Captive of the Red Vixen, Part Six

[jeriendhal]

In which Rolas gets served.



He heard a chime ringing out in the common room. Emerging to investigate, he discovered that it was coming from the cell door’s enunciator panel. Bemused, he killed the chime and asked, “Yes, what is it?”

“Dinner, sir.” The lock clicked and the door slid back, revealing a crewfolk in a chef’s apron with a cart laden with a baked kin goose, vegetables and an expensive wine, accompanied by an armed guard. The guard kept watch by the door while the cook laid out the spread on the dining table, setting two places with plates and silverware. He bowed wards the door and the Red Vixen entered, dressed in a red shimmer silk dress that clung to every curve of her body, a golden and bejeweled fur comb clipped between her ears.

“I thought I was supposed to get my meals from the autokitchen,” he said tartly.

“It’s your first night aboard my ship,” she replied, not acknowledging his tone. “I always try to give my guests a home cooked meal when they arrive and just before they leave.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. He sat down at the table and did not offer to help seat her.

She raised an eyebrow and sat herself, filling her plate and taking a sip of her wine before remarking, “You know, it is customary to at least attempt to make polite conversation at dinner.”

He swallowed a bite of goose, which he had to grudgingly admit was excellent, before remarking, “Were I with polite company, I would. You, Madame, are not welcome at my table.”

“I see. You know, this little trip would go much more pleasantly if you would at least make the effort to be pleasant."

"This little trip would be much more pleasant if you hadn't attacked my ship," he countered.

"We needn't have attacked at all if you'd simply heaved to and let us board," she pointed out. "We had superior acceleration and certainly superior weapons. Fleeing was pointless. Certainly fighting after our launch latched on and our boarders entered was useless."

"I was not about betray the honor of my house and the trust its people by giving up without a shot fired," he snarled.

"My boarders were wearing battle armor. You had no heavy weapons nor any chance of overcoming them," she shot back, her voice growing heated. "There is no honor lost in surrendering against such odds. If you had simply had the sense to give up, perhaps you Ensign Dewclaw would still be alive." Her muzzle snapped shut as he glared at her, evidently realizing she'd stepped over a line she shouldn't have crossed.

"Ensign Dewclaw was a loyal member of House Darktail," Rolas said slowly, deliberately, feeling his anger over the young male's death bubble through him. He was determined not to let it spill out though. He would need it later, he was sure of that. "If you had not attacked us, if you were not a dishonorable pirate, a thief stealing from the blood and sweat of others, he would be alive. His parents would not have to grieve for their lost cub."

"He died for your House's cargo. Things," she countered.

"No, he died for House Darktail's honor. That cargo meant more than mere material wealth for us."

"Oh, come now! It's not like you were carrying religious artifacts. Your hold held stardrive crystals, hypercom transmitters, fusion plant components. Expensive goods, and a hard loss for your insurance to recoup, but hardly worth dying over. You should count yourself lucky I was the one who found out about your little trip, rather than some of my colleagues."

Rolas' brow furrowed in surprise. "You knew of my ship's cargo?"

She nodded. "Why do you think we were there waiting for you when you dropped out of superluminal?"

"But... how? We were careful. All the cargo was purchased through intermediaries. Our public manifest stated we were carrying grain and fruits. How could you have...?" He sucked in a sharp breath. "We were betrayed!" It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," the Red Vixen answered simply, watching him.

His paw closed around his napkin, claws ripping through the linen. "Tell me who! I will kill them! I'll tear their throat open with my claws!"

"You do have a temper, Milord Rolas," she said mildly. "You must think me very foolish if you believe I would betray such a valuable contact. I might have use of them again."

"Not if I ever find out their name," he said. His eye flickered downward. There was a perfectly serviceable carving knife lying on the edge of the serving platter holding the kin goose, well in reach of his hand and on his side of the table. He could snatch it up in and instant and likely bring it to the Red Vixen's throat before she could unholster her stunner.

"I wouldn't," she said, her soft, honey sweet voice backed with steel, her bright eyes missing nothing. "I would make a poor hostage, that I guarantee."

"Perhaps I only seek vengeance. Have you thought of that?" he asked.

"And what honor would you find in that vengeance, in the murder of a vixen? We are not so far from civilized Vulpine Prime, that you would lower yourself to that extreme, I think."

Rolas felt his face flush with sudden shame. "Get out," he said, lowering his head, dropping his hands to his lap. "Please."

"We haven't finished our dinner," she pointed out.

"Just get out, please."

"As you wish, Lord Rolas." She stood up from the table, eyeing him with curiosity. "You are a puzzle, milord. I think I'm going to enjoy figuring you out." Then, thankfully, she left him to his cold food and crumbling honor.

TBC

Comments

[mjkj.livejournal.com]

hmmm, nice one :)

(yayyy update)

=)