A group of former Degreggers, with their galactic friends, compiling their resources, purchased a trading ship, and outfitted the two largest holds with large, comfortable, reclining seats, blankets, and other creature comforts, each one being able to hold at least a hundred people, and the third largest hold with tons of nutrient packs that would last for long periods of time. The other holds aboard the ship were used for normal storage with many types of trade goods, the three turned into multi-guest sleeping areas and excess food storage were disguised. Why? Very simple. They made a plan to visit as many deregger planets and polities as possible, and start helping people escape. But to do that, well, sometimes to save souls from hell, you have to trade with the devils. -- Lessons
There are, in the universe, necessary evils. Most of them happen in the Edge Territories, and it's because of plausible deniability that they continue within. The Cogniscent Rights Committee turns a blind eye to it, as does the Fair Trade Commission. If they were dealing with Galactics then the accommodations and business deals going on would be quashed in a cold second.
Greater Deregulations refuse to be part of the Alliance because they don't like the rules. Therefore, they shouldn't expect anyone else to follow those rules either. If planned obsolescence and lying about the safety and longevity of your product is okay in Deregger space, then that's the kind of dealing they should expect. And anyway, any polity willing to sell off their population for shiny trinkets are getting what they deserve.
They call the ships Horse Smugglers and they regularly swap subpar technology for the "free" citizens or indentured servants of Deregger spaces. They even go so far as swapping expendable porter-bots for the cargo workers. The Dereggers don't immediately complain because the bots don't need to eat or breathe. They complained in exactly a month and a half, when the porter-bots broke down at exactly the life expectancy of every single piece of Deregger tech on the market. By then, the Horse Smugglers have moved on. Yet, the Dereggers fall for it every single time.
The accommodations for passengers aboard the Lord Kosigan[1] are as tight as they can get. Sleep nook space for all, with some of the mod cons that they are all afraid to touch. They are packed in from floor to ceiling, in rows upon rows. Given their obsession with their debts, there is a fiat currency that is beyond abundant for the simplest of tasks. Things they used to be charged for gained them credit, which they used to pay off a debt that the Alliance was willing to ignore in full.
By the time they reached Galactic space, their worries were greatly lessened and their personal habits had improved. The actual crew were mostly JOATs with a degree in traumatised psychology, and every single rescued passenger was a reason why. Like the terrified scrap known only as Jo.
They rarely left their nook, and kept their privacy screen up. On one hand, they had discovered that they could earn credits by following the educational programs on the datareader in the booth, but... on the other hand, they needed to up their physical fortitude.
JOAT Lee had decided that it was time to coax Jo out of their shell. Therefore, he did his best to appear harmless as he rang the visitor chime.
"What?" said Jo, currently a voice on the intercom.
"We've noticed that you haven't been going for walks like the others. Would you like a friend to come with you? We can talk about anything you like. There's a garden where you can pick berries for the ship and get paid by the punnet..." Lee lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, "I can get you as many as three punnets for free?"
"I don't wanna go out. It's embarrassing out there."
Usually the soft rainbow sweatervest worked a charm. The 'embarrassing' remark did raise an eyebrow. "Did we make a mistake in assigning you to the feminine section of the quarters?"
Now Jo showed their face. "Keep it down, they'd all murder me for being a traitor."
"We can easily shift your saved data to a new bunk in a different area," smiled Lee. "We have an assortment of stories for a sudden shift in temporary residences. You could be allergic to something in this booth, have a sensitivity to machine noise in the area, or simply a mystery malady that requires isolation until the whole thing is cleared up."
Jo weighed the pros and cons. "Allergy will do fine. I'm all over hives anyway." As they emerged, it was a clear case of really nasty hives, too. They gathered their scant belongings and clung to Lee like he was a shield against the slings and arrows of random happenstance.
Only in the relative seclusion of Medical did it -and Jo- come out. "I'm... not a girl. By body is, but I'm not. I'm really a man."
"Well, Mister Jo, we can definitely help with that issue," Lee said, offering him a menu of transition options, from the tailored new body via B'Nari technologies, through retrogenetics, to hormone and surgical solutions. "While you're transitioning here, we can place you in a special ward of other transmasculine individuals who've revealed themselves in passage. It always helps to have company."
"Like you'd know about that," griped Jo.
"You'd be surprised," returned Lee. "They used to think I was a girl too."
[1] Love and apologies to Louis McMaster Bujold ::blows kiss::
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / pstedrak]
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