- Joined
- Feb 11, 2009
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"I'm going to ask a question. Answer if you can."
Rourke leaned forward and rested his elbows atop his knees. He buried his face in his hands, folded his ears back, gritted his teeth. His stomach tied up in knots and sank, his throat tightened. He felt anger. Fear. Desperation.
"What is the price of a life?"
The man opposite the table grinned, his gold tooth glinting in the office's dim light. He was well-dressed with a charcoal suit cut in an old coruscanti style. The businessman's gray hair was slicked back, and circle-framed spectacles rested on his narrow nose. His eyes were close-set, dark, his face thin. Wiry - that described him best. A small man, yet bestowed of great power. He was a doctor. Doctor Oros Chern. Mei, Rourke's little sister, had enjoyed his tender hospitality for over a month.
"I can tell you, if you'd like. A hundred thousand credits. A tenth of a million."
A twisted little smile curled his lips as Rourke's shoulders hitched, then sank in defeat. The Kushari was well-dressed. A blazer and black slacks, dress shoes and a red tie. A fine-pressed white shirt, leather suspenders. A little pendant was hidden under his shirt, and a weathered steel ring on his left ring finger. Rourke slowly sat upright, then leaned back in his seat and stared at Chern.
"Oh, don't be a melancholy man, Mister Rourke. You know how this ends."
Kelden's eyes watched as a slip of paper, a form, was turned towards him and slid across the desk. He reluctantly pulled it down into his lap and skimmed it.
"Pay today, or I do what I must to make sure her stay remains profitable."
Slavery. That's what the man intended to do to Mei. He'd sell her to the highest bidder. Chern would make sure she was a pleasure girl by the end of the week. Kelden put his tongue in his cheek and crumpled the paper up into a little ball, which he tossed between his hands.
"Doc," Rourke said softly, "You know my pockets aren't that deep. What do you really want?"
Chern chortled merrily and held his palms up. "Don't be so narrow-minded, lad, hard credits aren't the only currency in the 'verse! You've got something else I might, just might, trade the young Miss Rourke for."
It clicked. Kelden frowned and rose from the chair. "You want the slaves I took from the Tyguff Syndicate." He scowled. "How'd you find out about that? It wasn't even in this sector."
"Mister Rourke, oh, Mister Rourke - let's focus on our little transaction, shall we?"
Rourke had stepped behind his chair, and leaned on the hand-carved back. His fingers tapped against the old wood, and he dropped the crumpled form into the seat. "I'll sell the ship. I'll get you your money."
Chern laughed. It was a hollow, bitter sound, holding only sadistic glee. "I think it's too late for credits now. That'd be far too easy! No, no, I think I'd rather make you choose - who'll it be, Mister Rourke? Two hundred tiny, insignificant lives, or a single bright one?"
The Kushari didn't answer. He half-turned and started for the door. "I'll think on it," he muttered, "And I'll be back with your answer tonight. If Mei's hurt in any way, or she's gone from here, I'll kill you."
Doctor Oros Chern cackled and slapped his desk. "Don't make me wait, lest I seek your sister's... Pleasurably company! I'd hate for her to suffer for your tardiness, my friend."
He ignored the taunt and left. His tail flicked violently, his limbs shook with scarcely controlled rage. It was tempting, so tempting, to draw his pistol and end Chern's existence. It was only Mei's safety that prevented him from turning murderous. She was in his custody. If he died, she'd be sold off or worse in a matter of hours. Far faster than he could save her. The walk back to his ship gave him plenty of time to think. The only way he had to guarantee her safety was to trade the slaves. Every last one would have to go to Chern. He couldn't save them and his sister. Not on his own.
Phoenix's ramp lowered as he approached. It was parked in a dusty, garbage-choked shithole that passed for a shuttle bay on Nar Shadda. Phoenix's gleaming white hull and black belly stuck out against the filth and gray of the city it was stuck inside. Soft light streamed out of the ship's bay and illuminated the swirling dust and debris and the cascading rain enveloping the ship. The bay had no roof - it barely even had walls. Primitive chain-link fencing was all that kept the ship safe from common folk wandering the pads. Kelden ran his paws back through his mane and slicked the soaking-wet mass of fur back.
There was a storm coming down outside. It only made the world all the more miserable.
He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over one of the two hundred cryopods laying head-to-toe in his bay. He brushed off the pod's window and stared at the young boy inside. He couldn't have been any older than fourteen. A low huff rolled off his lips and he hung his head.
"I can't do it," he muttered quietly. His hands clenched and claws dug furrows into the pod's surface. He wanted so badly to strike out, to hit something, to hurt someone. But there was nothing to hit. No other options. Two hundred lives - he could save them. He couldn't gamble them away to save Mei, no matter how precious she was. Defeated, the cat half-turned and slumped down against the pod. He stared up at the ceiling. "It'd have been nice, god, if you'd taken my side. Just this once."
Rourke leaned forward and rested his elbows atop his knees. He buried his face in his hands, folded his ears back, gritted his teeth. His stomach tied up in knots and sank, his throat tightened. He felt anger. Fear. Desperation.
"What is the price of a life?"
The man opposite the table grinned, his gold tooth glinting in the office's dim light. He was well-dressed with a charcoal suit cut in an old coruscanti style. The businessman's gray hair was slicked back, and circle-framed spectacles rested on his narrow nose. His eyes were close-set, dark, his face thin. Wiry - that described him best. A small man, yet bestowed of great power. He was a doctor. Doctor Oros Chern. Mei, Rourke's little sister, had enjoyed his tender hospitality for over a month.
"I can tell you, if you'd like. A hundred thousand credits. A tenth of a million."
A twisted little smile curled his lips as Rourke's shoulders hitched, then sank in defeat. The Kushari was well-dressed. A blazer and black slacks, dress shoes and a red tie. A fine-pressed white shirt, leather suspenders. A little pendant was hidden under his shirt, and a weathered steel ring on his left ring finger. Rourke slowly sat upright, then leaned back in his seat and stared at Chern.
"Oh, don't be a melancholy man, Mister Rourke. You know how this ends."
Kelden's eyes watched as a slip of paper, a form, was turned towards him and slid across the desk. He reluctantly pulled it down into his lap and skimmed it.
"Pay today, or I do what I must to make sure her stay remains profitable."
Slavery. That's what the man intended to do to Mei. He'd sell her to the highest bidder. Chern would make sure she was a pleasure girl by the end of the week. Kelden put his tongue in his cheek and crumpled the paper up into a little ball, which he tossed between his hands.
"Doc," Rourke said softly, "You know my pockets aren't that deep. What do you really want?"
Chern chortled merrily and held his palms up. "Don't be so narrow-minded, lad, hard credits aren't the only currency in the 'verse! You've got something else I might, just might, trade the young Miss Rourke for."
It clicked. Kelden frowned and rose from the chair. "You want the slaves I took from the Tyguff Syndicate." He scowled. "How'd you find out about that? It wasn't even in this sector."
"Mister Rourke, oh, Mister Rourke - let's focus on our little transaction, shall we?"
Rourke had stepped behind his chair, and leaned on the hand-carved back. His fingers tapped against the old wood, and he dropped the crumpled form into the seat. "I'll sell the ship. I'll get you your money."
Chern laughed. It was a hollow, bitter sound, holding only sadistic glee. "I think it's too late for credits now. That'd be far too easy! No, no, I think I'd rather make you choose - who'll it be, Mister Rourke? Two hundred tiny, insignificant lives, or a single bright one?"
The Kushari didn't answer. He half-turned and started for the door. "I'll think on it," he muttered, "And I'll be back with your answer tonight. If Mei's hurt in any way, or she's gone from here, I'll kill you."
Doctor Oros Chern cackled and slapped his desk. "Don't make me wait, lest I seek your sister's... Pleasurably company! I'd hate for her to suffer for your tardiness, my friend."
He ignored the taunt and left. His tail flicked violently, his limbs shook with scarcely controlled rage. It was tempting, so tempting, to draw his pistol and end Chern's existence. It was only Mei's safety that prevented him from turning murderous. She was in his custody. If he died, she'd be sold off or worse in a matter of hours. Far faster than he could save her. The walk back to his ship gave him plenty of time to think. The only way he had to guarantee her safety was to trade the slaves. Every last one would have to go to Chern. He couldn't save them and his sister. Not on his own.
Phoenix's ramp lowered as he approached. It was parked in a dusty, garbage-choked shithole that passed for a shuttle bay on Nar Shadda. Phoenix's gleaming white hull and black belly stuck out against the filth and gray of the city it was stuck inside. Soft light streamed out of the ship's bay and illuminated the swirling dust and debris and the cascading rain enveloping the ship. The bay had no roof - it barely even had walls. Primitive chain-link fencing was all that kept the ship safe from common folk wandering the pads. Kelden ran his paws back through his mane and slicked the soaking-wet mass of fur back.
There was a storm coming down outside. It only made the world all the more miserable.
He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over one of the two hundred cryopods laying head-to-toe in his bay. He brushed off the pod's window and stared at the young boy inside. He couldn't have been any older than fourteen. A low huff rolled off his lips and he hung his head.
"I can't do it," he muttered quietly. His hands clenched and claws dug furrows into the pod's surface. He wanted so badly to strike out, to hit something, to hurt someone. But there was nothing to hit. No other options. Two hundred lives - he could save them. He couldn't gamble them away to save Mei, no matter how precious she was. Defeated, the cat half-turned and slumped down against the pod. He stared up at the ceiling. "It'd have been nice, god, if you'd taken my side. Just this once."