This a Flashfic based on a prompt from
ravenswept's 30 Days of Flash Fiction Meme
My 30 Days of Flashfic Index Page
Day 25 – Prompt: Noir Style
Setting: A bit of what could be RPG sourcebook fluff, giving a peek at a SF RPG setting I pondered doing something with in the early 90s.
Back in the day Van Domelen Station was the crown jewel of civilian space stations. For all that we know the rebellion was sparked by blood thirsty nihilists who infiltrated the national navies, for we all know the New Union government would never lie about such things, they only targeted the military stations and ships. I was a knee high kid when the military moved in and we went from floods of tourists to floods of khaki, blue, and green uniforms. For all my mother used to warn me to be careful around the tourists I never had a bad experience until the military seized half the station. Suddenly my favorite short cut didn't get me scolded but thrown to the ground, locked in a closet, and sent back home hours later with dire threats should I ever cross into the Naval Authority District again. And they wondered why we tried to scalp their wallets worse than we ever went after the tourists.
During the first of the Reunification Wars it was even worse, with armed guards at every hatch and bright red and yellow striped lines that marked were they could shoot to kill without warning if crossed. You can still see the lines today if you know where to look. After the navy moved out to its own newly rebuilt stations the new government tenants had them scraped off the decks of the main concourses. Not that it's any smarter to bother their guards.
So sure, the military is gone but that doesn't mean the tourists are back like they used to be. Sure, officially I am a tailor. You can find my shop only two decks up and a wedge clockwise from the newly rechristened Government Zone. Mending and custom work, business suits to vacuum suits, and if you know the right codes I might just have some information for you. Names, comm codes, or the right times to try slipping through the security sweeps.
But do mind your questions, I watch my own neck first. After all you know what they say, we rebels are bloodthirsty nihilists.
* * *
Short summing up of the background: Side A said side B was planning a coup. Side B said nuh-uh it's side A that's planning a coup. Next thing you know you've got about a fifth of the various nations space forces warily watching each other with their fingers on their triggers, and just to make things extra troubling they weren't split on national lines. When something finally sparked off the shooting neither side really won (one remained in orbit, with a fraction of its strength and the other made a run for the FTL gates, fragging the Earth-side hardware to slow down pursuit), at which point Side C which insisted it had no connection to sides A or B essentially said, "Nice mess you two created, how about we hold a coup so we can clean it up."
(Hmm, too many "For all"s sitting near each other at the top...)
My 30 Days of Flashfic Index Page
Day 25 – Prompt: Noir Style
Setting: A bit of what could be RPG sourcebook fluff, giving a peek at a SF RPG setting I pondered doing something with in the early 90s.
Back in the day Van Domelen Station was the crown jewel of civilian space stations. For all that we know the rebellion was sparked by blood thirsty nihilists who infiltrated the national navies, for we all know the New Union government would never lie about such things, they only targeted the military stations and ships. I was a knee high kid when the military moved in and we went from floods of tourists to floods of khaki, blue, and green uniforms. For all my mother used to warn me to be careful around the tourists I never had a bad experience until the military seized half the station. Suddenly my favorite short cut didn't get me scolded but thrown to the ground, locked in a closet, and sent back home hours later with dire threats should I ever cross into the Naval Authority District again. And they wondered why we tried to scalp their wallets worse than we ever went after the tourists.
During the first of the Reunification Wars it was even worse, with armed guards at every hatch and bright red and yellow striped lines that marked were they could shoot to kill without warning if crossed. You can still see the lines today if you know where to look. After the navy moved out to its own newly rebuilt stations the new government tenants had them scraped off the decks of the main concourses. Not that it's any smarter to bother their guards.
So sure, the military is gone but that doesn't mean the tourists are back like they used to be. Sure, officially I am a tailor. You can find my shop only two decks up and a wedge clockwise from the newly rechristened Government Zone. Mending and custom work, business suits to vacuum suits, and if you know the right codes I might just have some information for you. Names, comm codes, or the right times to try slipping through the security sweeps.
But do mind your questions, I watch my own neck first. After all you know what they say, we rebels are bloodthirsty nihilists.
* * *
Short summing up of the background: Side A said side B was planning a coup. Side B said nuh-uh it's side A that's planning a coup. Next thing you know you've got about a fifth of the various nations space forces warily watching each other with their fingers on their triggers, and just to make things extra troubling they weren't split on national lines. When something finally sparked off the shooting neither side really won (one remained in orbit, with a fraction of its strength and the other made a run for the FTL gates, fragging the Earth-side hardware to slow down pursuit), at which point Side C which insisted it had no connection to sides A or B essentially said, "Nice mess you two created, how about we hold a coup so we can clean it up."
(Hmm, too many "For all"s sitting near each other at the top...)
no subject
Date: 2011-07-15 12:58 am (UTC)Reminds me of Moon is a Harsh Mistress.