The Whorls of Jupiter

Chapter 5 Capital Punishment

July 23rd 2521 Zenith

Deep within the labyrinthian network of insurrectionist ships known as the Bourbon Capital; Jorge, Oddie, and Sgt. Keun had pushed their way through the throngs of prospectors and buyers of the best contraband in the Jovian skies. While Yari Station may have been the center of Bridgemoor's influence, bottlenecking all offworld shipments and stocking a much smaller but higher quality bazaar, here in insurrectionist territory it was at its best a scattered flea market of junk with the occasional treasure at markup prices.

Shops and stalls aligned the open storage bays filled with the smell of burning fungus, while vendors hawked their wares of stolen weapons while others had prostitutes standing outside of their own shipping containers that served as their shops while their pimps operated cranes to raise them for privacy. Within the marketplace one could get some fungal kebabs, an outdated assault rifle, and an hour of sex in a raised shipping container with your preferred theme remarkably cheaply. Even the lowest crewmember of the Prominent Rage could get two of the three on a week's pay. However the currency for trade was unstable, a blockchain coin that rose and dipped as Bridgemoor stubbornly flooded the markets and tried to hack the servers to collapse the economy. People generally preferred to trade physical goods or sexual favors. Anything that wouldn't plummet in value over the latest software hiccup.

Jorge and Oddie wore harnesses and pulled a magnetic wagon loaded with Milwaukee Lager down convoluted tracks to the buying tavern. Despite the Bourbon Colony consisting of numerous freighters, the tracks laid about were in disrepair or full of unmarked dead ends. Maps were outdated and many tracks wouldn't link up due to rival captains fighting over territory and bribes to move through their ship's territory.

"Keep pulling slaves! The tavern is just up here on the right!"

"God..." Jorge wheezed, "dammit... Sarge... With your... augments... you could pull... this fucking thing yourself..."

"My augments are for war kid. Not manual labor. Besides I want to be seen in a position of power."

"I'm gonna fucking die!" Oddie complained.

"Fuck you... Oddie!" Jorge rasped, "Pull your weight!"

"Yeah Oddie you're not bullshitting me. I can feel more torque on Jorge's side."

"I'm pulling just as well as he is!"

"If you were then you'd be too tired to complain. Besides, both of you need to be in better shape. So fucking pull!"

An overweight middle aged man in a blue blazer with coattails waved at them and pushed a lever changing the tracks. Keun called down from above, "You the owner of the..." Keun double checked his pad against the tavern sign, "Bratwurst Izakaya?"

"That's me. Just pull into the storage locker and meet me in the bar for payment."

"Fair enough," Keun nodded before barking, "Mush my puppies! Mush!"

The proprietor stared as the two overworked men dragged the wagon inside.

***

"As for your payment Sargent Keun, I trust Shiitcoin will suffice?"

"The hell are you talking about?! We agreed to work chairs and sofas! You have any idea how rare decent furniture is since Bridgemoor cracked down?"

"I'm a tavern, not a furniture store. You're welcome to as many bar stools as you can carry though."

"I thought the currency here was FT Coin. Stands for 'Free Trade' or some shit."

"Well Shiitcoin is a new coin that could make you rich very soon. Unless of course... Your anger would be described as Prominent Rage?"