We arrived amongst the many starships slowly approaching the multitude of landing bays on The Forge. We passed through the thin artificial atmosphere.
"Starship Paragon, please proceed to the intergalactic landing bay and adhere to the instructions upon arrival." A squeaky voice called over the coms. Clearly a female gnome.
Paragon dinged acknowledgment and proceed to veer from the main pathways being taken by majority of the starships. There was a wide open hanger bay with a bunch of spiral sprayers to decontaminate the outside of the ship before anyone enters the bay. We sat in the cockpit, both a feeling of comfort and anxiety for what is to come. The ship began to get sprayed down and we could see an open room with dwarves and gnomes being suited up in hazmat. When the sprays clicked and the hissing of the fumes stopped, they entered the bay.
"Please lower your hatch." A small black dwarf had called, reading from his chart. Assuming intergalactic travels don't happen very often, there were reading step by step the precautions that needed to be taken. "Please exit the ship in an orderly fashion and process to the sentient life decontamination room. If you, or a member of your team is cyborg or robotic, please proceed but inform the caretakers that you are such." The dwarf continued.
We lowered the hatch and listened to the all too familiar sound of the hiss as pressure inside the ship and the hanger bay struggled to match. We picked up our bags and descended onto the platform. A smell of chemicals filled the air and made it hard to breathe.
"Good evening gentlemen, my names Aldrich, I am the coordinator for decontamination in the intergalactic sector. I hope you found your journey to be as exciting as I imagined. Before I allow you to travel to the decontamination room, I need to know if you have sustained any injuries that need medical attention right now?"
"Aldrich, look at you! Son of a gun. Making it to coordinator in decontamination! Pops must be proud of ye. Barely noticed you in that suit!" Said Fjorn.
"Fjorn is that you? I hardly recognized ya! Looks like you have gained a few more stress wrinkles since the last time we shared an ale!" Aldrich said with the biggest grin.
"Ahh, yes lad, we have a lot to catch up on." Fjorn said.
"Well, I am sure you know the quarantine process. Get decontaminated, don't drink too much ale and if you feel sick within the next week, seek immediate medical attention. After that, you will be deemed ready to exit The Forge if you would like to." Aldrich explained.
"Ay lad, make sure to park Paragon in the usual spot for me? I hate it being too close. You know these new folks always bumpin' into other ships and what not." Fjorn said, half jokingly, but a hint of seriousness.
"You know I take care of my good friends. See you at Goldie's Tavern tonight mate?" Aldrich asked.
"Of course lad, but I might have some company. Me and my friend here still have some unfinished business." Fjorn said, but eager to catch up with Aldrich.
"Ahh yes, the swordsman. I always thought y'all would be a bit taller!" Aldrich said examining me.
"I could say the same." I said with a big smile.
"I can tell he's gonna be fun to drink with! I will see y'all later, I need to finish the search of the ship!." Aldrich couldn't help but smile big beneath his hazmat suits visor.
We proceeded to decontamination. I unsheathed my sword and placed it in the bins labeled 'very valuable' followed by my bag, and then glared at the bin labeled, 'clothing'. I stripped down to nothing and put my clothes in that bin. I stepped forward and began to get sprayed down and had electronics scan my body. I heard a high pitched sound and the bin containing my clothes got incinerated.
"What the hell man! I don't have other clothes." I said.
"Lad, it's The Forge, we can get you something." Fjorn said, seemingly happy for the plans we had tonight.
"So what am I supposed to do? Walk around in my birthday suit until the shops give me proper wear?" I asked.
The decontaminations room AI spoke almost immediately. "We have garb selections for those who ventured into intergalactic space, would you like to see?"
"Yes, please." I said.
"We have a collection of swordsman clothing, would you prefer to see those first?" The AI asked.
"Yes.... Please." I became a little irritated, but maybe it was time I rid of those false Olympian set of clothes.
There was a set of all black, silk fabric clothes. Labeled 'spec ops' which clearly was a title for it being all black clothing, because none of it seemed to make sense to wear on a mission. I skimmed through the collections and stumbled upon a set of dark blue and black Kevlar. I selected it. It scanned my retina, and proceeded to ask. "Would you like to see your available balance?"
"Sure." One of the many things I had forgotten was how much money I even had.
"Account balance was three million, four hundred and thirty two coins after purchase." The AI side.
Fjorn stopped what he was doing and stared with an open mouth. "Lad, I figured a swordsman would be heavily compensated for missions. But three million coins?! AI, what is my balance?"
"Fjorn, your balance, is, four thousand and twelve coins." The AI said.
"Bloody hell! Drinks are on you tonight boy." Frustration may have actually added an extra wrinkle to Fjorns face.
I couldn't help but laugh a bit at Fjorns reaction. I mean, surely he hasn't gotten paid from this mission. The lowest pay someone would take would be around five hundred thousand coins as a minimum for intergalactic space travel. Especially considering he was the pilot. Unless someone wasn't expecting to pay us at all, considering I don't think we were supposed to be coming back.
We finished the decontamination room and put on our new clothes. I had requested a slot on the back of my shirt to be able to hold my sword. The clothes fit perfectly and it was kind of nice being in something fresh. We exited the hanger bay sector and began to walk down the street. We were coming up on the marketplace. The first section of the marketplace was filled with exotic foods from all around the galaxy. Vendors shouted behind their food stands while tourists piled in to examine and even purchase their goods.
"Come get your one of kind human food! They call it pizza! You can put virtually anything you want on it! Or maybe a hot dog! Not from real dog, but its still pretty good!" The alien vendor shouted! His purple skin was blotched with spurts of black dots.
"Nibiru special! The best dang food you will ever have!" One vendor shouted, I peaked over in curiosity and left feeling nauseous at the cheap attempts to copy our food. The streets of the marketplace were packed. Agor'rathians, dwarves, gnomes, humans, and Olympians. Although they shared the same appearance of humans, they were slightly bigger, muscular and had a certain way they carried themselves. You even had species from the Frae's on Kaj'Matar, werewolves in full form, vampires, fairies and even elves. We had to squeeze by and bumped shoulders with many people. Fjorn unluckily was having the worst of it, being so small. When someone bumped and got angry, they noticed my Nibiru sword and appearance and immediately nodded and walked away from the potential altercation. Weird smells filled the air, a culmination of all the food. I would occasionally look up and see the stars visible as if we were just floating in space, which I guess isn't technically incorrect.
"I think the tavern is just up the way boy!" Fjorn shouted
"You go on ahead Fjorn, I need to do something really quick." I said, just loud enough for him to hear.
"You ain't getting out of paying the tab that easy!" He shouted again.
"I'll be there Fjorn, you need to trust me." I said.
Fjorn walked over to the tavern, the name on it was in bright green lights, 'The Monsters Tavern'.
I continued past the marketplace and taverns and inns section and went straight into the the Mercenaries Guild sector. There was one tavern in this sector. Mercenaries are seen hanging out there and usually that's where they are given their job. That's exactly where I needed to go to meet the person I am looking for. Hopefully.
I walked about the Mercenaries guild sector, the streets were significantly more desolate than the marketplace. The tavern I was looking for was essentially the only one with lights on and had people entering and leaving. It was not uncommon practice for individuals to be wearing hoods or cloaks. Some people never want to be associated with this crowd. But, the governing force behind The Forge actually deemed it necessary and thought that if it was out in the open like a sector, it wouldn't be so underground. There were two parts to the tavern, the public area, where you sit and drink and usually people would come in and offer you a job. The other half, was secluded to just members of the mercenaries guild that didn't want to be bothered by outsiders. If you didn't own a mercenaries card, you weren't permitted to enter under any circumstances. Luckily, I had my fair share of saving some of the mercenaries that were caught in a tough spot and they made me an honorable mercenaries. Although the thought of being a hitman for hire was not something I saw glory in, others do it for their own wild adventures.
I entered the tavern and there were plenty of groups all gathered around each other. Sometimes working in groups on missions make the job way easier, downside being, you split the coins. I looked around and didn't see the guy I was looking for. The music blared so loudly it drowned out all the conversations happening around me. Half the tavern was filled with hooded figures there offering jobs. Mercenaries were easy to spot, usually the biggest guys in the room, heavily armed, or modified. Cyborgs, Agor'rathians and such were the best ones to hire. They had no means of empathy for their targets and highly capable of taking care of what needed to be done. With that being said, there was a creed that had to be followed. No innocents, and never children. I walked through the crowds to the second half where I was met by a massive cybernetic bouncer who requested my mercenaries card.
"Just tell the bar keep that Xander is here, he will let you know I am good for it." I said.
He scanned me for a minute and nodded. I stayed put as he walked in and back out within seconds.
"Alright, you are good. Do not unsheathe your weapon inside and there will be no problems. Hope business is good." The cyborg said.
I nodded to him and walked past. There were a good bit of mercenaries in here as well. The bar keep, Dragen waved me over. Dragen was a human. He had red hair, and pale skin. He stood about six feet three inches tall and definitely had his fair share of ale. He had arrived on The Forge when he was a boy. His town was been ravaged by werewolves, a lost ancestral version of the ones on Kaj'Matar. He was the only survivor. When the swordsmen arrived to eradicate the beasts from the humans home land, Earth, they took Dragen and raised him good. He was tired of being stuck on the ship and decided he wanted to stay here. Seeing as he fell in love with the mercenaries guild, he became a bar keep. He would always say, "I can't do the line of work, but I sure as hell can make the mercenaries happy."
"Xander, back from hell I see. Been gone quite some time. I am honored to serve a swordsman of Nibiru." Dragen said.
"I am here on business old friend, have you seen him?" I asked.
Dragen looked to the corner of the bar. The man I was looking for always had a large hat and a black long coat on. Even from the other end of the bar, I could see he was heavily armed.
"Thanks Dragen, I will be back to catch up." I said.
"I know its been quite some time, but I need a favor. And I am offering a million coins for it." I said to the back of the man.
"Don't you see I am in the non business side of the tavern? Piss off." The man said.
"You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. This kind of thing isn't my forte, and it would help me out a great deal. You owe me." I said, showing my desperation.
The man let out a sigh.
"Do I need to speak piss off in Nibiru?" He asked.
"Olympus will fall. I will explain everything, but if you want billions of lives on your hands, so be it." I said, I sat and raised my hand to Dragen. "Usual please."
Dragen nodded and began to pour the liquor into my glass.
"Look man, I wasn't kidding. I have been through some hell for the last forge cycle. I want to tell you everything. Life might be good here in our galaxy. But there's a threat just beyond the void barrier. And if it gets over here, you can kiss this tavern and your home goodbye." I said.
"Earth is my home too y'know." The man said.
"Not very many, half human half Olympians running around." I said with a chuckle.
"What is it then? What's the mission? Who's the target?" He said without even giving me a look.
"Fjorn, a dwarf, and I were set up. Someone tried to get us killed. I need to know who gave me and him orders to be sent to Jotunheim." I said.
"What the fuck is a Jotunheim?" The man said.
"I will break everything to you, if you agree to help me." I said.
The man stared for a moment, pondering the mission.
"A million coins, and I get to save your ass again. I am down." The man said.
"To be fair, you have never saved me from anything. You might have helped, but I was more than capable." We both shared a laugh. "Listen, this mission can get dangerous. Whoever it was, got the okay to send a dwarf and a swordsman of Nibiru across intergalactic lines. You gotta be careful."
"Always am. Stop worrying about me man. I do this for a living. I am the best there is." The man said.
"Of course, how could I forget the legendary tales of Helsing himself?"