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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Viktyr Gehrig" data-source="post: 1256896" data-attributes="member: 9249">Grith, in the home of "Shadowsong": Deakon was just finishing another glass of Scotch when Shadowsong's doorbell rang. The sesheyan casually picked up a nasty-looking fighting knife and slid over to the door, half walking and half gliding, and opened the door as far as the chain would allow. "Who are you?" He held the knife behind his back, out of sight but easily ready to stab the person delivering a wrong answer. "I'm Rex. This is Zero. We're the rest of Deakon's crew." Shadowsong closed the door and undid the chain, allowing the last two members of the crew inside the sesheyan's apartment. "Shall we discuss business, then?" The sesheyan cocked its head at Rex at an angle that only a sesheyan's spine could endure without breaking, and Rex shuddered. Everything about these primitive assassin-slaves gave him the creeps, and only the prospect of a paying job kept him from showing it. Deakon answered for Rex, keeping the negotiations in his hands. "Tony says you need a favor from us. He mentioned it was an... expensive favor." Deakon cradled one of the sesheyan's Scotch glasses in his hands while waiting for an answer. Shadowsong turned his attention away from Rex, who sighed inaudibly. The assassin half-glided back to his seat on the couch and faced Deakon. "My people, they exist as slaves to VoidCorp. Some of us, they serve willingly. Others... others do not." Deakon nodded, and the sesheyan continued. "My colleagues, we work to free our enslaved brethren, so that they can live in the old ways on this new planet, or so that they can join in galactic society. We give them the choice that VoidCorp does not." Deakon nodded. "Where do we come in?" The assassin nodded slowly. "We have arranged an extraction, and our people are waiting to be rescued. But, our old smuggler is imprisoned on Penates, and we cannot tell them to scatter and wait for another time. You must reach them at Alderac and smuggle them out of VoidCorp space for us. For this, we will pay you ten thousand Concord dollars." With a Scotch inside him to calm his nerves, Rex turned to face the sesheyan. "How many are we expecting?" "There should be no more than six or seven. We have lost communication, but my brother is arranging things on his end, and he is well aware of our limits." The sesheyan crooked his head at Rex again. Rex shook his head. "For six or seven, we need twenty-five. We're taking a lot of risks and our ship ain't built to carry passengers." Rex hoped that the sesheyan assassin didn't know better than to refute him-- hauling passengers was about the only thing the stolen prison bus was good for. The sesheyan shook his head. "We cannot afford to pay you that much. It has taken many months to arrange this much money for you."  Deakon looked around the apartment. The furniture was expensive and the decorations flashy. "Fifteen thousand for the job and an extra five for trying to bull**** us. You've got the connections for serious money, and if your brothers are on Alderac instead of Sheya, they've got the skills to make that money back in a month. Pay us what we're worth or we walk." The sesheyan's face and wings darkened a second, whether out of embarrasment or anger was anyone's guess. "You are astute, Deakon Cross. Fat Tony did well in recommending your crew. I will pay you fifteen thousand Concord dollars and we will put the insults behind us. Or I will hire another crew for twelve and they'll be happy for the work." "Happy to get themselves and your buddies killed, too. We'll get 'em back alive, for eighteen." Rex finished the rest of his glass. "Or we'll find another job that pays better and be happy to have that." The sesheyan tightened his mouth. "Eighteen. But you had better pull this off perfectly." Deakon nodded, then looked at his crew. They, too, nodded in agreement. "Got yourself a deal, Shadowsong. Give us the pertinent details and we'll get right on it."</blockquote>

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