Begging the Captain's Pardon - COMPLETE
After finding no safe planet-based sanctuaries - his former sith mistress's "recovery" teams having dogged his every step - Jon Paolo was forced to consider other alternatives.
In a bar on Tatooine, he heard of a group of pirates that perpetrated their nefarious deeds from the safety of a vessel named the Crimson Ferret's Revenge. He cringed at the thought of becoming a pirate - despite the heinous acts he had committed while under the influence of glitteryll, he didn't consider himself a criminal. Perhaps, if he was to live, that had to change.
Sighing, he approached the bartender. Maybe he would know how to make contact with a pirate.
Begging the Captain's Pardon
((OOC: Hey! Good to see you, ya creepy git. Someone'll be in the thread shortly, and if they're not I'll edit this post and do it meself.
Edit: Two minutes later.....))
After her third glass of blue milk, Alema waved down a waitress to get a refill. As the young woman refilled Alema's glass she turned to the Twi'lek and informed her that the gentleman up at the bar had come here looking for something, and word around the campfire was that he might be interested in getting involved somewhere.
Alema hadn't actually noticed him, and turned a questioning glance in his direction.
Whoa! It's that creepy guy. I'll be damned.
"Yeah, thanks. I appreciate the tip." The girl nodded and continued on her rounds. Once she was gone, Alema took a sip from her fourth glass of blue milk and wondered whether she really felt like talking to him. He'd kind of freaked her out the first time they'd met and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to provoke another wave of weirdness.
But then... he'll probably be more freaked out than I will. Armed with that mischievous logic and (unlike last time) a blaster at her hip, Alema picked up her glass and slid into the seat next to him at the bar.
"Jon, right? Met you on Mygeeto. What brings you to this shady corner of the universe?"Edited by: Alema Nilim at: 7/21/07 11:25 am
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon sat at the bar nursing a glass of - what was supposed to be - Menkooro whiskey. Cringing Jon took another sip. It tasted more like something that had been dipped from the bartender's murky sink water.
He watched the waitress making her rounds of the tables through the mirror behind the bar. She had a shape that even the grimy surface of the mirror couldn't conceal; and, she seemed to have taken a liking to him. Enough so that she had warned Jon that a stranger from off-world was looking for someone that met his description. After flirting with her awhile longer he coaxed a description of the man from her. It sounded like Sean. If it was, he was probably the lead of a four-man recovery team sent to return Jon to the citadel. Damn, they were getting closer and closer. Each seemingly random move he made, they matched. Lesson learned - never underestimate a sith master's information network.
He was on Tatooine to locate and claim a Vangard Pathfinder his father had arranged to be stored in his name; but, with Sean and his team so close, he may have to abandon that search and come back later for it. Damn the luck! He needed that ship to avoid using commercial transports - the likely cause of his lack of success in eluding his pursuers.
Jon noticed that the waitress was whispering to one of her customers. He couldn't see the person because he was seated behind another patron. When the waitress finished her conversation, she glanced at Jon and briefly made eye contact through the mirror, giving him a muted smile.
"What now?" Jon thought, wondering if she was selling him out. He purposefully turned his attention back to his glass of whiskey, trying to act unconcerned. With his right hand he fished a tiny, short-range, air-powered flechette gun from his pocket and slipped it up his sleeve. The flechettes were tipped with a neurotoxin that would almost immediately produce an ataxic state similar to extreme drunkeness, but, if allowed to run its course would eventually lead to complete paralysis and death. The small leather kit of drugs, poisons, and antidotes in his bag had a variety of interesting uses - one of the advantages of being trained by a sith assassin he mused.
The person in question stood and was walking towards him. He was relieved to see it was a female and not likely to be part of a recovery team; but, he was shocked to see that it was a twi'lek and even more confused by the fact that she looked familiar. What was her name? Alema? Now what in hell was she doing here? She had seemed to take an immediate dislike to him the one time they had met, so, why would she bother to come speak to him? The odds of running into her again, especially in a place like Tatooine seemed pretty remote. Too remote for his liking. It appeared the only possibility was that she - was - a member of the team afterall. He slide the flechette gun down into his hand - ready to incapacitate her if that proved to be the case.
"Jon, right? Met you on Mygeeto. What brings you to this shady corner of the universe?"
"Alema? What brings a society maven like you to a place like this? When I saw you last you were dressed to kill and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous," Jon quipped. He had been there and he wasn't rich or famous.
"To answer your question, though, I'm here to take possession of an old scout ship, a Pathfinder. I got a bargain on it - the only drawback was I had to come here to pick it up."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"Society maven?" Alema repeated, privately delighted that she had managed to make a good showing at the party on Mygeeto. Part of her was also glad he hadn't immediately assumed she was a high-class slave, since it wouldn't have been out of the question. "Nah. I was just there because a friend asked me. Had words with him a couple of times but... eh. The evening wasn't so bad." Alema shrugged. "I don't do those things much anymore."
Just looking to purchase a scout ship, huh? Sitting and hanging around, watching everybody around you... sure you're just here for a drink before you leave.
"Oh, yeah?" Alema nodded. "Glad you were able to get a decent deal on it. Lot of interesting deals around here," she finished thoughtfully. "I guess you wouldn't be here for any of those, would you?"
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon chuckled and relaxed slightly - sighing with relief. No. Whatever she was doing here it had nothing to do with his past. What did she mean? What other deals could she be referring to? It couldn't be.... Jon looked at the twi'lek's expression, her demeanor, her seeming self-confidence .... no, she wasn't offering that he laughed to himself - not that she wasn't attractive enough for it. So, what was she hinting?
Taking a sip of his drink to buy himself another moment to think, he then turned and looked into Alema's eyes - trying to read her soul. Past the outter defenses and a reluctance to trust, Jon saw kindness in those eyes. A kindness he hadn't perceived in anyone in a long time. Should he open up to her and tell her his problems? God knows, it would be so good to have someone that he could talk to about them.
"Alema," Jon began. "There is this other thing ......"
Jon was distracted by the opening of the front door. Silhouetted by the incandesent glare of the twin suns was a familiar profile - Sean.
Damn. Could she really be with him after all? Looking her in the eyes Jon implored, "Alema, for all that you hold holy - tell me truthfully - do you know the man at the door?"
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"I-- what?" Alema frowned in confusion. That was an odd and sudden question, she thought as she turned her head to glance at the door. It was... just some guy.
What is his problem? And why did he ask me like that?
Returning her eyes to Jon, she realized that the man was worried... even scared. Something was very wrong here and while it wasn't surprising to find a hunted man in a place like this, the change in his demeanor was so jarring that even Alema was concerned.
"Well, no," she said. Her tone was dismissive, but her hand dropped down to her blaster. Alema would have armed her other weapon, but if Jon had enemies who were likely to act quickly, Alema would have no time to play her usual games before showing her allegiances.
It was odd. Alema wasn't sure at what point she'd even decided her allegiances. All she knew was that as bizarre and random as Jon's behavior had been on Mygeeto, something in his earnestness and sincerity now was having an impact.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Exhaling a sigh of relief, Jon simply and earnestly replied, "Good."
It was obvious Sean saw Jon and was waiting for him to make a move. Watching his former sparing partner from the corner of his eye Jon continued, " Alema, there are things I'd like to discuss with you; but, this.... - he indicated the man at the door with a nod of his head - won't wait. If you can stay, it won't take long - one way or the other."
Taking another sip of his drink, Jon stood. Watching the sith hunter but speaking to Alema he said, "Watch yourself. He has three partners somewhere and there's a chance they may be interested in you if they think we're together." Looking back at the twi'lek, he smiled grimly and said, "Wish me luck!"
Stepping into the aisle, Jon faced Sean with his arms crossed, an impassive mask covering his face. Sean grinned ferally and laughed the laugh of a predator that believes its prey is cornered. With a nod of his head, Jon indicated that Sean should follow him into a back room. A small sallustan was there, lying on the table sleeping off a drunk. Jon picked him up by his vest, threw him outside the door and reentered the room. He quickly took inventory of the room's contents, committing their locations to memory. He picked a spot opposite the door that allowed him movement in four directions - five if that chandelier would hold him - and waited.
Sean approached the room at a slow, measured pace. The two had been advisaries at the citadel, often facing each other in the training pit. Most of their bouts had to be stopped by their trainer before one of them was killed or damaged beyond the ability of the bacta tank to heal. Pure brutality was what it amounted to. But Sean also had a sadistic side to him. In bouts with expendables, he often withheld the killing blow to extend their pain and suffering. It was a trait that endeared him to some of the sith, but, made him a mortal enemy in Jon.
Sean stepped just inside the door and looked around. Satisfied, he closed the door behind him and said, "Jon, how are you doing brother. Are you eating enough, you're looking gaunt."
"Sean," Jon relied, "Cut to the chase. We both know you aren't here to inquire about my health."
"Never one for small talk were you, Jon. All right then. I have a message for you from our Mistress. She invites you to come home now of your free will and all will be forgiven. As the criminal Jedi that assisted in your escape was killed, she sees no need for you to be punished. As a sign of her sincerity, she sent you this gift."
Sean set a small box on the table. It was crafted of exquisite rosewood, oiled and hand rubbed until it almost glowed. It's clasps were of burnished rodium. Jon grimaced. Beware of sith bearing gifts, he thought to himself. He reluctantly flipped open the clasps and opened the box.
Inside was a lightsabre. More significantly, it was Lori's lightsabre. Jon felt as if someone had taken it and run him through. He leaned forward over the table with both hands bracing himself. His mind returned to the day of his escape and the last time he saw her, the last words she spoke to him, that incredible, agonizing moment when her dead body slipped from his hands and she fell into the sea below. All the pain of losing her flooded through him once more just as excruciatingly intense as it had been that day.
"Ah, good. The Mistress will be pleased that you are enjoying it so," mocked Sean.
Actually, Jon was glad the hunter spoke. It brought him back to the present. A spark of rage had been ignited when Sean called Lori a criminal. Seeing the Lightsabre had stoked that spark into a raging inferno. Jon recalled his instructor's words - "Controlled, rage is a tool for the warrior. Contain it within, let it not show externally in words, expression or action before the proper time for its use."
Gathering himself, Jon picked up the lightsabre and examined it. He asked, "So, Sean. Why would you give me this when I could use it against you?"
Sean laughed and replied, "You think me a fool? It doesn't work. The crystal must have shattered when she dropped it in the rocks."
That was the answer Jon had expected; but, Jon knew better. He knew that lightsabre better than anyone in the world other than Lori because he had helped her build it. He had guided her through the kinrath to the crystal cave where she found her crystal. He had helped her adjust the modulation circuits and the blade arc tip to shape the beam short and thin just as she wanted it. He had helped her design and build in the bio recognition circuit that would only allow it to be activated by her... and him.
Grasping the hilt properly, Jon placed his thumb on one activation point and his little finger on another. It was awkward, but, it was designed to be so. Fingers in place, he felt a slight current run through his hand... identifying him.
Crossing his arms as if he were in deep thought, Jon casually walked around the table and, facing Sean, sat on its edge.
"Be honest with me, Sean," Jon said. "Am I right in thinking - only one of us is going to leave here alive?"
"That's the way I see it, brother," Sean smirked.
Standing, reaching out and tapping the hunter on the chest lightly with the lightsabre hilt, Jon said, "Sean, you always were mir'osik."
"only when it is time, focus your rage and use it to consume your advesary utterly in one quick decisive killing stroke - have no mercy as you expect no mercy"
Moving his hand slightly and squeezing, the lightsabre bust to life - through Sean's chest. Months of pent up rage busting forth from Jon, he pulled the sabre savagely from Sean's chest, and, in one motion, spun 360 degrees, cleanly severing Sean's head from his body before he had time to fall to the floor from the chest wound.
At the end of the arc, the gyroscopic inertia of the lightsabre pulled it from Jon's hands and it imbedded itself to the hilt in the wall. Chagrined, Jon carefully found the correct finger placement and deactivated it. How in blue blazes did Lori handle that thing one handed as easily as a rapier. Smiling to himself he thought, "Damn, she was an amazing woman."
Emotions began to overwhelm him. He found a chair and quickly sat down in it. Leaning forward, cradling his head with both hands and rocking side to side, he began to cry for the first time since that fateful night years ago in Corellia when his life was stolen.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon roused himself and steadied his emotions. He was glad the little twi'lek hadn't seen him break down like that. He was pretty sure she already thought he was daft. Grinning ruefully he thought, "and maybe she's right."
Looking about the room he realized he had more work to do. If he moved quickly he could probably confront the other three before they came into the bar to check on their leader.
He found a small carryall - it was probably the sallustan's - and emptied its contents on the table. He placed Sean's head in the carryall and zipped it shut. Opening the door slowly and looking outside, he saw no signs of the other hunters. He picked up the still sleeping drunk and placed him back on the table - leaving him a few credits to replace the grubby bag.
Closing the door behind him, Jon walked to the end of the bar and, holding out a credit chip, said to the bartender. "I left a bit of a mess in your back room. There are 100 credits in it for you if you'll dispose of the trash I left in there properly."
He eyed Jon suspiciously and the credit chip hungrily, looking back and forth between the two. Finally with a snort he reached for the chip. Eyeing the lightsabre stuck under Jon's belt he added, "Damn Jedi always come in here tearing things up."
"But..," Jon began to protest, but reconsidered. "Yes, well, our business is sometimes unpleasant but we appreciate the cooperation of good citizens like you. Thank you for your help."
Muttering, the bartender called a burly helper and the two headed to the room to dispose of the body.
Returning to Alema Jon smiled and said, "So far so good. If this next part goes as well, I'll buy you the dinner of your choice to celebrate. Be right back."
Jon left the bar quickly, hoping to make his confrontation with the other three hunters at a place of his choosing, and away from innocent bystanders. He hoped he could avoid a pitched battle - preferring to bluff them into a retreat of sorts.
Fortunately, it was near dusk and one of the two suns had already set. It was downright balmy by Tatooine standards.
Looking down the street he saw the front of a small hoovercraft parked in an alley. Sitting on its front was someone dressed in off-world clothes who definitely didn't seem to fit with the surroundings. He walked down the opposite side of the street to get a better look while still keeping his distance. Sure enough, two other men were lurking in the shadows, trying to keep cool.
Jon walked slowly towards them. Seeing him, the lookout called out to the other two who came running. Jon recognized the oldest of the three. He had been a resident of the barracks when Jon was there. The others must be new. Jon realized this was working in his favor. These three were simply muscle sent to do the heavy lifting. They didn't have a brain between the three of them and relied on the team leader for directions.
Jon walked up to them and handed the lookout the bag. "Here's a present for your mistress."
He placed the bag on the front of the hoovercraft and opened it, jumping back with a yelp when he saw the contents. The other two peered inside cautiously as if a viper were in it ready to spring out at them. Now they knew they were on their own and turned to face Jon.
Wondering how far he could play his newly found ace, Jon pulled his duster back as if to get it out of his way. Even these three recognized a lightsabre when they saw it. They were shocked and began muttering among themselves. Nobody told them they would have to fight a jedi. They were now just looking for a graceful way out, so Jon obliged them.
"I want you three to take that to your Mistress," he said indicating Sean's head. "Tell her I have declined her generous offer. Now, go. Get off Tatooine before I Change my mind about letting you go." To emphasize the point, in case they missed it, he began drumming the fingers of his right hand idly over the hilt of the lightsabre.
Vik, the oldest of the three said, "Come on, let's get out of here." Grabbing the bag, they climb aboard the hoovercrsaft and began pulling away.
Jon stepped back out of their path and watched as they sped away down the street in a cloud of dust. When they were finally out of sight, he exhaled a sigh of relief and turned back to the bar.
Finding Alema back at her table, he pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. Grinning like the cat that ate the canary he asked, "Do you know where a guy could find a decent steak around here? A nice quiet place where we can have a long talk would be wonderful."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"Watch yourself. He has three partners somewhere and there's a chance they may be interested in you if they think we're together. Wish me luck!"
The question on Alema's face was apparent as Jon disappeared with a stranger. What the hell? Then he didn't come back. And didn't come back. Minutes passed, and the bartender cast an inquiring look toward Alema. She replied with an exaggerated shrug, spreading her hands and shaking her head. She didn't know what was going on, either.
This situation was becoming exceedingly strange. Alema was torn. Go check on him and potentially complicate things by introducing a woman who couldn't really help in a fight? Or sit here... fuming in anguished and impotent curiosity. She opted to wait, not just because she might interfere with Jon's plans, but because she had no discernible reason to be as worried about him as she was. Until she could logically justify it to herself, Alema refused to go running off after him.
The man was trouble, but he seemed like such nice trouble, if potentially a little deranged. When Jon returned Alema whirled around to face him. He was talking to the bartender and his demeanor had changed somewhat.
Jedi? Alema blinked. He didn't seem like a Jedi, though Alema couldn't actually have explained to anyone else what distinguished a Jedi from any other person. He just... didn't seem like it. But maybe he was. The Twi'lek had no real reason to trust her own instincts above the evidence before her.
Then he was gone again!
"Dammit!" she exclaimed. Where was he going now? This was so obnoxious! Why was she even waiting for him?
Why is he being so careful to keep them away from me?
That realization settled the issue and she waited with her chin resting in her palms for him to finish whatever absurd errands of violence he was on.
"Do you know where a guy could find a decent steak around here? A nice quiet place where we can have a long talk would be wonderful."
"That depends," Alema replied. "Am I going to have to tack you to the floor to get you to sit still?"
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon laughed. It was a deep, relaxed laughter that no one had heard from him in a long, long time.
The confrontation with Sean and Jon's explosion of rage followed by the outpouring of remorse for his lost love had somehow been therapeutic. It had begun a closure process for his grief and guilt - one that would take a long time to complete - but that had begun none-the-less. He felt an inner peace he hadn't enjoyed in what seemed a lifetime.
"No, Alema." he replied, giving the petit twi'lek a disarmingly warm, yet mildly wolfish smile. "I promise you my undivided attention. Now, what were we discussing before we were so rudely interupted?" Edited by: Jon Paolo at: 7/23/07 8:13 pm
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"I don't..." she sighed, somewhat exasperated by his easy manner. He had no right to look so happy when she was this irritated! Didn't he know that? "At this point I don't even remember. Something about steak and what in the Abyss is going on with you."
She resisted the urge to look at the lightsaber on his belt. She was curious at this point just what this man was all about, but with a smile like that on his face, she didn't want to be caught with her eyes anywhere near his belt.
"Oh, right. Yeah, you owe me dinner. Last time I was here with a friend we ended up at the Dusty Dewback." It was the restaurant she'd eaten at with Saede when the two women had first met. Alema had a strong stomach, so it was hard for her to say whether the food was going to treat Jon kindly, but she reasoned that he was a man and if he were in crippling pain after dinner he'd probably be too proud to show it.
"Food shouldn't kill you. It didn't kill me and I'm not from around here, so it should be fairly foreigner-friendly." She laid down a few credits on the counter to pay for her blue milk bender, and headed for the door, waving to Jon to follow her.
At least we can go someplace I'm vaguely familiar with. He seems okay, and that's probably what's freaking me out the most.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon stood to follow Alema and briefly allowed himself admire the view. He remembered how good she looked in that dress when he saw her on Mygeeto. She was now wearing clothes suited to Tatooine, but even they couldn't completely conceal her delicate feminine curves. Yes, she definitely has an exotic sensuality to her. All in all, a very nice little package.
Jon mentally kicked himself thinking, "Yes, well, that little package has been nicer to you than anyone else in recent memory. If you have a chance to build a friendship with this lady, you are not going to blow it. I'm pretty sure hitting on her would end the evening."
The waitress saw Jon leaving with the twi'lek and gave him a mock pout. Jon grinned and winked at her thinking, "Yes. A guy can always find ways to meet those other needs if he has to. Friends - true friends - are rare. You can't ignore an opportunity to make a new one."
Laughing at himself Jon thought, " Damn! I'm getting philosophical in my old age. I must need a drink!"
Hurrying to catch up, he asked, "Say, Alema. Have you ever heard of a place called U Wanna Wanna?"
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
She turned to wait and let Jon catch up. Fortunately she wasn't quick enough to catch him appraising her form. While she certainly wouldn't have been surprised, it would not have been good for her estimation of this man. It was already a little questionable that he seemed so interested in a bit of her time, and now he was talking about someplace that... sounded like a second-rate gentleman's club.
What the hell kind of place is that? Alema wondered. "Um... no. I haven't. It sounds like the kind of place I take some trouble to avoid."
Jon didn't seem nearly as threatening as the usual guys Alema found lurking in cantinas and alleys around here. The last men she'd encountered in this area had attacked her, and were it not for Saede there would have been nothing Alema could have done about it. Absently she flicked her bracelet on. Didn't hurt to be careful.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"It's apparently a huge outdoor market in Mos Eisley that has anything you could possibly want," Jon replied hurriedly. It seemed Alema may have taken the question wrong and he wanted to defuse that misconception. "According to the papers my father sent me, that's where my ship is stored."
"Hey, Alema. I want to thank you for hanging around this afternoon. You didn't have to and most people wouldn't have." After pausing a moment he continued, "Those confrontations bought me a day or so. Unfortunately there will be another group on my trail soon."
Under his breath he muttered, "She just won't give up."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"It's apparently a huge outdoor market in Mos Eisley that has anything you could possibly want. According to the papers my father sent me, that's where my ship is stored."
Alema chuckled as he explained to her where he was headed. 'lema you really are getting paranoid. This made a good deal more sense, and it wasn't all that surprising to her that she wasn't as familiar with this area. She spent a shocking amount of time here considering how much she disliked it, but that didn't mean she took the trouble to learn it well.
Her curiosity into Jon's problems had been tinged with annoyance since the start, but she paused briefly mid-pace when he thanked her for staying. His openness and sincerity startled her, but were not unappreciated. Alema's training told her that such a pointed reaction was an unnecessary gesture, and she'd nearly prevented herself from making it. If he was manipulating her it would give him cues to her personality and preferences, give him inroads to her good graces. However, if he wasn't and if he really was just a man frantic to escape... something, then he'd need some clues to get along with her, wouldn't he?
She wasn't so hateful that she'd deny a man the information he needed to keep from triggering her defensive annoyance. She knew that men often needed a bit of help to know what they should do. She'd made the mistake with Savin of not immediately rewarding every bit of sincerity he gave her, and as a result she'd very nearly allowed their friendship to fall apart just because she was afraid he'd get to know her a little too well.
No. Alema badly needed to get used to genuine and sincere socialization again. Her better judgment screamed to leave this man to his own devices and not get involved in his problems. He was most assuredly manipulating her to get assistance with whatever kept him running. He'd get close, befriend her, use her, and probably eventually betray her.
But what if he didn't? Alema was so tired of this game.
The Twi'lek gave him a brief, casual smile and waved him off. "It's all right. It's hard enough to be on your own without anything to run from." She shrugged and twitched the end of tchun indecisively. "So, if we sit down to have something to eat, are you going to tell me who they are, Jon?"Edited by: Alema Nilim at: 7/25/07 1:06 pm
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"I... really don't know where to start," Jon began and hesitated, trying to decide if he really wanted to get the little twi'lek involved in his problems. Realizing that simply telling her about them wouldn't necessarily mean she had to be involved, he sighed and continued.
"Those men were sent to capture and return me to a sith who seems to have an unhealthy fascination with me."
He said it casually, almost flippantly; but, he felt his insides twist into a knot as he thought about his lost years.
"It seems when I was in college I attracted the attention of a very powerful, very influential sith. She, for lack of a better word... collects... men that she finds interesting. She had me kidnapped in Coronet City and taken to her citadel on a small private island. I was drugged with glitteryll to induce amnesia and actually forgot all about my life before my time on the island."
Jon paused. Recounting those memories obviously was causing him pain and remorse. He didn't want to seem evasive; however, so he continued.
"First I was trained in hand-to-hand, melee combat and for many months had to fight daily in the training pit. "Alema," He said haltingly, "many of those fights were required to be to-the-death. It was their way of weeding out the weakest."
"After awhile, I graduated I suppose. The hand-to-hand training actually began to include instruction and being taught new techniques. We were considered too valuable to allow to be killed in training, but, that didn't mean we didn't spend many hours in the bacta tanks."
"I was also trained by a sith assassin in the use of various drugs and poisons. The mistress wanted me to be a spy of sorts. She saw me obtaining information she wanted by infiltration and seduction, or if that didn't work by the use of drugs."
Noticing the look Alema was giving him, he added, "Yes, I was expected to target her female enemies or business competition. And...," he faltered momentarily this was the part of his ordeal that actually bothered him the most. "the mistress herself trained me in what she called the arts of seduction."
Jon sighed. He hated to tell Alema the rest, but, what the hell - the worst that could happen would be that she would just laugh at him and leave.
"Alema, despite all the early fight and other training I was really only there for one reason. My primary responsibility was to keep the mistress happy in her boudoir. When it got right down to it, Alema, I was just one of her sex slaves."
Embarrashed, he paused to try to judge her reaction.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"I was drugged with glitteryll to induce amnesia and actually forgot all about my life before my time on the island. ...When it got right down to it, Alema, I was just one of her sex slaves."
Alema kept her breathing even and her pace casual. She didn't reply as they reached the restaurant, not until they were given a table and left alone with menus. She didn't fidget. She didn't glance around to ensure that no one was listening. Alema gazed out the window as if she hadn't even heard Jon, but inside... she was panicking.
What could she tell him? What could she really even say? That it never gets better? That he'd probably spend the rest of his life wondering who was looking at him and why, whether he knew them, whether he'd been ordered to occupy them for a night? That when the memories closed in and threatened to shut him down, sometimes he'd rather die than go another moment without the drugs that would let him forget it all? That he would never... ever... actually belong to himself again?
Alema didn't actually question that he might have been taught something approaching her own childhood lessons. Her parents had never assumed she would need to relate to people any other way, and there had never been any doubt. There'd never been any implication that such a thing was less than honorable. She was a Twi'lek. Much of her culture was built around using charm to get close, get intimate, get whatever one could want.
She didn't question that he'd learned it, but she could see why he would regret it. That wasn't his life, and he hadn't wanted it. Someone else had made the choice for him, and his was a position Alema herself had been in many times.
"Jon," she said quietly. Her voice was low and raw with emotions she couldn't afford to explain to someone she barely knew. "It's funny. Coruscant is no better." Alema fixed her gaze on her view of the street, staring past fingerprints on the window and dust on the road at nothing in particular. She just knew that she couldn't speak to him directly. That would have been far too intimate, and given the topic of conversation she surmised they'd both had enough of that.
"I was sold offworld before I was twenty. My master... wasn't actually a bad guy." She held back a guilty wince at his memory. He hadn't deserved what she'd done to him, to his family. "But eventually I got like a lot of slaves get. Didn't realize how good I had it." She laughed abruptly, the sound breaking some of the tension hanging between her and Jon. "I ran off. I wanted to be a waitress. Can you imagine? That was the most glamorous thing I could think of doing with my life." She snorted and shook her head. Seemed like she'd been so young then. "I was going to wait tables, flirt with customers for tips, have my own place. Maybe an iguana."
She shrugged. "Got picked up one night. Didn't really..." she frowned. "I wasn't really aware of what was going on until a while later. By then..."By then it was far too late. Her tone was casual, and she might as well have been discussing alternate recipes for eopie brisket. "You're right about one thing, though. Glitteryll helps with forgetting. I stayed for what they were giving me because it kept my mind off what I was giving them."
"Although... damndest thing. Was a Sith who got me out." The waitress returned with water for the two patrons while they looked over their menus. "Thanks," Alema told her absently. When she'd disappeared again, Alema turned her eyes back to Jon. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. And for how common it is. I guess I hadn't realized."Edited by: Alema Nilim at: 7/26/07 10:31 am
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Jon was shocked. He hadn't considered the possibility that he would actually meet someone with similar experiences. Being raised in a remote part of a backwater planet like Dantooine, he had lead a protected life and his exposure to other cultures was minimal. He really knew very little about twi'lek life and customs.
He felt bad. He could tell his story had evoked memories Alema would rather forget. It they hurt her like his did him, he really regretted awakening them in her.
"Alema, I'm sorry. I had no idea," Jon began.
"I'm glad someone helped you out. I guess not all sith are evil. Mine happened to be a sociopath that has the power and influence to indulge her whims. When I was first taken she told me that as long as I lived, I belong to her. That haunts me because I know she's crazy enough to keep sending teams - and they'll get stronger and stronger."
Jon ran his finger anound the rim of his water glass seemingly lost in thought for a moment.
"In a way, I wish I had never been rescued." He paused taking a sip of water before continuing. "It cost me a person I loved dearly."
Taking the lightsabre hilt from his belt and placing it on the table he continued, "This belonged to her. She came to rescue me and was killed during our escape. I....."
Jon's voice broke with emotion. "She was wonderful. I wasn't worth her sacrificing her life."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Alema reached across the table toward the lightsaber, grazing it delicately with her fingertips. So it wasn't his after all.
Why do so many people get caught up in these damned battles for supremacy between the Sith and the Jedi? There are always losses on both sides, and they're not always the people directly involved.
She drew her hand away and rested her chin on her palm. "Jon, listen to me," she said firmly. "You owe her a lot. She... did something important for you." She remembered Theo finding her crouched in a darkened side street, snatching a syringe from her unsteady hands. "And there's always a price to pay for that, I guess." Alema's hadn't been nearly as heavy from that point of view. Sure, Theo was gone, but who was the one suffering here? Alema, who'd found solace with a stranger and eventually found her way after long years alone to a ship and crew she could rely on? Or Jon, who might never stop running?
If it was worth it to her, he has no right to disagree, she thought. But the worst tragedy of all would be for her death to be for nothing.
Alema made a decision.
"So, Jon... what do you do? Aside from what you've told me."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"So, Jon... what do you do? Aside from what you've told me."
What do I do? Besides being trained to kill. Beside being trained to drug or poison? Besides.. the other things she taught me? What - do - I do?
Before this all started, he was being groomed to be the director of Burke Enterprises; but, that wasn't an option now and didn't add anything to a resume. More basically, he had a degree and a pilots certificate. Of all his skills, perhaps being a pilot would be his most marketable.
"Well, Alema, I received a degree in Advanced Starship Engineering at Corellia University. It's all just theory, though, as I never had the opportunity to work in my field. Along the way, I got a pilots certificate and have flown most common small to medium civilian spacecraft. I guess if I - do - anything these days - it's fly. I do love flying."
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon"I don't know how interested you are in using the skills you learned with her," Alema said slowly. "Ryma'at knows I don't when I can help it. But..."
Alema couldn't help but smile. This was where she and Saede had first had a discussion along these lines, and for her own amusement, she called her words to mind.
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
Was it so unlikely that she'd fall in with such notorious criminals? "Well, no... not... directly." She smirked and took a sip of her water. "Do I look like I join boarding parties and ransack the possessions and livelihoods of the innocent to you?" She adopted a somewhat saintly posture, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on her knuckles. "No. I'm just the comms officer."
Re: Begging the Captain's PardonOOC: Alema, sorry for the delay. My computer at home quit on me and I just returned to work tonight (I work 7 on - 7 off)
IC:
"No. I'm just the comms officer."
The comms officer of the Crimson Ferret's Revenge, thought Jon. Damn, she is a pirate.
He gave her a contemplative look, his eyebrow arched quizzically. Did he want to ask the question? Was he ready to commit to a life of piracy? It wouldn't exactly be a sanctuary; but, moving around with the pirates on the CFR would make it difficult for the hunters to track him and even harder for them to try to take him, if he had a ship full of mates watching his back. It would be nice to have allies. ...and he would need a means to earn some credits soon.
Smiling ruefully he asked, "So, Lady Pirate, could you guys use another pilot?"
Re: Begging the Captain's Pardon
((OOC: For the record, whenever you want to call this thread finished, just go ahead and edit the word "Complete" into the title of the thread. I'll move it to the archives and you can go on to do the Super Epic Piracy.))
"Well, Jon, yeah. That was the idea."
After she'd nearly gotten kidnapped on Tatooine, a member of the Revenge had bailed her out. After she'd nearly gotten killed on Myrkr, she'd somehow ended up connected with the ship again. They'd given her a place when she had none, and even though they didn't have to do so, Saede and the captain had found something for her to do that suited her. Alema didn't have much patience for social obligations or the expectation that she pass on what good fortune she'd been given. On the other hand, she could tell it would bother her if she knew that this man had nowhere to go.
"So what do you say we track down that ship you came for, and we'll head back to the Revenge. You can talk to the first mate, a woman named Saede Taggart if you haven't met her, and she'll find something for you to do. If you want to be a pilot, maybe talk to Nathaniel." It wasn't until Alema started listing names that she realized the level of connections she'd made.
And to think, I thought I'd left that social networking and maneuvering behind... she mused.
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