By David C. Daoust
When Raymond Haul was a young boy, all he knew was his older brother. His brother and his brother’s friends, they were legends in the corridors. Ray was too young to hang out with them, but every now and then, they would all come by- Ray felt he was part of it. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to be a teenager, old enough to join their crew.
For the most part, the young congregated in the abandoned areas of the city stations, those areas that had cleared out, either from people moving to new moons, or moving to more populated areas of the same station. Of course, the kids weren’t actually supposed to be there, but hey, it’s not as much fun if it isn’t restricted. That was pretty much the mentality of those that lived in such places; added a bit notoriety to even the mundane. The stations were full of young punks bending rules, trying to have fun.
To Ray, Chuck was the most notorious there was.
Things changed though, when these small groups of teens got sucked into a bit more serious business. ‘Private business’; Private business wasn’t really something that was legal in the Royal Alliance. Everything was government run, government owned. But business is business; there will always be businessmen no matter where you go. The only thing laws against such things as private business insured, was that the honest would leave, leaving only those willing to break the laws, behind to profit off whatever they could.
Enlisting the crews of young men, to do the dirty work for them, is what changed the city stations. Sure, they got paid, and the more money they had, the more fun they could have, but really, they were being paid for their clean records. Once they were busted, these teens didn’t have much purpose beyond recruiting younger kids, which left them glorifying their crews amongst all. Which crew you ran with mattered, depending on the district.
This wasn’t how it went for Ray though; sure Chuck got mixed into some bad situations. When Chuck got busted though, he didn’t get shoved in a prison like most. The judge gave him the option, jail time, or serve in the military… Chuck served. Admittedly, this option may not have been on the table if it was not for the ‘Factions War’ being in full swing. Ray knew it changed Chuck’s life for the better. Chuck became a mechanic; he could take apart and rebuild an entire starfighter in no time. In fact, he did just that, three times a day, just running maintenance during the war… but that was neither here nor there, those were the lessons of Chuck’s life.
Ray was left behind to compete with the ever darkening reality of the City Stations. Corridor Crews and Mobbed-up Gangsters were everywhere. Constables were either nervous to go into some areas, or didn’t go at all. Those Constables that did, well, those were the ones you should stay clear of.
Ray had no choice but to run with his brother’s old crew. Ray did what he could to stay clear of anything too serious. In fact, he kept most of the crew away from anything that could truly ruin their lives. Raymond found himself top dog pretty quick.
His crew ran a chop shop, stealing high end land-speeders, stripping them down for parts. They were good at the work, and for the most part, as long as they kicked up a share, it kept them off the radar of those that truly ran the Corridors.
Raymond met Pleasant early on. Pleasant was a sweet girl, with a bit more brain than most in their district. They were pretty much inseparable, getting married didn’t change that. Those born on the city stations, thanks to life-long contraception implanted at birth, did not have children until they were ready. It was a procedure that was only still performed due to tradition, during the Ark Age however, it was enforced by law. ‘Kind of weird to the rest of the Onion in this day and age, but accidental births, -don’t happen- on the City Stations. Considering neither Raymond nor Pleasant had any interest in raising a child in such a place, it worked out in their favor to leave it as is.
Life went on. His brother returned. His father returned. Things got murkier and murkier. Raymond thought he could not take another day of the life…
Raymond got out soon after he lost his mother. His family wanted nothing more to do with the City Stations. They weren’t alone, a lot of their crew left with them. They joined a group of pioneers setting out to Twin Crown, a small newly inhabitable moon, a moon with very little interest to anyone- to anyone else, that is.
Life changed for the better on Twin Crown.
Until he lost Pleasant, amongst others, his brother included.
It was too soon. Too soon after he’d lost his mother, some nineteen years ago, it’s always too soon.
The Black Lung epidemic was a mess; it forced them to play along with these people from Grady, all to receive meds to slow the black mucus from collecting in their lungs. The hacked news feed did not make things better. He knew what his nephew, Craiden, had in mind for that day. Raymond wasn’t sure how that would play out; it seemed like a good way to keep the young’ns busy though…
Raymond had his own plan.
That morning, while the rest of the population of Twin Crown was busy protesting outside of the Red Faction’s ship, Raymond, and the other, older members of their crew, was busy crashing a high-jacked freight-truck into the back of the Med-depot.
“Because fuck you, that’s why,” Raymond yelled as the brick wall crushed in, revealing stock upon stock of meds stacked therein.
His family wasn’t paying a dime for this shit ever again.
