A Break at a Bar

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet

She didn’t even know the name of the town- on her map, it was just a small circle with a check in the center.

On Ezra it wasn’t all that unusual to find wanderers- bums and swindlers- ambling from place to place without a care for where they were. Cassia, however, had lived on Ezra for several years, and thus found it more than a little embarrassing to not know where she was.

“Clear ‘cross the other side of the planet,” she mumbled under her breath, “Explains perfectly why I don’t have the foggiest of where I am.”She rubbed her hands together for warmth and adjusted her coat, pausing to look around. “Colder here, too.” 

A single building in the distance caught her eye. Cass frowned- a single building wasn’t exactly a positive sign. Granted, she was in the middle of nowhere, but she’d still expected a bit more in the way of civilization. Perhaps it hadn’t been the wisest choice to storm off, halfway across the planet. After all, Xue-Yin wasn’t the sort to chase after her- she’d wait for Cass to calm down and come back. And back where Xue lived, around actual civilization, finding a ship would likely be easier. Still, she’d heard a rumor that there might be a ship offering passage around Wet Rock, a town she’d never heard of before, and she’d jumped at the chance- particularly when the man had mentioned that they might also be taking on crew. There wasn’t any planet she particularly wanted to go to after all, so spending a decent space of time out in the black was starting to sound very appealing…

As she got closer, Cass realized with relief that there was in fact more than a single building. She simply hadn't seen the others from so far away, as they were smaller than the first building. Perhaps it was the town she had been looking for. Cass had hitched a ride with a wagon, but she'd decided a few miles back to drop off and walk the rest of the way. Walking wasn't the most exciting of activities, but sitting still on a wagon for hours was absolutely miserable. At least walking she was engaged in an activity, and got to move at her own pace. 

The not-so-lone building, Cass saw as she got closer, was a bar. Wonderful. She didn't particularly want a drink, but company wouldn't be bad. She'd been alone a while, hearing some voices would be nice. And besides, she needed to find out where she was. She was on unfamiliar grounds, and her map was a poor, hand-drawn depiction using landmarks. It made it difficult to know if she was anywhere near where she wanted to be. 

Stepping into the bar, Cass glanced around quickly, trying to size up the place and the patrons. The light was actually dimmer inside the bar than without, but it didn't take much light to realize the place wasn't near as full as she'd typically expect...

[Marcus O'Terra]

Wet Rock
May 19, 2517 – Ezra
3:54 P.M - Local Time
8:07 P.M – A.S.T

>:From Leads and Landings:<

Marcus had gotten a gist of Wet-Rock on the way to the bar, and had a decent lay of the land. A shoot out would be suicide. He'd be flanked in moments, and even if he took Burts down with the first shot. He'd be started a gun fight in the middle of a frontier town. There was no telling if the people would get out of the way or shoot him dead.

The way the people eyed him, he guessed it'd be the latter.

Ships comes in... I leave the bar. Wait for him to enter the bar. Move on the ship. Board, quietly. 

He inhaled. 

Deal with the crew (don't kill if I can). Release anyone on board. Maybe arm them. Wait for Burts to return to the ship. Threaten him. Offer his men a way out. Show one of living crew as sign of faith. Have the others take Burts guns.

He exhaled.

Shoot out Burt's shoulders, one or both. Capture Burts. Break his fingers. Break his toes. Take out one of his eyes. CRIPPLE HIM.

He inhaled, and then he exhaled. It was a plan. There would be blood. Likely his. But there had to be an end to this. To him, or Burts.

He was at the bar, not taking stock of the patrons or their looks at him. He didn't quite care at this moment. "Water." He said to the bar man. No sense getting drunk, and trip had dried him mouth a bit.

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet


Cassia wasn’t terribly fond of crowds, but a boisterous group would be preferable to the weird quiet that had fallen in the bar. There weren’t near enough people for the usual background noise. Not that she was paying particular attention to the people. Feeling thirsty from both the wagon trip and the walk, she’d asked for a drink- non alcoholic for now- and was thirstily making her way through it. Half-way down the glass, she happened to glance up, just in time to notice a man with messy hair entering the bar.

Usually, Cass wasn’t one to take notice of strangers. Unless there was something interesting about them, she’d wait for them to approach her. Though she was no social butterfly, when she was with people she knew Cass was often the certain of entertainment. The ‘center of attention’ would draw in a crowd, but Cass, with her sharp tongue and quick thinking, would be the one full of enough random trivia, useful information, and sarcastic remarks to keep them interested. Usually people sought her out, for guidance or simply from curiosity. But the minute Cass looked up at the man, she felt a familiar warmth surround her. Putting her drink down so she wouldn’t drop it, she kept her eyes locked on the man. The details of his appearance- he was only a few inches taller than her, young looking, and with a very noticeable gun strapped on his back- were noted but quickly discarded. Of far more interest was the growing feeling of heat. For an instant, Cass’ vision swam, and she saw- as usual too quickly to know if it was in her mind’s eye or a more literal ‘seeing’- an image float before her. A ring, not a physical ring of gold or other precious metals but the shape of a ring in a blur of blinding light. And surrounding the ring, yellow light shone steadily in all directions.

Then, as quickly as it had started, the vision faded. What on earth was that? I’ve never seen a symbol in a bright color- usually it’s a normal color, if there’s color at all. Whatever it is must cause light or have had light coming from it at the time when it was important…. It’s like a star, a piece of a burning star, when it goes bright for an instant before burning out. The side of her glass was beginning to bead with condensation, making her already-chilly hand uncomfortably cold. Cass let go of the glass, instinctively trying to tuck her hair behind her ears, but the strands were a bit too short to stay. As soon as she turned her head, they sprung out in all directions again. It didn’t feel any different from normal- it’s just an object, just like any other I might see, like a jar or a hand… Except for that light. The rest of it, the yellow background, was nothing special, but…. I can’t ask him right out, that’d be crazy. But the thought had planted itself in her mind- She needed to know who this man was. She wanted very badly to know what that light was. In unfamiliar territory, she didn’t have the guts to outright ask him “Hey, why do I see a brilliant circle of light about the size of a ring, hovering near you?”. But introducing herself? Well, maybe now was the time to get used to being the one to start introductions.

Finishing the rest of her drink, she slid the glass back to the barkeep with a nod and a smile, and headed over towards the newcomer. He was ordering water- sensible but unusual, considering the establishment they were in. Cass had never been much of a flirt, so she wouldn’t have offered to buy him a drink anyway, but once she reached him she realized she wasn’t exactly sure how she’d planned to start a conversation. Honesty, she decided,seems like the best policy. 

“You have the look of someone with a lot of stories to tell,” she said, perching precariously on the edge of the stool beside him. “How’d you end up way out here?”

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus hadn't been waiting on the water a minute when a voice crossed his ears, and it felt like it was addressed to him. He turned and saw a young woman, probably no older than he was. The way she was dressed, she was probably wearing her whole waredrobe on her, seemed like layers of coats. It gave a squared shape to her body that made it difficult to distinguish the curves of her body, if she had any.

All things considered, she stuck out like a sore thumb in the place. Her clothes were travel worn, but looking around she didn't fit in with any of the bars patrons.

Her questions registered in his head, and he laughed. "Everyone's got stories, Miss. Mine aren't for telling. Least not lightly." He sighed at the second question. "There's someone landing near here, soon." He immediately flinched at his mouth running off. "Probably best if you keep your head down when he shows up..." He noticed the barman look up. "Not expecting trouble here." He said in his most assuring tone, looking at the girl. "But he's not the sort of man who should be allowed around a young woman.... or any woman, for that matter"

All that was true enough. Burts was coming, the trouble would be on the ship, and everything after that was a true enough opinion of the man. More than one Doxy walked away with more bruises than coins after a time with him.

He took a long drink and set the glass down on the bar. He kept his hand on the glass as he turned to look the woman straight in the face. "Why do you ask, Miss?" He left the question open, as if to as her reason and her name.

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet


She’d passed so many people in similar coats, that at first, his hadn’t really caught her eye. Now, however, Cass noticed the man was wearing a coat that nearly certainly represented allegiance to the Independents. Having little knowledge of the conflict- or at least, most of what she knew she assumed to by mere myths or exaggerations- she generally tried to stay out of politics. Then again, perhaps that was a mistake here. She was clearly the one who didn’t blend. At first, she’d merely thrown a long sleeve shirt over her tank top, but that had been followed by a second shirt, then a light coat, then her leather jacket. It was too chilly outside not to dress warm.

Since she was inside now- and from the looks of it, going to stick around at least long enough for a discussion- she slid off her coats, taking off two of the layers before throwing the leather coat loosely on again. The beaten, well-worn weather rarely left her person. It was comfortably broken in, and one of her favorite pieces of clothes. With fewer layers under it, she looked less like a lump, and more like a human. Older, too, curiously enough- with such a young looking face, having her curves concealed by layers tended to make her seem much younger.

He seems friendly enough, she noted as he turned to her. Maybe not terribly open, but few are on this planet. She hadn’t expected an immediate life story, but for some reason, she had hoped for… something. 

A moment later, however, she got a bit more out of him. Perhaps in response to her obvious look of curiosity when he told her some stories shouldn’t be shared, he informed her that someone was coming- someone a young woman shouldn’t be around. A thousand possibilities floated around. Maybe someone who’d run off with his daughter? He hardly looked old enough to have a daugher who’d be of age to run off with some scoundrel, though. A sister maybe? Or simply someone crude or ill-tempered. Cass had met plenty of folk who sought to keep women away from the more ill-mannered men, though really, she found it a little excessive. She considered herself reasonably polite, but she certainly had a dirty mouth when angry or surprised.

Something about the stranger’s attitude- normally Cass would take offense to being told she ought not be around someone, to someone acting as though she couldn’t care for herself. But from this stranger, it didn’t seem as though he were patronizing her.

His question was difficult to answer. She decided to divert him until she thought of a reason, one that she could explain without leading him to think she was a bit loopy in the brain area. “Cassia,” she said, settling in more comfortably on her stool. “You don’t quite blend here- just like me.” She shrugged. “Thought I’d ask why.” She realized abruptly, after having spoken, that he did rather stand out. She’d only said it as an excuse, but it fit. If he was waiting here for someone to arrive, the sort of person others needed to be warned off from- Ezra was full of scoundrels. An honest quarrel, someone facing up to his problems, was genuinely unusual. “Or for that matter, why I shouldn’t be around when your mysterious man shows up.”

She’d fought the urge to  say ‘mysterious friend’, deciding it might cause offense. Instead, she bit back the urge to ask too many questions at once. Overloading a stranger was a good way to arouse their suspicions. And reasonably so- if someone was suddenly overly interested in her, she’d be wary, too. Shame. Whatever she’d seen around this man made her want to know more about him- and to find a reason to stick around long enough to meet whoever was coming. A small part of her wondered if this would be serious trouble- of the fightin’ sort, instead of merely a lot of talk- but she didn’t want to volunteer her help without knowing what was going on. 

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus's questions had to wait while the girl suddenly had an urge to shed some of her layers. He knew Ezra could get frigid at times, even for a 'desert' planet. It got only so much rain at times. Even still, he laughed out loud as she pulled on her leather jacket, after dropping the extra layers. 

He noticed now her face was the younger part of her. She definitely had a set of a woman. Maybe not a lady the way she was standing, but that never made anyone less for lacking. He didn't order a drink but continued to down his water, when she finally gave him a name for her face. "Cassie"He said. "That short of Cassiopeia?" The constellations of earth that weren't visible from the new 'verse. But a few folk cared enough to keep the names written down and when the worlds of the verse were settled, a few of the old names got thrown up to the sky with a whole mess of new ones.


It made horoscopes and feng shui right complicated 'sciences' though.

The word 'blend' caught his ear. People wanted to blend when they didn't want to be seen. Out in the middle of nowhere it was a right difficult thing to manage. Anything moving earned a gaze. Anyone breathing warranted caution. Rim folk were cautious by necessity. 

When she mentioned Burts as 'his mysterious man' Marcus flinched deeper and looked the woman in the eye. His voice was low, and even in the minor noise of the bar it would be hard to hear him. The barman was tending to some of the locals, so thankfully out of earshot.

"He's a slaver. A murderer. Probably a rapist too. Nathanial Burts." His voice was a hiss above the wind. "And I intend to see him bound or dead before the next turn of the world." There was no sense beating around the bush, this woman was curious, no sense hiding things for her to stumble into later.

He kept his ears open to the sounds of engines, he'd have to move quick. Unless they landed far out, but that didn't seem likely. What would they have to fear from this town of schmucks?

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet

Folding her other layers neatly beside her, Cass had to suppress a grin. I look at least a little ridiculous, going around as bundled as that, but I would rather look a bit silly than be cold. The Ta Ma Duh  weather is atrocious! 

“It wasn’t intended to be, but I like that,” she said. She’d never really thought of the connection- Cassia had been choosing mainly for the sound of it, because it felt right, but she liked the idea of being named after a far-away constellation. Though really, Cassiopeia was a mouthful to pronounce, and undoubtedly just as difficult to spell.

Since he didn’t tell her his name, she was about to ask. However, she noticed his flinch when he started discussing the man he was waiting for, and decided it was time to hush and let him speak. Cass wasn’t one to let herself be sucked into emotional displays of panic or concern, but she felt a twinge of anger as the man explained. She had no love lost for slavers. She’d encountered a few when she’d first come to Ezra, and when she’d moved in with Xue-Yin. The encounters had been tense and uncomfortable, often evolving into a stand off, but she’d resisted the urge to ‘solve’ the problem with violence for Xue’s sake. Now, however, half-way across the planet…

It’s not about how far away she is. It’s about doing the right thing, that’s the same whether or not she can see. But I can’t see anything wrong with stopping a slaver. She smiled grimly. I don’t see much wrong with killing one.

“An understandable goal,” she said, and offered him a hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

Though she was doing her best to be friendly, the prickling tinge of doubt didn’t leave her mind. He’s nice enough, and he’s interesting- I want to figure out what I saw- but I’m not going to jump into anything, she promised herself. He could be lying, or mistaken, who knows. I don’t know him well enough to tell. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was more alert now, tensed up, keeping an eye on the door. If he is right, I AM going to help. That’s not even in question. This seems like a personal vendetta, but stepping on toes has never stopped me before from doing what I think’s right, and I’m not about to change that now. It’d be a shame if her insistent assistance offended him, but not as shameful as letting a slaver go free. Particularly here- she knew on some parts of Ezra slavers roamed looking for victims.

And that explains why he warned me off, she noted. A young woman traveling all alone in the middle of nowhere with no family to speak of, at least none that’s visible- a good target. A grim thought, but not one that would deter her. Let him try, she thought, the words echoing in her mind like a dare, Give me the opportunity and the excuse! Perhaps there were some things to be said for growing up in one of the barer areas of a border world, in a closed community. There’d be problems there, but never slavers- never those who thought other humans could be owned as property. The very thought sent chills up her spine. No, I can’t sit and watch that.

Xue-Yin would disapprove- she always did when Cass took shortcuts or got herself in trouble- but it would be more token complaints than honest distress, since slavers were involved. Besides, she’ll expect it. I’ve never believed in ‘picking your fights’. Either it’s not serious enough to bother, in which case you should let well enough alone, or it is important, and you’re a coward if you back away.

The stranger probably thought she was being quite rude and ignoring him, since he had no way of knowing she was lost in thought. For a moment, Cass thought to use fear of slavers as an excuse, but she didn’t want to start out by lying to this man. Besides, the look on her face, while relatively passive, clearly read anger, not fear. Let him introduce himself, she reminded herself, Then we’ll decide what to do with this jao gao <a mess>.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Cassie's response to his remark on her name didn't merit pause. 'Cassie' from Cassandra. Still her response to his whisper did provoke thought. She didn't flinch, not in fear anyway. She didn't retreat. She didn't back away from him. There was a fire in his eyes. 

She could be useful. A dark whisper hissed in his head. 
She could get hurt. Marcus's own voice echoed back. 

"Marcus." The man answered. "Once Private First Class O'Terra." He shrugged as he shook her hand. He gave it a steady grip, and shook twice. 

The look on her face was upset at best. Angry would probably be more like it. "I know he'll be here... he thinks he's meeting a friend. Friend ain't here, so he's not likely to stay around long." Why was he talking like the girl was already in on this job!? Lord above, why can't I keep my damn mouth shut! His posture was tense as he released her hand, but he inhaled and exhaled; his body visibly slacking as he leaned against the bar.

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet

Keeping a close eye on Marcus, Cassia tried to gauge his reaction. It wasn’t easy. He had a firm grip, though that sort of confidence would be expected in a military man. She was impressed to find he’d been a soldier. Cass didn’t have much respect for politics- or really, any knowledge of it- but someone willing to fight for what they believed in deserved some grudging admiration.

Tzao-gao<damn it>…. What if this is all political? Is he really a slaver, or could it be someone who took prisoners? I’m not getting involved in any political Shu ma nyaow <stinking horse piss>

“Is he alliance?” Cassia asked bluntly. “I’m not much for politics- don’t know enough about either side to get involved.” She hesitated. “If he’s as you describe, I think I’ll be sticking around to meet him.” The conversation had gone dark quite quickly. One moment, Marcus had been trying to guess what her name stemmed from- futilely, as she’d simply chosen Cassia, not short for anything- and now, they were essentially discussing….Well, I can’t rightly tell, but I think murder’s on the table. She was getting in over her head, but what else could she do? This is soldier’s business, she realized abruptly, and steeled herself, not wanting her expression to give away the hint of doubt. And me, I can’t say I’ve never caused harm, but I’ve never killed anyone. Been a few times I thought I might have to, and there’s some who might be better off that way considerin’ the shape they’re in, but I never finished them off…. Since she was in a small area, one where such things would be noticed, Cass had concealed the pair of knives she carried, not wanting to cause a panic. However, they weighed heavily on her from where they lay, hidden within her layers. 

Before Marcus could even answer, she leaned in, adding in a whisper, “I’m no soldier- never seen a battlefield- but I’ve been in my share of fights.” He hadn’t questioned her before, but just in case…. “I’m not much with a gun, but I don’t go wanderin’ unarmed.” She shifted slightly, moving her coat to reveal the handle of one of her knives. “And I’ve been fighting long before I got my hands on these,” she admitted. Unarmed combat wasn’t something men with guns tended to value.

[Marcus O'Terra]

He could wager Cassia was eyeing him up. Marcus had given the look more times then he could count. Getting it even more than that. Still she was still talking to him so she had to like what she saw, or at least was going to tolerate it. That was good news for Marcus, hopefully.

"Alliance?" Marcus almost laughed, but he controlled his voice. "No. Not at all. Far from it. Criminal Slaver..." Her comment about politics was a bit tricky. Though she might have just wanted to keep her head out of the fire. No shame in that.

When she leaned in to show off her knives, The young man blushed a bit at her closeness. Then he registered what she was saying and might be offering. Marcus suddenly got started thinking his plan might work. The barman was getting close though to discuss this openly.

"Ever 'dance' inside of a ship?" He asked, a smile blooming on his face. "Some people trip up when they're on a ship. Even when it's on the ground." 

It was a pleasant little euphemism. Harmless even. No reason to raise a stir.

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet

Generally Cassia was firm with her personal space- and shy about invading anyone else’s- but she was more concerned with the issue at hand than with anxiety or propriety. Well, perhaps anxiety wasn’t quite the term, but her uneasiness with people who didn’t respect boundaries had certainly been pushed away from the urgency of the upcoming arrival, since she was now the one doing the invading. 

“Good.” Well, it wasn’t good that the man was a slaver, but it was good that it cleared up the dilemma of whether she should involve herself. The answer was now a resounding ‘yes’. 

“Never on a ship,” she was forced to admit, “I haven’t been able to spend enough time on one to have the opportunity. But I’ve danced in plenty of crowded spaces before, alleys and the like.” She tilted her head as she spoke, raising her chin stubbornly. Sure, she’d never fought on a ship before, but if that was the plan now, she’d learn fast. 

There’s so many things I haven’t gotten to ask- how does he know this slaver? Is this a personal grudge, or a general one, something on principle? Is he a vigilante? I know most out this far from civilization deal out their own justice and set their own rules, but… I wish I knew the whole story. Again, the ring of blazing light flashed in her mind, this time in memory. And what on Earth-that-was did I see, what is that? 

Another important question occurred to her. “Are there any slaves with him?” she asked keenly, locking her eyes on Marcus’. “What happens to anyone we rescue?” It was a testament to Xue’s patience that Cass had learned to trust her enough to assume she could enlist her help even when they were in an argument. Cass’ thoughts had immediately jumped to Xue-yin’s home when she tried to figure out where they could send any rescued slaves.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus like this gal already. She seemed to have a keen head on her shoulders. Something he was in sore need of. As they backed off each other and she responded to his claim on Burt's politics, it seemed her solid 'yes' was the end of that topic. If she needed to bring it up again he'd explain as best he could. Burts was a criminal, and one of the worst sort.

She kept up the little 'dance' banter better than he thought. But the idea of her with those knives... Maybe dance was the right word for it? People still studied the old hand-to-hand combat 'arts'. Movies of them tended to be kinda dance-ish. If they weren't just people punching and kicking each other over and over again.

Her next questions were on the practical side. Marcus shrugged. "I don't know. If he shows up today, or tomorrow, he might have folk. Not sure what his 'schedule' is like, exactly." But her concern for them was touching, though he wondered if it was placed in the emotional or the practical."They go free, and armed if they're willing and able."

If he could get Burt's crew to give him up for their own hides, that'd be best. Less bloodshed that is. "You know first aid?"

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet


Fighting with a gun seemed like a dance to Cass- people moved as if choreographed. First they fired, then ducking back to reload, then firing again…. Often with breaks for better cover in between. When it came to army regiments, well-organized, timed groups, it could appear rather like an unusual dance. There was a certain grace in hand to hand fighting, but it wasn’t exactly the same… 

It’ll be amusing after all this concern and planning, he shoots the bastard dead as soon as he shows, she mused.

“They’ll be on a strange planet, separated from their old lives or families, with no money or belongings,” she pointed out. Personally, she preferred the fighting and rescuing part of things, but care for the rescued needed to be done, too. “I know someone who can take them in, help them find their way back where they came from,” she offered.

His next question was a good one. “Just a little,” she admitted. “I can patch up the basics, but anything beyond that, no.”

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus shrugged. "They might even be from Ezra. But if you've got someone who can set them up right. Fine. We'll figure that out, if it comes to it."

As it stood now, they might have a chance at taking down Burts and his crew. That was the key focus. Rescuing maybe-slaves would be a bonus if it came up. Or a liability depending on the perspective.

He asked for some more water and the barman frowned at him. Marcus ignored it and turned back to Cass. For whatever reason, she seemed willing to help him. The odds of Burts taking on a girl for his crew were slim, but not nil. But he shouldn't be expecting this. 

Unless he was paranoid. That might put him on edge. Hopefully not though....

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet


With that resolved, Cass felt free to go back to planning the more important part- what to do with the slaver. She was trying to stay calm. Being impulsive never helped anything. And for that matter, she needed a realistic plan, one she could follow through on. There was no point in planning revenge if she was only gonna back out partway through. 

Least it’s a slaver, she thought grimly. There’s never really a good time to start killing, but at least it means I won’t hesitate if it comes to that. That, at least, was a firm principle set in her mind. She’d seen slaves before, Xue-yin had taken in a fair share of them until they got back on their feet. The things that were done to those people- anyone who would try to take away someone’s very humanity… I need to stay calm. Which means, I need to not think about that now.

“Is the plan to dance here?” she asked, “Or just keep an eye on him, follow him?”

[Marcus O'Terra]

It was clear that Cassie was on board for this, at least to the appearance of it. That was good enough for Marcus. It'd be no small feat to pull this off, but with luck; and proper planning. They might get the deed done. He leaned only a bit closer. 

"Now Burts runs on a Shellback Mark two. Ship is piss and scrap metal, but it runs enough for the bastard". He took some bar napkins and started tearing them into pieces to give a general idea of what he was describing.

Shellbacks have three main decks. The belly is the cargo Deck, the middle deck has engines, quarters, and the bridge. Top deck is more storage." He didn't bother to arrange the napkin shards to match this, but was already showing a 'map' of the cargo deck. 

"Now the cargo deck has an elevator in the back, but the place is big and open. Bad place to get ambushed. And we are too few to do any ambushing. The stairs up are RIGHT by the airlock doors on the inside."

He rearranged the scraps to look like a horse shoe with a cross bridging its ends.  "This brings us here." He pointed to arc of the of the 'horseshoe' "Bridge is a straight run up, past crew dorms. Which can be locked from the bridge. Probably." He tapped the inside of the horse shoe and the ends. "There are dorms rigged for slaves on the sides, and on two levels in the middle. Good news is the top level has shuttles, which I can fly.... one of em at least. If they're still functional. So if we need to jet, that's our exit strategy... given that we'd probably muck up their engines on our way up."

He swept up the pieces and rolled them over the ring his glass of water was leaving. The scraps absorbed the water, and he smiled, weakly, at Cassi. "So that's the plan.... well. the layout. Keeping the plan fluid. OH.. Security cameras. They have those."

[Ilana Logan]

Cassia Ayelet


The details of the plan didn’t seem entirely clear, but perhaps that was because she was caught on one major question. Ensuring the barkeep was otherwise occupied, Cass leaned in as if flirting. “Why don’t we just ambush him right outside the bar? If he takes much longer it’ll be dark, and no one will see.” With luck, anyone who saw them would just assume they were in the midst of the usual dance. Oh, the many euphimisms ‘dance’ could cover…

Though she’d just asked a question, Cass sort of took in stride that the plan seemed firmly set on fighting on the ship. Perhaps she’d asked just out of habit- questioning all angles was traditional for her. She turned quickly to the deck plan he was drawing out, carefully locking the information into her mind. The question she asked was subtle, abrupt, and non-sequitor, but if she was going to attack a  man with Marcus, she needed to know exactly what was going on. “How do you have such close details on his ship? And how do you know you can run it- have you run a similar one? Are you a pilot?” her questions were really not-quite-honest. She was beginning to suspect that Marcus had close personal knowledge of the slaver. How else could he seem this well informed of the movements of one who’d likely want to keep a lot of secrecy surrounding himself? 

The final question tore itself from her lips, though she knew asking it so blatantly might cause some problems. “Just how do you know him?”

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus was expecting questions, and as he leaned close to answer them his body shifted and tilted closer, as if receiving and returning flirtations. The first question was a damn good one, and one that couldn't be avoided. "Consider this. Fighting in the town, even for an ambush, puts the town at risk. If we're standing at the end of it. Which I'd like. We'd be accountable for an explanation. Which I don't want to give. Inside the ship, it's not their fight. Also, less likely a stray bullet shoots through a wall and kills a kid. That. does. happen." Marcus stressed those last words.

Explaining there was a 2000 credit bounty on the man's beating heart could wait until Burts was broken in one his own cells. Fingerless, toeless, blind and bound.

He avoided the second question, he'd answer it at the end.

"I spent years before the war and during working on a salvager ship. It was near mid-bulk class and had a shuttle I learned to fly as well. So yeah, I could fly his wreck out of here. I don't want to though. It's illegally modified and tainted with murder and the worst things people can inflict on others. I'd sooner see it crash into a star." He thought about it. "Which is a very real possibility. Hell I could even take the shuttles...." He'd think about it if the time came.

Now came the big question. He needed a drink for this so he ordered a short glass of whiskey. The bar man waited for coin before he poured it, but once the glass was at level the man was gone from sight; appeased, perhaps.

Marcus took a sip and let the flavor burn across his mouth. The silence hung as the whiskey dripped down his mouth and into his throat. It burned as it went down, and Marcus wondered exactly what was in this particular brew.

"Nathanial Burts..... took me as payment for my father's debts. I was six years old. For the next six years of my life. I existed as a tool; I was not me." His free hand was massaging his shoulder again. The one with the brand hidden under the tattoo.

"I was taught to shoot. How to beat others my size into submission. How to fight. When I was.... ten? maybe eleven. I was on some hole in the ground fighting arena when a small band of reavers hit." He shook his head as the images flashed like pictures on smart paper.

"Less then ten, but they tore apart the place and killed most of the bastards there. Some of the kids too. Well when I was twelve. Burts decided I needed to make my first kill." He looked at Cassi with all the seriousness of a doctor before a terminal patient. "And he chose my dad. Who once again, was in debt."

He took another, smaller, sip of whiskey and let the liquid burn briefly before he swallowed. "I didn't kill him... my dad." He answered, quietly. "I shot Burts, and then the two men he had. Burts lived, it seems. The others probably not."

There was a silence and Marcus stared at the whiskey glass. Wondering how the woman would react. Most people didn't like his sob story. Hell he probably shouldn't have told her.

Least he wasn't yapping about the bounty.

[Ilana Logan]

Right. Damage to bystanders. That was a good reason. Cass let that question drop. She wasn’t going to take those risks.

As Marcus began to explain, she couldn’t quite fight the slight shudder that ran through her. The sort of things that happened on a slaver ship, she didn’t even want to imagine. Apparently, Marcus didn’t either, because he ordered a drink. Cass thought for a minute that perhaps she wouldn’t get an answer, but then he continued his story.

As was her habit, Cass kept herself calm and straight-faced during his story. Generally, she was used to repressing emotion, thinking calmly of the best way to help, the best thing to say. But hearing what had happened to him, it made a lot of sense now that he was tracking down this particular slaver. She’d already offered to help, but now….

I’m sorry seemed to pathetic and pitying to say, so she put such thoughts aside. Instead, noting for later that he was rubbing his shoulder- maybe an old injury from the slaver?- as he spoke, she tried to focus. 

Generally, while she was prone to violence perhaps a bit earlier than was necessary- seeing friends or the weak in danger tended to bring out the part of her that had learned from a young age that violence was the fastest resolution- Cass knew she was about to step over the line. But that didn’t stop her. “So you want to take him alive,” she said quietly. Her voice held all the emotion her face didn’t. Her eyes were clear, but her voice was a bit choked up. 

There were plenty of times where maybe she’d hurt someone a bit- okay, a lot- worse than needed to protect someone from them. Hell, she’d be lying if she said she’d never gone on a revenge mission. But what she was proposing now…. Essentially, it was a chance to torture a man in cold blood, after capture. A man who without a doubt deserved it, but still…

Another step into the dark, another step away from… losing the track again. Anger’s part of being broken, anger’s what leads people down the path to bitterness. Protectiveness goes too far, or anger becomes lashing out, and you become the person who damaged you- but even knowing this, I’d still… would I be able to? Can I stand there and watch someone be tortured, or help, knowing no one’s in immediate danger? Twisting an arm, threatening a few broken fingers to get a location from someone, or secure a hostage’s release, that’s different than this…. I can’t think about it now, I’m in over my head but something has to happen. He has to be stopped. That much I know. And… If that’s what he has in mind after, I don’t need to stick around for him. Or I can end it. Put this slaver down quick- stop him without causing needless suffering.

"We'll find a way to make the plan work." It was foolish, making a promise she couldn't garauntee, but perhaps she was hoping if she said it, it'd come true. "Someone like that- he needs to be stopped. Those- all that breaks the basic codes of human behavior, whether you're in the center of the core or way out in the rim. Some things don't change. And if he can't follow the rules of basic humanity, he doesn't belong in it." Now that torture was- in her mind anyway- off the table, at least torture she'd be expected to participate in, it was easier not to question her resolve. Something was going to be done. Anger, indignation, rage at what had been done to Marcus and others at the man's hands, drove her.

[Marcus O'Terra]

The former soldier was glad that Cassia was agreeing with him for the most part. It was logic, plus it meant that he wouldn't have to pay off anyone to keep their mouths shut. Or he could pay them less. Stood to reason one or the other. For much of his story she didn't seem to turn away or flinch. She watched him and had a seriousness on her face he wasn't expecting.

Marcus's eyes widened at Cassia's conclusion. Even through all that, she could see? The girl had senses, that was for sure. He let his head hang at her words and nodded. 

"I don't want him alive.... but this'll end better that way. Leave it at that. For now. Please." Talking about that around here would lead to trouble. No doubts on that. The words 'for now' were as a good as a promise to Marcus. She would get her cut. Damn sure.

When she started on her little speech, Marcus had to smile. Doing the right thing. Sure, that worked. As long as he was getting paid for it.

If not for the promise of credits; he'd have probably let this matter stew until he could get a better crew together. As it stood.... he probably should have anyway. Virgil would have probably hoped onto a nice juicy bounty like this.

And taken a huge share of it too. 2000 split better two ways than three, or as many as Virgil had on his ship.

Riskier, though. Still Cassia seemed enthusiastic. That was probably good. Yeah. He took another sip of whiskey and let the flavor drown out his thoughts for a moment.