File 04 Reunion with an Old Acquaintance
Shaun Lyatt
It had already been two weeks since acquiring the new ship.
Work was going extremely smoothly.
The ship’s name has changed from [White Cargo] to [White Cargo II], but the nature of the work itself remained the same.
Thanks to that, the savings that had been depleted when buying the ship were steadily accumulating again.
The fortunate thing was that since it was larger than the previous ship, the cargo hold became more spacious, allowing twice as much cargo at 240 tons to be loaded compared to before.
With the larger ship size, the passenger area also became considerably more spacious, having two cabins for guests as well as the same amenities as before – a washroom, toilet, and kitchen, but with a bathroom instead of just a shower room.
Furthermore, there was a narrower second floor that I made into my private quarters.
I was able to spend my days very smoothly, without getting involved in any troubles or dealing with troublesome clients.
And so, I had come to the cargo delivery reception desk of the Galactic Cargo Transporters Association, which served as my home base on the planet Orlangea.
“I need an inspection.”
“Ah, welcome back Snail. Seems like you didn’t run into any trouble this time.”
However, at the Orlangea cargo delivery reception was Sasara Esunvelda, who proclaimed herself the eternal seventeen-year-old.
As always, she called me by the nickname Snail.
“Can’t you stop that already? It’s at the level where I could sue.”
“Aw, come on. It’s like a code name.”
“It’s a discriminatory term. Anyway, I need an inspection.”
“Ok~”
Nevertheless, this was a regular occurrence, so without making too much of it, I brought my wrist terminal close to the inspection machine to receive payment for the job.
“Alright, the fiber transport request from the spinning company is complete. The reward is the usual amount, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Then here is your reward.”
As usual, it was half cash, half information payment.
At that moment, I noticed some unfamiliar text on her name plate.
“When did you become the chief supervisor?”
“Last week maybe? The previous one was dismissed for disciplinary reasons♪”
She smiled and casually dropped a bombshell.
“The previous supervisor, you mean that heavily made-up mask-woman who was always glaring at us?”
The previous chief supervisor was a woman who was constantly glaring at us cargo transporters with an unpleasant expression, making you wonder why she even had that position.
According to the rumor from the information broker Sam, that masked woman had originally been a receptionist handling delivery requests. When offered a promotion, she was enraged to find out it was for the cargo delivery reception desk instead of the order reception counter.
Apparently, she had been warm and friendly towards wealthy handsome men but dismissive towards everyone else, earning her a poor reputation. However, she had connections to some higher-up, so she couldn’t be fired.
As a result, under the pretext of a “promotion”, she was sent over to this cargo delivery reception desk despite there being far fewer wealthy handsome men here.
“Her embezzlement was discovered. Though the money was fully returned.”
It seems even violating the law eventually leads to termination.
But there was something else that concerned me more.
Normally, to become a supervisor, at least at the large Orlangea Galactic Cargo Transporters Association, a certain level of experience is required.
“But if you’re the supervisor, that means you’re the longest-serving veteran here…”
“How rude to question the qualifications of the youngest chief supervisor in history at the tender age of seventeen!”
Brushing aside my mutterings, Sasara playfully chided me.
“[Eternal] seventeen, that is… Anyway, congratulations. I’ll bring a gift next time.”
It’s best not to pry too deeply, lest I face consequences.
“Then I’d love some Plum Merry cakes and Snail’s homemade cookies♪”
Her mood improved at the mention of a gift, but her last remark was ominous.
Plum Merry was a famous cake shop in Orlangea.
I understood the cake part, but what was this about my homemade cookies?
“You’d be happy to get my homemade cookies?”
Ever since working with my grandfather, I would occasionally bring gifts for the receptionists.
I had learned that this was the secret to maintaining good relationships, so I still brought gifts from time to time.
For me, it was simply to have something for customers to snack on, made during idle time on deliveries.
However, Sasara gave me a very serious look and said something shocking.
“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself Shaun Lyatt. Your homemade cookies have an astronomical street value among us receptionists. You need to be aware of that.”
“My cookies are like drugs or something?!”
“It means they’re that delicious♪”
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT GADGETIZEDPANDA.COM
Well, being called delicious is better than being insulted for poor taste, so I’ll make some next time.
After receiving my payment, I headed to the usual food court.
This was a kind of ritual I performed.
My grandfather taught me that “bearing witness” was a tradition among sailors dating back to when they were confined to planetary surfaces.
And so, plate of mixed grill in hand, I approached a table only to be called out from another.
“Yo Shaun! Over here!”
The one calling me was Tony.
Not only his disciple Sam, but several other familiar faces were seated there as well.
“Long time no see Shaun! I heard you got knocked out by a stun shot, but you’re alright now?”
“I was discharged from the hospital about a month and a half ago.”
This old man with a dwarven beard straight out of classic tales was Gardite Hausen.
He led the ship fleet [Hausen Trax] and was known as a reliable, disciplined man around here.
However, this old man also had quite a few infamous nicknames,
such as:
“Hey Shaun! Since your senior was worried, at least let me grope those tits as thanks!”
[Sexual Harassment King], [Perverted Horny Geezer], [Bearded Creepy Old Man], and so on.
The only reasons he hasn’t been expelled from the association are his past achievements, friendly demeanor, never doing it to actual clients, and only making such remarks to those close enough to not press charges.
I remember the first time I met him at 15 years old, he tried to grab my chest when I was in female form, only for grandpa to hit him over the head with a wrench.
This old man also helped out a lot when grandpa passed away.
“Old man, quit it already or you might actually get sued? By people other than us, I mean.”
Then the guy next to me also complained to the old man.
“Honestly, because of you, all male transporters get labeled as vulgar. When most are actually quite earnest and sincere.”
“That’s just sometimes. More importantly, why do you always have such a sullen look? You’re a beauty, after all.”
“Shut it. You want to get cut down?”
The one sitting to my left making the threatening remark was Caroline Wilson,
a fellow independent transporter like myself.
A beautiful woman with long blonde hair tied in a ponytail.
Her manner of speech is masculine, but she is undoubtedly female – especially with those womanly assets proudly on display.
With a mother from the former Empire’s territories, she trained in the “sword arts” and is now known as the “Sword Princess”, always carrying a beam saber at her hip.
But the old man was right that she constantly seems deep in thought, sporting a pensive expression.
At that moment, a shadow suddenly loomed over Caroline and myself from behind.
“Today I’m incredibly lucky, to encounter two beautiful blossoms at once.”
The shadow slipped between us, quickly draping its arms over our shoulders.
“You again…”
“Get lost, creep.”
Caroline and I shrugged off the hands on our shoulders.
“So cold… But I suppose that’s how beautiful flowers are.”
This was Shurgate Woodveil,
another independent transporter like us.
And a total womanizer who constantly hit on any woman whenever he had free time.
Which was baffling, considering some women actually fell for his lines.
“What’s wrong, can’t you see? What beautiful blossoms are you talking about? I’m a guy.”
“But you’re Sumerian. You know the deal, right? Sumerian gender-swap right before birth. It’s so they can observe potential mates from the same gender’s perspective and appreciate the appeal.”
Saying that with a smug look, he took my hand and continued:
“So to me, you’re just another lovely blossom…”
He gazed intently into my face with that cheesy look.
It was true that due to Sumerian genetics, we tended to have fairly androgynous facial features regardless of biological sex, so my masculine appearance could potentially be seen as feminine.
However, that didn’t mean I enjoyed being imposed upon in such an obnoxious manner.
“What kind of made-up story is that? Even if true, I’m not interested in you.”
“You’ll see my charm eventually…”
Letting go of my hand, he spun the pistol on his hip before aiming it at me.
I knew he didn’t intend to actually shoot, but it was still unpleasant.
More so because:
“After all, my partner can pierce through a woman’s heart too♪”
These awful one-liners were the most off-putting part.
He wasn’t fundamentally a bad guy and was reliable at work.
But that only made his overbearing sleaziness more problematic.
Additionally, his favored pistol was a Cortes Arms revolver-type cartridge blaster, alias the [Dracoon Bite].
Basically, he was one of those gun-nuts who had to showily cock the hammer with each shot, even when completely unnecessary.
Though pulling guns at this food court didn’t cause any commotions, at least.
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