Kessel's Open Terrain

Fel smiled at the club's card, slid it up his forearm gauntlet and pressed a short series of buttons on the forearm plate, activating the comm system as he walked up the stairs to the Red Bitch's office.

Melia, keep eyes on, I'll be out shortly and I'd prefer to not be followed. Over. 

Leaving the comm channel open so that Mel could hear the extent of the next exchange, Fel activated the vocoder and replied to Gaia. 

Questions: Is four crates what Bateman is expecting, or am I pissing off my employer by arriving short-handed, just because some Twi' slave on a power trip decides that's what I deserve? Because I wasn't told exactly what to bring away from this little rock, and you had better give me the shipment that Bateman expects, or I'll be sure to redirect his anger toward you. ...no offense. 

He watched her, watched the gun under the table, went back to watching her for a reaction. 

If you're interested in my 'girlfriend,' I'm sorry to disappoint you, but she's a long, long way from here. If you're referring to my shadow, what would you like to know? She's a little... busy. But I can relay a message. 

Fel furrowed his brow behind the visor. But he did not move, flinch, or hesitate.

I've lost an eye. Can't say I recommend it. Though I've never scooped my new one out. That's a hell of a party trick. pause Speak your mind. She's been listening this whole time. But I don't give out codes, nor do I provide privacy. You want to say something, say it. She'll hear you, and can reply as she sees fit.

Something tells me, if you were really in charge, or acted with Bateman's full approval, you'd already have ways of contacting "your agent." And just so that we're clear... your threats against me will gain you absolutely nothing. Go on, Mel. 

Melia's voice came through the vocoder. It was colored by the vocal filters applied to the standard-issue Stormtrooper helmet, but it would be obvious to Gaia that this was no longer the same person speaking.

I'm here. Sit-rep: Eyes on your compound. Thermo image of you and the package. I stand ready. Over.

Melia moves her eye away from the scope and sets the rifle in the dirt and rolls onto her back, face pointed at the sky. Fel wasn't making things easy, as was his way. And she understood. She thinks about Taung, while the Twi' woman's voice comes thru the comm unit in her earpiece. Come in? Come in? Every fibre of her being screams out that there is nothing worse she could do. Give away her position? Take eyes off the target? Questions raced through her mind. Who was pulling the strings here? Who was Bateman? Was this still an Imp front? And Taung... what had become of Taung? She closed her eyes, momentarily paralyzed by indecision. She took a deep breath. 

Roger. ETA four minutes. Out. 

She left the rifle, covering it with her dustcloak, and pulled her macrobinocs down to hang around her neck. Covering as much of her face and head as possible to protect against the wind and dust with her keffiyeh, she moves off toward the gate of the compound, her two DC-17 pistols holstered at her sides, and the E-11 slung at the small of her back.

Inside the office, Fel grimaced behind the face-plate. This was really dropping their pants, figuratively speaking. Still, he held no sway over Mel, he knew this, and she was free to do as she pleased, or whatever she felt was right given the circumstances.

No, I'm fully prepped. Are we done here? As you've mentioned, there are places I should be getting to. Wouldn't want to keep tophat waiting. 

Fel was in the process of getting to his feet when the question was asked. Didn't make any sense to him. He almost didn't answer it, but turned to exit the office. He was stopped by something from his past. Maybe the possibility of making some money? Maybe the idea that deep down, he was still a smuggler and was always looking for the better deal? In any case, he almost didn't stop. But he did, maybe for old times' sake. 

No payment here, Gaia. I was given a ship to accomplish these tasks. No more, no less. It is not expected that we will survive to the completion of the assigned tasks anyways, so the ship... and her contents, are expendable. I am supplied so the tasks may be accomplished. And yes, I am free from prison. That is all the payment I need or expect. 

He made for the door, descending the staircase. If she followed, so be it. If not, he didn't care. He had his orders and his destination. One trip down, and the next looming large. After the next one, and the one after that, and another fifteen after that... maybe he'd see his chance. Maybe he'd find them. 

Or maybe he'd be dead, and none of it would matter. 

He walked across the warehouse, taking note of the slaves assembling the four crates ready for his pick-up. 

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Melia arrived at the small man-door at the walled entrance. The much larger vehicular doors were closed. She unslung the E-11 and used the stock to clang against the door once, twice, three times. 

Fel paced. Bitch. Fracking bitch. She tells me what to do, where to go, how to do it, hell, if she could she'd tell me what my shit should smell like. Gives me my marching orders and then gets pissed off when I march? What the hell am I supposed to do -- wait until she has stopped pontificating? Pretend I care what she does, or doesn't do? Watch while she claws the other eye out? This interaction has gone on FAR too long. I have my orders. All that matters is that the job gets done. Frack this red Twi' if she thinks her little power play involves me or concerns me one iota. 

Mid-pace, he turns to the closest guard and yells in his face--

YOU ARE KEEPING ME FROM 'LORA, YOU STUPID BACK-BIRTH!

...and then continues pacing. Sinistra made him angry. Melia could make him angry. Bateman made him angry. And this Gaia made him angry. If his guts weren't being eaten by Blastonecrosis, he was certain hate would eat him alive instead. She shows her face in here again, I've got half a mind to put a burn on her she won't soon forget, damn the consequences. Pace, pace, pace. Hurry the hell up. Get done what you need to do, so I can get the hell off this rock. 


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I am. 

You are. 

Orders?

Melia stood stalk-still as this woman she had never met turned her world upside-down, again. She thought of the troops she commanded, all lost. She thought of Necktie, carrying out Sinistra's sick little games on Garqi. She wondered what had ever happened to Demarus, and she thought briefly of Taung and her life, all gone. She accepted the comm unit, stuffed it into a satchel at her side, and nodded as Gaia set out the mission parameters, noting the new points and mentally stored the info.

It was a cluster-kriff getting out of Pesktda. Local authorities were aware of a disturbance involving Fel, but didn't make either of us by name or image, so we're clear. I've been scanning net and comm traffic since, and neither the ship nor our idents were transmitted off-world. So it's staying local. Fel is uneasy and unwell, but he's tough, and determined. The new order shouldn't be difficult. He has opened up to me in the past, and I see no reason he wouldn't continue to do so. We have our destination, but there are questions, Gaia. 

She waited for an indication that questions, or free speech were permitted, and Gaia inclined her head ever so slightly, her Lekku relaxed as if to say 'go on.'

What keeps Fel in line is the thought that the Empire hold the lives of his crew on a knife-edge. That there is enough damning evidence against them to swoop down and chill them all at a moments' notice, unless he plays ball. If we gave him direct access to his crew, wouldn't that edge disappear, or threaten his adherence to the mission? When do we allow him that access, so that I can infiltrate the crew -- without hindering the Empire's mission? What I mean is, if they're allowed to be back together, what prevents Fel, or one of his crew from calling our bluff? Certainly, the Empire could crush them easily enough, but then their usefulness is at an end. When is that permitted? Also, how high does this mission go? Does the current administration know about our actions? How often am I to check in, and to whom? Bateman? Imperial Intel?

a pause

Also, wasn't it four crates? As Melia poses this final question, she passes a datachip containing the ship's location to Gaia, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Melia's face grew solemn, serious. It would have been a step too far to say that she stood to attention, being that it was only the two of them standing on the dusty rock with nobody to see or hear their exchange, but there was a change of posture, and in that moment, the assassin wearing dusty, field-worn gear was gone, replaced by an Imperial officer.

I will. pause Dismissed, Gaia? I should make myself scarce before Fel starts his walk back to the ship.

It took Galdaart a full five seconds before he realized he was gripping the handle of his blaster, and stiffly release the gun. If she could have seen his eyes... they were filled with loathing. He didn't wait for any further instructions or say-so, and moved purposefully past the goons and Gaia, and came to a stop beside Melia, not looking down at her. 

You coming?

And then he was off, moving across the dusty expanse in the direction of the ship, his slightly off-camber gait and land-sickness lending an oddity to his progress, as if he were perpetually about to change direction. He did not look back. There was space to cover and time was wasting. 

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Melia waited for Fel to pass, and watched as he departed. Rising, she nodded at Gaia before steeling herself for the trouble (either from Fel, or one of 10,000 outside sources that seemed to follow him) that was sure to come, and also departed, altering her trajectory slightly to retrieve her rifle and dustcloak. In doing so she fell astern on Galdaart by over 1000 yards. Once she had her gear, she doubled her pace, but knew that he would reach the ship first. Against her better judgement, she broke comms silence. 

Fel, wait. We need to talk. 

The reply was slow to arrive, and non-committal.

We do, huh? 

By the time she had nearly caught up to him, they were both within sight of the ship. The conversation had been pretty one-sided, consisting mostly of Melia saying 'Fel? Fel!' every couple of minutes while double-timing it. He had not replied. About fifty yards from the ship, he stopped, stooped and traced an index finger around the boot-print, followed it to the edge of his field of vision, stood and allowed the helmet's built-in macrobinocs to see how far the trail went. It disappeared over the crest of a hill. Not his boots. Not Mel's. He was considering the implications of this when she caught up with him, slightly winded. 

Hey... why didn't you answer my comms? no response, he still faced the hill, scanning the horizon. Fel? Won't you answer me? I don't know what you think you saw but-- 

He turned to face her, removed the helmet. His damp, lank hair clung to the nape of his neck, and sweat ran down his cheek. His breath came raggedly, labored, wheezing. 

I saw you bowing to Gaia. she opened her mouth as if to raise an objection, but he carried right on over her. No. I know a submissive stance when I see one. She didn't punch you in the gut and double you over. She didn't hold you to task or break your spirit. I've seen people pledge their allegiance before, I've done it myself. And that's what I saw. You wanna deny it?

Her mouth worked, and she considered feeding him a line, but instead she cast her eyes to the ground. Gaia was good. This allowed her to lower herself in Galdaart's eyes, which would place her in a good position to earn back his trust. It would be tough going for a while, but it was ultimately where she needed to be. She mumbled her reply. 

Don't mean nothin.'  They've got me over a barrel too, y'know. I don't have a choice, or they take everything from me, too. 

He watched her, eyes smoldering as he took in her explanation, her plea. After a few more moments passed, and he knew there was nothing else to be said or done, he turned his back and walked toward the ship, punching in the codes that dropped the access ramp. She was left to ponder his reaction. 

You coming?

She moved after him, checking behind herself and scanning the horizon for any sign of Gaia's mercs. 

She knows we were here, you know. Sent her goons in... 

He punched the large 'ramp close & seal' button just inside the main compartment, and made straight for the cockpit. Powering up systems as he moved, he sat and swiveled the pilot's seat into position, and yanked hard on the yoke, pulling the VCX into a tight 180-degree turn only a few feet off the ground. Accelerating hard out of the canyon and toward Gaia's compound, he spoke almost under his breath as she stripped off her battle gear in the main compartment, aft of the flight deck. 

Yeah. I know. 

Gaia's people had been ready for their arrival. Fel had touched down evac-style, with little to no warning before their arrival, but Gaia's people had the four crates of goods ready, and when the dust cleared from spinning the engines down to an idle, the crates and a small detachment of slaves were less than a dozen paces from the bow of the craft. Fel walked aft, and punched the hatch release, walking calmly down the ramp as it hit the ground. Melia looked on from the top of the ramp, E-11 in hand. Motioning to the slaves, he beckoned them forward. 

Bring 'em in here.