<USS Avalon> Log-Fortune's Light

Fortune's Light

-A background log by Sirius Black

 

 

Like most days, Friday was proving to be hot, humid, and filled with headaches. 
Sirius Black wiped the sweat from his forehead and plastered the fake smile 
back on his face. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you tonight?"

A gruff and trashy looking man with yellow sweat stains under his armpits 
grunted loudly. "You got a room tonight? How cheap can I get it?"

"Tonight sir, I have a lovely room with two large beds, and a full kitchen 
amenity. Our rate for tonight is three hundred civilian credits plus leisure 
tax."

The fat man's face grew red, resembling a large hairy beet. "What! You call 
that a great rate?! I'll take my business elsewhere!"

A weasel-like man, thin and also sweat stained, stuck his head out of the 
manager's office. "Wait! Wait! Don't go! I can sell you that room for one 
hundred and fifty credits! Don't listen to him, he's new."

Sirius stiffened visibly. He had worked at the Château Du Fromage for almost a 
year longer than Randall, but since Randall was the manager's son, Sirius never 
got any recognition.

"Well then, I think I might just stay here then." The fat man glared at Sirius, 
then spoke to Randall without looking back. "You should really train some of 
the newer staff. Trying to rip customers off is bad business."

The manager stepped out of the office, her foul and rotten teeth bared in a 
smile that more resembled a grimace. Her blood-red lipstick extended past her 
lip line several centimeters and for the hundredth time, Sirius wondered if she 
were plotting to kill Batman.

"How's my boy?" She walked up behind Randall, who had a shit eating grin 
plastered on his face.

"Is this your son, ma'am?" The fat man asked thickly, his eyes undressing the 
vile woman.

She noticed his gaze and smiled as seductively as dead skunk in the afternoon 
sun. "Yes, yes he is. Isn't he a darling? And such a good boy with people." Her 
gaze hardened to stone and she glared at Sirius. "You. In my office, now."

Sirius sighed and followed the willowy wench into her den of torture.

The door slammed shut.

"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NEVER TO LET A PERSON JUST WALK OUT THE DOOR 
LIKE THAT?"

Sirius tuned the rest of her ranting out. He usually did. When she was done, he 
left her office and caught Randall fondling yet another pregnant housekeeper. 

"What are you looking at?" Randall sneered, his face looking more weasel-like 
every second.

Sirius sighed again. She would never fire him, she needed him too much. 
However, she could make his life a living hell, and that was what she was 
doing. Even worse, he couldn't quit because the job market on Rigel was so 
close to absolute zero that if you even thought about applying for new 
employment, you'd catch frostbite and die. Of course, there was always a market 
open for prostitutes and strippers, but Sirius still had some semblance of self 
respect left, no matter how low it was from the daily evil he was subjected to.

The computer screen at the desk chimed loudly. Randall smiled at Sirius. 
"Aren't you going to answer?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes and ran to the communications unit and activated it, 
putting on his best smile and going into full customer service mode. "Thank you 
for calling the Château Du Fromage, Rigel, located near the scenic city of 
Thesius. My name is Sirius, how can I help you today?"

And so life went, day in and day out.

Until...

___________________________________________________________________________

 

"Good evening sir, how can I help you tonight?"

A tall man, obviously Starfleet by the uniform smiled at him. "Well I'd like a 
room, if you have one."

Sirius checked him in without any problems or conflicts. The man was very 
obliging, and Sirius even got a thank you. The day plodded on, and Sirius put 
the man from Starfleet out of his mind until later that evening when the man 
returned.

"Is there something wrong with your room, sir?" He asked helpfully.

"Oh no, everything is fine. Thank you anyway."

Sirius smiled. "Oh it's no problem." He glanced over to Randall, who was again 
flirting with a house maid. He had been sick for a while, but much to Sirius' 
disappointment, he hadn't died.

"So, are you attending school?" The man asked politely, drilling Sirius with 
his eyes.

Sirius didn't notice. "No, I don't have enough money to, and besides, I'm 
barely getting along as it is. I highly doubt I'd be able to afford any 
schooling and housing at the same time."

"Ever thought of Starfleet?" The man asked more firmly than before.

"All the time, but like I said, I'll probably never get off this benighted 
planet." He shrugged. "It's still a nice dream though."

"It may be more of a reality than you realize. I'm a recruiter from the 
Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Here's my card." He handed Sirius a holo-chip.


Sirius was speechless. "Is this?"

"It is. If you accept, you will be given a scholarship, probably some under 
privileged student grant or something. In two weeks, a shuttle will arrive to 
pick me and any candidates to Starbase twelve."

"But--but why me?"

"I studied your limited file for a few hours. You've done excellent work here, 
and it looks like you've developed a few new subsystems that have increased the 
efficiency of this establishment. And I like your personality. We could use 
people like you in Starfleet, and it's a helluva lot better than rotting in a 
hole like this for all eternity."

Sirius smiled, then caught Randall out of the corner of his eye. His mouth hung 
open and a look of extreme jealousy was plastered on his face. He turned on his 
heel and strode into the manager's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Like I said, if you want the job, it's yours." The Starfleet officer left, 
returning to his room.

Minutes later, Sirius found himself without a job. The manager had stated to 
him that if he was going to go looking for jobs, especially when he was 
currently employed at a fine job such as the Château Du Fromage. So she fired 
him, and he wasn't all together disappointed. He took his only possessions and 
the holo-card to the pickup spot, and for a few minutes was afraid that he had 
missed the shuttle. But as the clouds cleared, he heard the familiar hum of 
sub-light drive engines braking and the shuttle--like a large gray angel--set 
down, the promise of freedom and fulfillment gleaming brightly on it's hull and 
in his eyes.

 



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