Muscling his twin bags with practiced ease, Rose stepped lightly between and around the port workers as they hurried to and fro with their burdens. He trotted across the slightly damp tarmac and shouldered his way through the main entry. Startled custom agents in their regulation Stewart tartans stared at Rose as he pushed the unexpectedly light door open with a crash. Across the room a small man with service bars up his entire left arm turned to stare at Rose, while all around him the junior custom agents tried, and failed, not to show their amusement.
The hawk-faced old man, obviously the senior member of the staff on duty, motioned Rose toward his table with an evil leer. Rose had seen and worked with this petty-minded type before. King of this one shrall room, he was going to make sure Rose knew it. Rose's clumsy entrance had embarrassed him and now Rose would have to pay. All thoughts of a quick and easy entry into the city vanished as the man moved with deliberate slowness to examine Rose's belongings. For what seemed an eternity, he poked and prodded through Rose's cases, none of which contained anything unusual or even vaguely suspicious.
Rose was born and bred a warrior and his clothes reflected it. The warrior life was his heritage and, until recently, it had been his occupation. Returning to his homeworld, he believed it would be again. Like most soldiers, he traveled light. The three flight suits in the first case were identical to the one he wore. His single set of dress clothes was piled in a heap after the senior agent's search, but the mistreatment did not bother Rose at all. The clothes had been stored during the entire trip from Terra and they would continue to be packed away, in their current disarray, after the agent was finished. Shaving kit, underwear, socks, belts, and boots received the same treatment, winding up in the same tangled pile. Thirty minutes later the man moved to the second case. Around him the room filled with the passengers Rose had earlier outdistanced.
"So much for the first one, son. Now, what's in the second case?" The agent lifted the bag on end and attempted to work the double latches. Despite his best efforts, the case refused to open even though it was apparently unlocked. Rose smiled as the man looked up at him.
"Allow me." Rose set the case on its bottom and pushed open the two latches with his thumbs. Spinning the case around, he stepped back slightly. "It's keyed to open only on my thumbprints." The agent shot Rose an evil look. "Sorry," he added quickly.
Lifting the top of the custom case, the agent could not contain his surprise to see a single laser pistol with three energy clips. Without looking at Rose, the agent lifted the pistol out of the case.
"Fancy weapon you've got yourself, son. It's a little over-balanced, though."
Rose shrugged. The weapon was his remaining pride and joy. Custom-made for his large hands and long arms, it had more range and penetrating power than any laser pistol he had ever seen. It fired more like a rifle with a short grip.
"Why do you need a pistol like this?"
"I didn't know pistols were forbidden on Northwind," Rose said levelly.
"They're not. Not unless you look like trouble or have a criminal record."
"I assure you I am neither." Rose held out his open palms, smiling slightly. The agent seemed unconvinced.
"This is a MechWarrior's weapon, though I don't recognize the brand. You fancy yourself
a Mech Warrior?"
Yes, Rose was a Mech Warrior, but one without a 'Mech, which put him among the ranks of the dispossessed. The agent's remark hit too close to home and he glared back at the small man.
"So you're a 'Mech jock." The man replaced the weapon in the case and closed the lid. "Let's see some papers."
Even in this modern age of computers and microprocessors, most people preferred to have the titles to their lands and valuable property on paper or on plastic. There was something solid about looking at the signatures and knowing the property was yours. In addition to the electronic back-up, many people liked to personally carry the legal titles to their property when relocating.
The customs agent was expecting Rose to show him the title to the 'Mech he assumed was on the DropShip. Rose reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and tossed some papers onto the gun case. The agent picked them up and quickly read through them.
"No 'Mech?"
Rose shook his head, unwilling to utter the words aloud.
"Dispossessed." The man's voice rose above the noise of the crowd. Heads turned, all eyes on Rose, who stood frozen. Had he been facing the crowd, he would have seen the mixture of pity, amusement, and scorn that rippled through the crowd. A Mech Warrior was a member of the elite fighting force that controlled the balance of power in the Inner Sphere. He enjoyed an elevated position in society, just as the knights of the Middle Ages were elevated above the people they protected. To lose one's BattleMech was the height of shame for a member of this warrior elite.