jeriendhal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jeriendhal) wrote2008-08-07 01:36 pm
jeriendhal) wrote2008-08-07 01:36 pm
Fic: Captive of the Red Vixen, Part Twelve
Poor Rolas. Poor, terribly confused Rolas...
Upon landing, the cargo shuttle started disgorging magnetic fusion rings, drive crystals and other valuable bits that the Red Vixen had stolen from the Sallivera. Lt. Zan, who had piloted the shuttle down, went to work transferring the cargo to a groundside warehouse while his captain led Rolas to the tube station to head into the local Startown adjacent to the port. Like its brethren on similar worlds that dealt with pirates, it was a place nominally under the control of the planet’s government, but for all practical purposes an independent entity. So while it probably would have been amusing to start screaming bloody murder as soon as they disembarked from the shuttle, the Red Vixen’s preparations guaranteed that his protests would likely be ignored.
“So where are we going, anyway?” he asked, the first time that he had spoken to her since the shuttle had landed. He did his best to ignore the occasional stare they received in the monorail car for their outrageous attire.
“Oh, just to a little club to chat with some contacts,” the Red Vixen told him. “Don’t worry, it’s a private place, so all you have to do is loom up behind me and look decorative.”
“Looking for a good buyer for my ship’s cargo?”
“Naturally,” she said. If there was any hint of guilt in her eyes for taking his family’s profits away this time, she managed to hide it well. The train came to a halt and he followed her out of the tube station onto a busy street, trying to ignore the occasional sticky substance that attempted to cling to the bottom of his footpads. She led him to an unmarked door, pressing a passcard she pulled from a pouch at her belt to a reader. The door trundled back and they walked upstairs to the top floor of a three story building. What had once been undoubtedly an apartment for the owners of the business at street level had since then had all of its interior walls torn out to form a space for a small stage, a dancing floor, and a few tables near a bar. On the stage a very bored young creo dancer, dressed almost as scantily as his captor, was being ignored by the early evening crowd, while music pounded just below the level of making conversation impossible.
“Evening, Thomas!” the Red Vixen called out to the bartender, “is Mickey about?”
The bartender nodded and pointed to a corner of the room, where a slim galen male in casual dress was leaning back in a chair, observing the dancer. The Vixen ordered a starshine for herself and carried over to Mickey, who looked up when she approached and smiled.
“Hello, Red,” the galen male said, accepting the drink, “you always know the best presents to bring.”
“I always like to try and get you liquored up before starting negotiations, Mickey,” she replied, sliding into the seat across from him. Rolas took up a proper bodyguard stance at her shoulder, at an angle that let him observe the bar’s entrance.
Mickey laughed at her joke and motioned towards Rolas with his glass, “Who’s your minder there?”
“Oh, this is Rollie. He’s a recent acquisition.” She reached over and casually stroked his chest, and he fought to control the shiver that went through his body.
“Is he for sale? I could get you good money for a healthy vulpine.” At her rapidly cooling expression, he raised a palm in supplication. “A joke, Red. I know your peculiarities.”
“Just so,” she said, letting the faux paux pass. “Anyway, I have more profitable items to sell than flesh.”
“Like what?”
“Fusion magnets, drive crystals, dust jacket generators, just name a few things. Here are the specific models.” She passed over a datapad with a scrolling inventory.
“Hmm, a very nice haul indeed,” Mickey said, pursing his lips. “I’m sure I can make an offer you’d like. I’d have to inspect your goods first hand though, same as always.”
“Naturally,” she agreed. “We’re storing it all at warehouse number 43 at the port facility."
"I'll swing by to take a look tomorrow morning." Mickey glanced over to door. Rolas followed his gaze. A bulky, bald human with a face that made him look like he rammed his head into walls for a hobby was entering, followed by three bravos who looked dressed for a fight. "Oh, and it was such a pleasant evening," the galen muttered.
The Red Vixen let a short, curt, very human curse word. “I didn’t know the Celestial Marauder was in orbit.”
“It’s not,” Mickey said. “Mavra must have sent him to check on her businesses.”
“Mavra? He’s one of her people?” Rolas asked.
“The first mate of her flagship,” the Red Vixen told him. “But this planet is outside of her territory.”
“Not anymore, it seems.” Mickey motioned with his glass towards the bar, where Brooks was leaning over towards Thomas and rubbing his finger and thumb together. The bartender nodded in what seemed like reluctant assent, and the ugly human turned away from him, apparently satisfied. Then he looked over to Mickey’s corner and smiled unpleasantly. Rolas felt himself tense up, then tried to will himself to relax. What did he care about confrontations between two pirates?
“’ello, Red. Fancy meetin’ you here,” Brooks said, resting a hand on the table to lean over and leer at the Red Vixen. “What are y’ doin’ in Lady Mavra’s territory now?”
“T’lesha is an unaligned world, and outside the League of Pirate Warlord’s sphere of interest, Mr. Brooks,” she answered coolly. “I was just dropping off some cargo.”
“Oh, is it now? I guess yer behind on the news. Lady Mavra is expandin’ her turf. This world is hers now. So everybody in the startown is gonna have t’ give a cut to her. Now.” He turned his attention to Mickey. “That goes for fixers like you too, Mick. As a matter a fact, why don’t ya pay up right away, and save my boys from havin’ to visit ya later?”
“I’ve entered no contractual agreement with the lovely Red here yet, Mr. Brooks,” Mickey demurred. “I can hardly pay you when no money has changed hands.”
“Fair enough.” He turned back to the Red Vixen, who spared an annoyed glance at the galen man before focusing on Brooks. “I’m told ya got a warehouse of goods yer filling up. Got a nice haul recently?”
“I’m likely to make a reasonable profit, yes,” she replied. She was leaning back casually in her chair, but Rolas could smell the tension rising from her, even though her normally suffocating perfume.
“Good, then you won’t mind handin’ Lady Mavra her fair share, seeing ya decided to bring it t’ one of her worlds.”
“You’re out of line, Mr. Brooks. Poaching another pirate’s haul is against the League of Warlords blood oath.”
“Oh, that’d mean somethin’ if y’d ever taken the oath yerself, Red.” Brooks rested a hand on his sidearm, a plasma pistol that looked well-worn from use, while his trio of bravos gave them all unpleasant smiles to match their leader’s. “But since ya haven’t, then its all Lady Mavra’s t’ take, if she wants. In fact, I think she will.”
The smile dropped from her face. “It’s my bloody cargo, I’ll do what I want with it.”
Brooks unbuckled the holster of his pistol, and Rolas found himself dearly wishing that his own weapon had a charge. “I think Lady Mavra don’t agree.”
“I think unless you’re a telepath, you’re just really overreaching yourself,” the Red Vixen said coldly. She stood up smoothly and gave Mickey a short bow. “I do hope to see you sometime tomorrow, dear. Come along, Rollie.” She dodged around Brooks, who made a grab for her arm. Reflexively, Rolas intercepted it, grabbing the ugly human’s wrist and digging his claws in to keep hold. Then, while Brooks was letting out a loud curse of pain, Rolas shoved him into one of the bravos, while the Red Vixen expertly kicked a second one in the knee, dropping him to the floor.
“Run!” she shouted, and Rolas followed as she dashed towards the stairwell. A streak of plasma, probably from Bravo Number Three, struck the wall next to the stairs, and Rolas felt the wave of heat from the near miss as the cheap microboard paneling caught fire and the fire alarm began to blare. He heard an inarticulate shout of rage and booted feet pounding on the stairs behind them as they burst outside and the Red Vixen turned and dashed down the street.
“The tube station is in the other direction!” he shouted.
“I’m not going to get trapped in an enclosed area with Brutal Brooks at my heels,” she shot back over her shoulder. “Brilliant move, grabbing the bastard like that by the way. I do not need Bloody Chan as my enemy, thank you!” Another shot flashed passed them, making the crowd on the sidewalks scream and scatter. She dodged into an alley and Rolas, obligated by the ring on her finger and the other around his neck, followed. It was a dead end, and half of that filled with a large waste bin.
“Wrong way!” Rolas cried out. He stepped back onto the sidewalk, only to duck as Brooks, only about 5 meters away, fired wildly at him. He dodged back into the alley, joining the Red Vixen behind the limited cover of the waste bin. “What was that about being trapped?”
“Shut up!” She pulled a comset out of her pouch and slipped it into her ear, as plasma bolts splashed against the thin metal of the bin, melting the steel. It wouldn’t be much longer before they blew through bin’s opposite wall and fried both himself and his captor. “Xan! This is your captain speaking. I’m in a spot of trouble involving some of Mavra Chan’s bully boys. I need assistance, now.” She leaned out and snapped off a buzzing shot with her stunner, pulling back quickly as a plasma bolt struck the ferrocrete wall of the building behind them that blocked their escape. “Xan is tracking my comset, he should be here in five minutes.”
“In five minutes we’ll be dead!” A plasma blot struck into center of the waste bin and the garbage began to burn, filling the alley with choking, filthy smoke.
“Well, you could start shooting back!”
He pulled his stunner out and waved it at her. “It’s got no charge, remember?”
“Yes it does!” At his incredulous look she rolled her eyes. “I’m a pirate, I lied!”
“Goddess bless,” he cursed, then clambered up the side of the waste bin, flicking back the safety and activating the laser sight. Through the smoke he could see two dim figures coming up the alley, hugging the walls. He snapped off a shot and the first one dropped, while the second let out a yell and started running forward. The attacker fired in the direction of Rolas, the line of the targeting laser acting to bracket his position. He dropped back down under cover barely in time, feeling the tips of his ears sizzle as the plasma bolt passed through where his head had been a second before. The Red Vixen then shot the bravo point blank in the chest as he came around the corner of the bin.
“That was foolish,” she noted, then coughed as the smoke began to thicken.
“Not really,” Rolas countered. “They charge us, the worst that will happen is that they’re stunned. We charge them, we die.” He coughed himself, tasting something horrible in the back of his throat from the burning garbage as his eyes began to water. “Of course we’ll die anyway from smoke inhalation in a few minutes.”
“Maybe not.” In the distance, the whoop-whoop sound of an emergency services truck began grow in volume. While it seemed the local constables kept a distance from the area, the same wouldn’t hold true for the local fire company. “They’re going to have to run now. Even Brutal Brooks would have trouble talking Civil Protection into ignoring this incident.” She leaned out carefully, weapon in front of her, trying to see if their enemy had fled.
And for that brief moment, Rolas had a weapon in his hand, with his captor’s back turned towards him. In wouldn’t take more than a second for him to fire, then pull the ring from her hand. He’d have a chance to explain his story to the fire fighters, perhaps even get a call in to this planet’s Vulpine consulate before she woke up and started making claims about him being her indentured servant.
“I think they’re gone,” she said, turning around to find his weapon pointed at her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing, keeping the muzzle of her stunner pointed towards the ground.
For a long moment, Rolas stared, her image blurring in his eyes from the smoke. Then he set the safety back on his pistol, popped the power unit out from the butt and handed it over to her. She took it from him silently, slipping the small black cube into her pouch as he holstered his weapon. Then they walked together out of the alley, towards the approaching firefighters.
“Thank you,” she said, as the firefighters rushed past.
“I don’t shoot vixens in the back,” he said simply. “Why did you trust me with a charged weapon?”
“Because I thought I could,” she answered. She looked over to where an approaching ground transport came screeching to a halt, disgorging Lt. Zan and several of her crew. “Come along, I have to find out what happened to my actual bodyguard. He was supposed to be minding the outer perimeter.”
“What about the inner perimeter?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “I think you did well enough.”
TBC
Upon landing, the cargo shuttle started disgorging magnetic fusion rings, drive crystals and other valuable bits that the Red Vixen had stolen from the Sallivera. Lt. Zan, who had piloted the shuttle down, went to work transferring the cargo to a groundside warehouse while his captain led Rolas to the tube station to head into the local Startown adjacent to the port. Like its brethren on similar worlds that dealt with pirates, it was a place nominally under the control of the planet’s government, but for all practical purposes an independent entity. So while it probably would have been amusing to start screaming bloody murder as soon as they disembarked from the shuttle, the Red Vixen’s preparations guaranteed that his protests would likely be ignored.
“So where are we going, anyway?” he asked, the first time that he had spoken to her since the shuttle had landed. He did his best to ignore the occasional stare they received in the monorail car for their outrageous attire.
“Oh, just to a little club to chat with some contacts,” the Red Vixen told him. “Don’t worry, it’s a private place, so all you have to do is loom up behind me and look decorative.”
“Looking for a good buyer for my ship’s cargo?”
“Naturally,” she said. If there was any hint of guilt in her eyes for taking his family’s profits away this time, she managed to hide it well. The train came to a halt and he followed her out of the tube station onto a busy street, trying to ignore the occasional sticky substance that attempted to cling to the bottom of his footpads. She led him to an unmarked door, pressing a passcard she pulled from a pouch at her belt to a reader. The door trundled back and they walked upstairs to the top floor of a three story building. What had once been undoubtedly an apartment for the owners of the business at street level had since then had all of its interior walls torn out to form a space for a small stage, a dancing floor, and a few tables near a bar. On the stage a very bored young creo dancer, dressed almost as scantily as his captor, was being ignored by the early evening crowd, while music pounded just below the level of making conversation impossible.
“Evening, Thomas!” the Red Vixen called out to the bartender, “is Mickey about?”
The bartender nodded and pointed to a corner of the room, where a slim galen male in casual dress was leaning back in a chair, observing the dancer. The Vixen ordered a starshine for herself and carried over to Mickey, who looked up when she approached and smiled.
“Hello, Red,” the galen male said, accepting the drink, “you always know the best presents to bring.”
“I always like to try and get you liquored up before starting negotiations, Mickey,” she replied, sliding into the seat across from him. Rolas took up a proper bodyguard stance at her shoulder, at an angle that let him observe the bar’s entrance.
Mickey laughed at her joke and motioned towards Rolas with his glass, “Who’s your minder there?”
“Oh, this is Rollie. He’s a recent acquisition.” She reached over and casually stroked his chest, and he fought to control the shiver that went through his body.
“Is he for sale? I could get you good money for a healthy vulpine.” At her rapidly cooling expression, he raised a palm in supplication. “A joke, Red. I know your peculiarities.”
“Just so,” she said, letting the faux paux pass. “Anyway, I have more profitable items to sell than flesh.”
“Like what?”
“Fusion magnets, drive crystals, dust jacket generators, just name a few things. Here are the specific models.” She passed over a datapad with a scrolling inventory.
“Hmm, a very nice haul indeed,” Mickey said, pursing his lips. “I’m sure I can make an offer you’d like. I’d have to inspect your goods first hand though, same as always.”
“Naturally,” she agreed. “We’re storing it all at warehouse number 43 at the port facility."
"I'll swing by to take a look tomorrow morning." Mickey glanced over to door. Rolas followed his gaze. A bulky, bald human with a face that made him look like he rammed his head into walls for a hobby was entering, followed by three bravos who looked dressed for a fight. "Oh, and it was such a pleasant evening," the galen muttered.
The Red Vixen let a short, curt, very human curse word. “I didn’t know the Celestial Marauder was in orbit.”
“It’s not,” Mickey said. “Mavra must have sent him to check on her businesses.”
“Mavra? He’s one of her people?” Rolas asked.
“The first mate of her flagship,” the Red Vixen told him. “But this planet is outside of her territory.”
“Not anymore, it seems.” Mickey motioned with his glass towards the bar, where Brooks was leaning over towards Thomas and rubbing his finger and thumb together. The bartender nodded in what seemed like reluctant assent, and the ugly human turned away from him, apparently satisfied. Then he looked over to Mickey’s corner and smiled unpleasantly. Rolas felt himself tense up, then tried to will himself to relax. What did he care about confrontations between two pirates?
“’ello, Red. Fancy meetin’ you here,” Brooks said, resting a hand on the table to lean over and leer at the Red Vixen. “What are y’ doin’ in Lady Mavra’s territory now?”
“T’lesha is an unaligned world, and outside the League of Pirate Warlord’s sphere of interest, Mr. Brooks,” she answered coolly. “I was just dropping off some cargo.”
“Oh, is it now? I guess yer behind on the news. Lady Mavra is expandin’ her turf. This world is hers now. So everybody in the startown is gonna have t’ give a cut to her. Now.” He turned his attention to Mickey. “That goes for fixers like you too, Mick. As a matter a fact, why don’t ya pay up right away, and save my boys from havin’ to visit ya later?”
“I’ve entered no contractual agreement with the lovely Red here yet, Mr. Brooks,” Mickey demurred. “I can hardly pay you when no money has changed hands.”
“Fair enough.” He turned back to the Red Vixen, who spared an annoyed glance at the galen man before focusing on Brooks. “I’m told ya got a warehouse of goods yer filling up. Got a nice haul recently?”
“I’m likely to make a reasonable profit, yes,” she replied. She was leaning back casually in her chair, but Rolas could smell the tension rising from her, even though her normally suffocating perfume.
“Good, then you won’t mind handin’ Lady Mavra her fair share, seeing ya decided to bring it t’ one of her worlds.”
“You’re out of line, Mr. Brooks. Poaching another pirate’s haul is against the League of Warlords blood oath.”
“Oh, that’d mean somethin’ if y’d ever taken the oath yerself, Red.” Brooks rested a hand on his sidearm, a plasma pistol that looked well-worn from use, while his trio of bravos gave them all unpleasant smiles to match their leader’s. “But since ya haven’t, then its all Lady Mavra’s t’ take, if she wants. In fact, I think she will.”
The smile dropped from her face. “It’s my bloody cargo, I’ll do what I want with it.”
Brooks unbuckled the holster of his pistol, and Rolas found himself dearly wishing that his own weapon had a charge. “I think Lady Mavra don’t agree.”
“I think unless you’re a telepath, you’re just really overreaching yourself,” the Red Vixen said coldly. She stood up smoothly and gave Mickey a short bow. “I do hope to see you sometime tomorrow, dear. Come along, Rollie.” She dodged around Brooks, who made a grab for her arm. Reflexively, Rolas intercepted it, grabbing the ugly human’s wrist and digging his claws in to keep hold. Then, while Brooks was letting out a loud curse of pain, Rolas shoved him into one of the bravos, while the Red Vixen expertly kicked a second one in the knee, dropping him to the floor.
“Run!” she shouted, and Rolas followed as she dashed towards the stairwell. A streak of plasma, probably from Bravo Number Three, struck the wall next to the stairs, and Rolas felt the wave of heat from the near miss as the cheap microboard paneling caught fire and the fire alarm began to blare. He heard an inarticulate shout of rage and booted feet pounding on the stairs behind them as they burst outside and the Red Vixen turned and dashed down the street.
“The tube station is in the other direction!” he shouted.
“I’m not going to get trapped in an enclosed area with Brutal Brooks at my heels,” she shot back over her shoulder. “Brilliant move, grabbing the bastard like that by the way. I do not need Bloody Chan as my enemy, thank you!” Another shot flashed passed them, making the crowd on the sidewalks scream and scatter. She dodged into an alley and Rolas, obligated by the ring on her finger and the other around his neck, followed. It was a dead end, and half of that filled with a large waste bin.
“Wrong way!” Rolas cried out. He stepped back onto the sidewalk, only to duck as Brooks, only about 5 meters away, fired wildly at him. He dodged back into the alley, joining the Red Vixen behind the limited cover of the waste bin. “What was that about being trapped?”
“Shut up!” She pulled a comset out of her pouch and slipped it into her ear, as plasma bolts splashed against the thin metal of the bin, melting the steel. It wouldn’t be much longer before they blew through bin’s opposite wall and fried both himself and his captor. “Xan! This is your captain speaking. I’m in a spot of trouble involving some of Mavra Chan’s bully boys. I need assistance, now.” She leaned out and snapped off a buzzing shot with her stunner, pulling back quickly as a plasma bolt struck the ferrocrete wall of the building behind them that blocked their escape. “Xan is tracking my comset, he should be here in five minutes.”
“In five minutes we’ll be dead!” A plasma blot struck into center of the waste bin and the garbage began to burn, filling the alley with choking, filthy smoke.
“Well, you could start shooting back!”
He pulled his stunner out and waved it at her. “It’s got no charge, remember?”
“Yes it does!” At his incredulous look she rolled her eyes. “I’m a pirate, I lied!”
“Goddess bless,” he cursed, then clambered up the side of the waste bin, flicking back the safety and activating the laser sight. Through the smoke he could see two dim figures coming up the alley, hugging the walls. He snapped off a shot and the first one dropped, while the second let out a yell and started running forward. The attacker fired in the direction of Rolas, the line of the targeting laser acting to bracket his position. He dropped back down under cover barely in time, feeling the tips of his ears sizzle as the plasma bolt passed through where his head had been a second before. The Red Vixen then shot the bravo point blank in the chest as he came around the corner of the bin.
“That was foolish,” she noted, then coughed as the smoke began to thicken.
“Not really,” Rolas countered. “They charge us, the worst that will happen is that they’re stunned. We charge them, we die.” He coughed himself, tasting something horrible in the back of his throat from the burning garbage as his eyes began to water. “Of course we’ll die anyway from smoke inhalation in a few minutes.”
“Maybe not.” In the distance, the whoop-whoop sound of an emergency services truck began grow in volume. While it seemed the local constables kept a distance from the area, the same wouldn’t hold true for the local fire company. “They’re going to have to run now. Even Brutal Brooks would have trouble talking Civil Protection into ignoring this incident.” She leaned out carefully, weapon in front of her, trying to see if their enemy had fled.
And for that brief moment, Rolas had a weapon in his hand, with his captor’s back turned towards him. In wouldn’t take more than a second for him to fire, then pull the ring from her hand. He’d have a chance to explain his story to the fire fighters, perhaps even get a call in to this planet’s Vulpine consulate before she woke up and started making claims about him being her indentured servant.
“I think they’re gone,” she said, turning around to find his weapon pointed at her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing, keeping the muzzle of her stunner pointed towards the ground.
For a long moment, Rolas stared, her image blurring in his eyes from the smoke. Then he set the safety back on his pistol, popped the power unit out from the butt and handed it over to her. She took it from him silently, slipping the small black cube into her pouch as he holstered his weapon. Then they walked together out of the alley, towards the approaching firefighters.
“Thank you,” she said, as the firefighters rushed past.
“I don’t shoot vixens in the back,” he said simply. “Why did you trust me with a charged weapon?”
“Because I thought I could,” she answered. She looked over to where an approaching ground transport came screeching to a halt, disgorging Lt. Zan and several of her crew. “Come along, I have to find out what happened to my actual bodyguard. He was supposed to be minding the outer perimeter.”
“What about the inner perimeter?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “I think you did well enough.”
TBC
no subject
Well, good as always :)
but what is the name of that Lt.? Zan or Xan? or are they two different ones?
mjkj