She left the bar with a buzz she hadn't been able to enjoy in three standard months. Focused on Gamon's case - alternating an inner dialogue of 'I need this' and 'I really need this'. The pay would help her even out Kharma - the ship needing a good two weeks in dry dock. Air it out. Overhaul the sub-light engines. CO2 scrubber leak. Her AI, Flask, needed the latest soft upgrades. A right bath.
She wobbled out into the S'G'en hallway, ticking off the myriad lists rolling in her head. She had the money now so the list rolled off her brain like a dumpling on a tongue.
"---?" She paused at her name being said in such an official tone. Her blood instantly chilled because, in her experience, that typically was not a positive sign. She had to focus to see the four figures in front of her. Possibly two behind her. *Station security?
"Don't understand you." She took in a deep breath and instinctively squared up. She saw two of the figures square up as well. There was a good half-second of actual effort in thinking she could take them on. 'No way stupid.' She put her arms out slightly from her body, but stopped short of making it look like she was guilty. Not that she was, at least what they thought she may have been guilty of.
"May we please relieve you of your weapon?" *Definitely S'G'en security. Very proper.
"You may not relieve me of my weapon unless you can dignify the request with the...the..." The Hausenfleur came up in a small pop. "...appropriate and legal..." The one figure, very dignified, stood forward.
"---, we have the Sartorial Minister of the Fersion here that has offered evidence that you have a crime of material omission against crimes not only in the Fersion Sector but minor crimes in the Verse. It is because of this..." He went on. She weighed options. Too many guards. A S'G'En station. A right proper Chief. All not in her favor.
"Ok. Ok. I hear you." She slowly raised her hands above her hand and landed the tips of her thumbs together. Imperceptibly, she tapped a small button hidden underneath the flap of her fingerless gloves. *Please let the AI know to call Toddy. "You may take my weapon, but you are doing it only based upon your evidence and I do this NOT to qualify your charges but upon my free will. I ask that the S'G'En further recognize this is not an admission of guilt."
"We do. Thank you for your compliance." The Security Chief stood back and allowed the two guards behind her to remove the weapon. They brought out binders, but the Chief waved them off to the dismay of the Fersion Minister.
"Now I ask that we go discuss this discretely - as an esteemed member of the Brueger Freepilots, I ask that we do this with dignity and respect." She could hear the Fersion Minister scoff, its tentacles clutching together to the sound of little flaps. The Chief looked down on the sign of disrespect and smiled warmly to her. "Of course. I assure we only want to get to the bottom of the matter."
"I would like a witness."
The Chief nodded and one of the four strode forward. "I am not an unclothed citizen of the S'G'En asked to help witness the matter. I am Farthou."
"Farthou - please witness my compliance and that I am willfully inebriated."
"I witness."
"Witness to that I would like to make a call before we proceed with any questioning as is my right."
Farthou looked over at the Chief, the latter nodding. Their blue skin dry as a bone. *Well, they aren't outwardly lying.
As they walked the Fersion couldn't speak to her, Starports would not allow for it. It instead spoke to the Chief. "May we please ask her who she was in contact with? Time is of the evidence." The Chief did not acknowledge him and they strode on.
...
It had her name there, on his primary screen. Shaun scowled at it. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen cabinets cursing the day he met her. *What's this now?
'She's in trouble. That's the only reason. And why should I care? She's not done one bloody thing for me...ever. She's only given ME trouble.' The intrigue is what calls him. Almost a standard year and she doesn't even send a status - his heart was broken, then the anger, then the resolve, then the dull reasoning required to get over it. Then, all over again. He knew the ultimate question, he's done this four...five times now? The question, "Is it worth it for her to be in trouble when I can do something?' He resented the question more than anything else.
He begrudgingly qualified his jacking into the net, 'The last f-cking time. The last f-cking time.'
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