”

He smirked and lifted a tall glass of ale to his lips. “Uh huh.” He drank heavily.

Faye just shrugged. “Think whatever you want,” she said as she took in the others at the table. A table full of strangers she didn’t trust any more than the man who had been feeling her up.

He smirked. “So kid, you got a name?”

Kid. She wasn’t a kid! She braced an elbow on the table, resting her chin on the top of her hand, glaring slightly. “Abagail Blair,” she said, letting the new name roll off her tongue naturally.

The man laughed. “You’re funny. How about an actual name?”

“Abagail Blair,” Faye insisted. “Mother is Yvonne. Father is Henry. Both are dead.”

He didn’t laugh again, but his amusement at her obvious ruse was etched in his eyes. “Alright then Abagail, I’m Dirk Jensson, captain of the Kodiak. And this here is Megs, our pilot”-he gestured to the other woman at the table who stood out with a mass of red curls and dark green eyes and then gestured to the Lorillian male next to her- “while Temor here is our engineer. And somewhere on the station is Renn, my first officer and cargo logistics person.”

“Above board cargo, or below?” ‘Abagail’ asked knowingly.

Jensson smirked. “Above, as much as possible. But we’ve been running regular routes from Tortuga for awhile now.”

“I see,” Faye said with a nod, wondering how to extricate herself from this awkward situation. Then again, here was a freighter captain with a ship and regular work. But he already had an engineer, so she couldn’t likely couldn’t sell him on those skills.

“What brings you to a place like Tortuga?” Dirk asked.

She shrugged. “Just passing through.”

Dirk seemed to be assessing Faye and she simply let him, keeping her demeanour casual. “Got somewhere to stay?”

Faye met his gaze. “Maybe,” she said lightly, though she suddenly felt uneasy like she had been found out. Though it wasn’t a stretch to think the young woman had come upon hard times, especially since she was on her own in a place like this station.

Megs spoke up, her eyes keenly assessing Faye and her lean build. She had lost weight over the last several months because of the last two ships being just on the wrong side of terrible, but she gazed back fiercely. Megs had noted the torn cargo trousers and the worn suede vest over a long sleeved shirt. Faye was clearly someone who had seen better days and, like the majority of the people in the tavern, was looking for something better. Undaunted by Faye’s matched gaze, Megs smiled softly. “What do you do, Abagail?”

“Whatever I need to,” Faye replied back easily. Megs grinned as Faye continued. “I can do all sorts of things. I’m handy with engines, but even better with computers. Got transporter or replicator issues? I’m your gal. I’m not afraid of hard or boring work and… I cook.”

Megs jabbed an elbow into the captain’s side and gave a nod. “Dirk… wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe it’ll even taste good.”

Jensson laughed and Faye noted he was a man who seemed to laugh easily and fully. Nothing held back. It had been so rare a thing and she had to admit she was intrigued by the freighter captain with the silver streaks in his hair. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. “You looking for work… Abby? Can’t promise glory or any such nonsense but our days are certainly not boring.”

She shrugged. “Work would be good if I want to eat next week.”

Jensson nodded slowly, contemplating. “We could use a deck hand, actually. Have some big jobs over the next few months lined up. Pay isn’t great but we all get a cut of the profits. It’s a warm bed and, if you are actually any good at cooking, decent food.”

They were offering her a lifeline and they all knew it. She had yet to turn down any job offer. Well… except that one. And given how rough the last two had been she had to actively suppress the uneasiness in her stomach. Or was that just the hunger? “Alright,” she said softly. “But don’t ask too many questions and I won’t have lie to you.” Being up front here seemed to be the way to play this.

Dirk nodded. “Fair. And I have rules for the Kodiak. A place like Tortuga requires sometimes breaking fingers, but you leave that crap here. It doesn’t come aboard my ship, understand?”

There was a seriousness in his tone that made Faye simply nod. Loud and clear, Captain.

He gave her a wide grin and reached out his hand to her. Faye took it and they shook. “Welcome to my crew, Abagail Blair. May you find what you’re looking for.” It was an odd thing to say, but it struck Faye deeply. She smiled. Releasing her hand, Dirk waved one of the servers over. “A round for the table, and bowl of soup for this one,” he said, pointing to Faye.

And so it began again. New name, new job, new life. She could be anyone she wanted to (within reason) and go anywhere she wanted to. And yet… Faye was still looking for that elusive thing called home.

To be continued…