Freedom.
The great lie. The grand unobtainable idea. The dream sold to the downtrodden by the bastards who really ran the galaxy.
The one thing Crix wanted more than anything else.
“Let’s move, this is done,” Crow said, wiping blood from his vibroknife.
“Aye boss,” said Trix, a scraggly weequay assigned by the powers that be to watch The Devil of Denon’s every move.
Crix stowed the weapon and pulled out a ratty pack of cigarras. He lit one up while examining his handy work. It made him sick. He couldn’t even remember who this was or why they needed to die. Not that it mattered.
He was a dog, not a master.
“Oy, looks like the next one is on Omega Station, your old stomping grounds, no?”
Crow looked at the Weequay but didn’t say anything.
Trix’s expression was a pointed sneer. He was always poking, always prodding, always temptempting Crix to come at him. That was his job after all. Keep Crix in line or kill him. Crow could remember when his ambition had burned as bright as the man following him. All that had manifested from the fire of his revenge was failure and disappointment. Crow found he wished Trix the same.
Some time later…
Crow and Trix sat in a booth across from one another. Trix’s shit eating perma-grin rested in it’s usual place.
Crow blew out a plume of smoke, “So, you gonna give me what I need or are we on a fucking date?”
Trix held his hands up in a mocking surrender, “I was just waiting for the right time…”
“Quit fucking with me, Trix, I’m not in the mood.”
“You never are…” complained the Weequay.
Crow ground his teeth, knuckles going white on the butt of his blaster hidden just under the table. Before Dolan could add anything, Trix said, “Our mark is Terra Landris.”
The words hit Crow like a bucket of cold water to the face, but he knew better than to react. That niggling smile on The Weequay’s face spread into a contemptuous sneer.
“Think you can do it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t,” Crow replied.
“Good, I’ll follow. You know this place better than me anyway, don’t ya Devil.”
Crow didn’t respond. He just got up and made for the door, The Weequay hot on his heels, running that flapping gab of a mouth the whole way. Inside, Crix was desperately trying to find a way out of this… but he wasn’t coming up with anything other than the obvious…
@Phoenix
The great lie. The grand unobtainable idea. The dream sold to the downtrodden by the bastards who really ran the galaxy.
The one thing Crix wanted more than anything else.
“Let’s move, this is done,” Crow said, wiping blood from his vibroknife.
“Aye boss,” said Trix, a scraggly weequay assigned by the powers that be to watch The Devil of Denon’s every move.
Crix stowed the weapon and pulled out a ratty pack of cigarras. He lit one up while examining his handy work. It made him sick. He couldn’t even remember who this was or why they needed to die. Not that it mattered.
He was a dog, not a master.
“Oy, looks like the next one is on Omega Station, your old stomping grounds, no?”
Crow looked at the Weequay but didn’t say anything.
Trix’s expression was a pointed sneer. He was always poking, always prodding, always temptempting Crix to come at him. That was his job after all. Keep Crix in line or kill him. Crow could remember when his ambition had burned as bright as the man following him. All that had manifested from the fire of his revenge was failure and disappointment. Crow found he wished Trix the same.
Some time later…
Crow and Trix sat in a booth across from one another. Trix’s shit eating perma-grin rested in it’s usual place.
Crow blew out a plume of smoke, “So, you gonna give me what I need or are we on a fucking date?”
Trix held his hands up in a mocking surrender, “I was just waiting for the right time…”
“Quit fucking with me, Trix, I’m not in the mood.”
“You never are…” complained the Weequay.
Crow ground his teeth, knuckles going white on the butt of his blaster hidden just under the table. Before Dolan could add anything, Trix said, “Our mark is Terra Landris.”
The words hit Crow like a bucket of cold water to the face, but he knew better than to react. That niggling smile on The Weequay’s face spread into a contemptuous sneer.
“Think you can do it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t,” Crow replied.
“Good, I’ll follow. You know this place better than me anyway, don’t ya Devil.”
Crow didn’t respond. He just got up and made for the door, The Weequay hot on his heels, running that flapping gab of a mouth the whole way. Inside, Crix was desperately trying to find a way out of this… but he wasn’t coming up with anything other than the obvious…
@Phoenix