Flight of the 'Toria Chapter 1

[lowell]

Flight of the 'Toria
Chapter 1


Scanlon Station
Drifter's Tavern


"You know ... if you keep pacing like that, and I'll have to charge you for a new carpet."

Grace O'Malley stopped in mid-stride and frowned. K'ran Koreyalis, owner and bartender of Drifters, interstellar tavern and renown establishment of Scanlon Station shifted her glance from her friend to the floor. Grace glanced down at her leather boots. There actually was a tread in the rug.

"Right. Sorry," said the attractive Archaen redhead with a Cirrillian brogue. "Nervous energy."

Adjusting her uniform jacket and Razor Epee sheathed at her side the young Captain sat down at the floating halo shaped bar and picked up her cup of Churning Smoke tea. Above them the branches of the bar's Bone Tree glowed with new buds, while the room's halo mural displayed the mauve sand dune and mountain ranges of the Arcanum Desert stretching as far as the eye could see.

"I only recently posted my ad for a crew and ... "

She sipped her tea.

"... and let's face it -- I don't wait well. Never have. If I'm not going somewhere, then I'm coming back. I hate being between."

"You hate being restless," observed K'ran. She removed her customer's mug.

"Plus, being on you sixth cup of Smoke probably isn't helping."

Grace winced.

"Righty-right. Take it away." She beckoned with a hand.

K'ran did and when she returned she sat at the bar opposite
her friend and passed her a tankard of Brace water.

"You sure this is what you want to do?" asked the former S'aba warrior and professional bartender. "If you ask me ... "

"Please," warned Grace with a raised hand. "Don't mention Jan's name. Things between us were just too -- "

"Complicated?" ventured K'ran. Grace nodded.

"I need this venture to clear my head. I need to get back on my feet, with the stars in my eyes and the stellar wind at my back."

K'ran smiled.

"You sound just like your father," said the S'abaen. Grace rested her chin on the palm of her opened hand and half lifted her drink.

"My father the poet, or my father the interstellar merchant?"

"Both. He'd be proud at what you're doing, but he just wish you were -- "

"Captain?' called a frail voice behind her. Grace whirled, her Torpedo blaster half pulled from her holster.

"Gael? What the devil are you doing here? I told you to remain
on board." She slide her weapon back.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

From the shadows a petite sixteen year old human girl emerged with closely cropped bobbed hair.

"It's just ... I've never been to Scanlon Station before. I ... I wanted a look around. Beside, Jac is with me."

She looked above her where a small metallic chrome sphere floated. The W.A.S.P security-bot chirped a series of playful notes.

Grace stood with a strict expression on her face, but it didn't last.

"All right," she said with a sigh. "I suppose it was unfair to ask you to remain on board, but as my new yeoman and Communications Specialist you should have informed me of your intentions."

Gael's features sunk.

"I'm sorry, Captain. It ... it won't happen again."

Grace patted the stool next to her.

"See that it doesn't. Ship secure, I take it?"

"Yes, Captain. All automated systems were online when we left. "

The yeoman sat and smiled at K'ran.

"May I have a mug of Churning Smoke tea?" she asked in perfect S'abaen. K'ran quirked a charcoal black eyebrow. She was impressed.

"You may not," said Grace sternly. "A tankard of Brace water will be fine for now, young lady."

"Coming up," said the bartender. She left to get another mug.

"Now ... sit up straight and look alive. Any moment now I expect a new member of our crew to come walking through that door."

As one the two women turned and wait. Above them Jac hummed and floated in a lazy circle.

(calling all and any crew members -- post your intros.)

[lowell]

Flight of the 'Toria
Chapter 2


The J'Alel Empire
Well of Execution

One week earlier ...



"Prisoner you have heard the charges. Do you have anything to say?" asked the voice in the dark.

Klaven Surr, thief, murderer and pirate raised his bruised face and spat into the open darkness. Above him his arms extend above his head where they were shackled by force chains that extended upward into the fathomless gloom. His feet dangled inches from the bone strewn floor.

"So be it," pronounced the faceless voice. "Let your sentence be carried out."

A spot light snapped on meters in front of him illuminating a simple wood stained cabinet. The doors to the armoire were opened revealing its contents - three sheathed Ca'Tarssa blades. Surr, a pirate all his life who had faced death on more occasions than a man would have a daily meal, had remained fearless in his condemned state ... until now. Approaching footsteps echoed in the dark with a distinctive drum.

Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click.

The footfalls stopped and a silhouetted form entered the light. Surr felt his bladder tighten. A gloved hand with delicate fingers brushed back and fourth across the pummels of the blades with the patients of a surgeon selecting his tools. It stopped and hovered over the middle sword. Soundlessly the blade was drawn and Surr saw a flash of starlight as the meson edged blade of gravity compressed Tantalum steel was held expertly in a gauntlet covered hand. The swordsman turned towards the pirate and walked with a slight uneven gait.

"Thank you for this opportunity," said a tenor voice that was devoid of any emotion. "The chance to test my blades on a living person is the greatest chance to prove their readiness."

Surr tried to still his racing heart.

"Black Tomm," leveled the pirate. "Betrayer! You were once one of us! Mark me ... one day it will be you here to -- "

"Please be quiet," said the Swordsman. "I will be performing the Kan JI -- the test cut. Yours will be from shoulder to waist."

The Swordsman set his legs into an expert stance and exhaled a cleansing breath. His eyes, as flat and black as an ebony coin, showed no warmth as the gleaming sword was lifted above his head.

"Ha!" Surr began to laugh in the last moments of his life. "Had I known that I would have eaten stones to spoil your -- "

His body flinched, and the pirate blinked. He felt nothing, then a slow welling heat spread across his body. Tomm simply turned and walked way, wiping his blade with a sheet of Gree paper before he returned the sword to its sheath and closed his armoire. Behind him Surr had no voice to scream as his arms worked to hold his body together. He failed. In a sickening sound the suction of his body splitting in twain filled the Execution Well followed by another.

In a liquid plop the piratre's innards were added to the bone heap below his dangling feet.

"Well done, Master Tomm," praised a voice in the dark. A single applause directed the Swordsman to the voice. High Praetor Senex Ves walked into the beam of light above the weapons armoire.

"High Praetor," replied Tomm. Pressing the two finger of his hands to his brow above his eyes the Executioner bowed.

"This is most unexpected ... especially in these grim surroundings."

The Swordsman's hand gestured to the remnants of death around them. Ves nodded, moved closer and lowered his voice to a conspirator's tone.

"I required some privacy, and what better place than here for the task I have for you."

"Oh?" said Tom, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity. Within the black folds of his Praetor' cloak he withdrew a Data-scroll. Tomm receive it and unrolled a length of nano-parchment. His eyes narrowed as he read, then drew wide. Ves's thin bloodless lips pulled into a razor thin line - his smile.

"This is your target, and your set of instructions."

Tomm rolled the scroll and placed it in a concealed pocket within his own cloak.

"Where and when?" asked the Executioner.

"Scanlon station. You leave tonight."

Scrape. Click. Scrape. Click. The Executioner moved back his cabinet and selected two blades.

"And Tomm," called out the Praetor behind him. "Failure is not an option here."

The blades were secure to his waist by a worn leather belt. Tomm's grin was as sharp as his blades.

"It never is."

[stilcho]

Flight of the 'Toria
Chapter 3


Scanlon Station
Drifter's Tavern


The door to the tavern swung open as a large man stepped into the room looking around as he examined the Bone Tree surrounded by the desert. He seemed impressed, half turning around to glance at the edge of the holo where the desert met the corridor outside. Nodding slightly as the door closed behind him, he turned back to the main room with a smile before striding towards the bar, adjusting the small pistol strapped to his leg as he moved.

Walking up to the three women he faced K’ran, “I’m Grend Gateman, I was told I could find a Grace O’Malley here regarding the first officer position on her ship.” He watched Grace out of the corner of his eye with a half smile on his face, “Do you think you could direct me to her?”

Reaching back he adjusted the hand and a half sword strapped to his back as he sat down at the bar, “and while you’re at it, if you could get me a milk, I’d appreciate that.”

[lowell]

Flight of the 'Toria
Chapter 3


Scanlon Station
Drifter's Tavern

K’ran smiled and finished drying off a clean glass and placed it on the bar. She hooked her chin towards the Archaen redhead sitting across from her.

"This would be Captain O'Mally, Mr. Gatemen. I'll leave you two alone to conduct your business. I'll be back with your milk."

WIth that the bartender picked up a tray of clean mugs and tankards and headed for the galley.

Grace crossed her legs as she rested an elbow on the bar and glanced up appreciatively at her new candidate. Behind her she could hear Gael rocking her own leg bent at the knee.

"Sit up straight, Miss Gael," whispered Grace behind her without looking back. "And please ... curb your verve. You're an officer on my ship and not a star-struck schoolgirl."

Behind her the sixteen year old set her legs together and did her best to suppress her wide eyed stare. Above her Jac, her W.A.S.P security bot hovered silently. Satisfied the Merchant Captain came to her feet.

"Mr. Gateman, I am Captain Grace O'Malley of the SS Victoria. For the now you may address me as ma'am or Captain. I presume you can submit your credentials and references later? Right let's have a look at you then."

With that Grace stood and paced around the tall man.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Gateman and why I should take you on as my First Off -- "

The door to the tavern opened and for moment Grace was confused as to why the outer corridor light was blocked out a thick dark shape. The shape moved and strolled in, nearly seven feet in height, and half that in width. Her hand strayed to her Blaster as she watched the scared face of the Razorback Skrufa tread directly towards her.

"You!" roared the creature as it pointed a cloven hand with two flexible digits at her. It's dark gray bristly face held two beady eyes that looked like beads of oil. Jagged tusk punctuated either side of its long muzzle that ended in an upturned snout. Leather bandoliers criss-crossed its muscular chest where a heavy belt held a pulse blaster, and a massive Kanabō - a heavy Stonewood club with iron spikes and studs running up two thirds its length. ShatterHammer was it name. Thick heavy boots completed his outfit. Stopping a pace away from Grace he leered down at her as his heavy snout flared.

"You think you can leave without paying your protection fee,
Archaen rat?"

Grace turned her back on the racketeer and returned to her seat.

"Not at all, Tobias," she said. "I was simply planning on leaving. I have no intention of paying for your protection fee ... ever."

Captain and thug stared at one another for several tense moments. then Tobias' jagged tusk cut into a crooked leer.

"Heh. You're playing a dangerous game, Archaen. Without my protection ... I'd hate to see anything happen to your precious ship ... or ... "

His eyes landed on Gael with a lusty leer.

"... any of your crew."

Grace placed herself between the Skrufa and her Communications Specialist. Her Sabersaw was out in a lash and aimed straight for the creature's heart.

"Listen, and listen wisely, Mr. Tobias," she said between clinched teeth. "I don't take kindly to threats, and I don't take kindly to bullies, especially one as repugnant and smelly as you. I have refused your offer, and so our business is concluded. I bid you good day."

The Skrufa's maw stretched wider exposing a row of crooked yellow teeth - his smile.

"You don't seem to understand, O'Malley. I don't take 'no' for an answer."

His hand went for his pulse blaster.

KA-BOOM!

K'ran stood at the far end of the bar and lowered the smoking end of her antique S'abaen Rifle. On the bar nearby was a single glass of milk.

"Gentleman. Ladies. Tobias ... you know the rules ... no energy weapons in my tavern. You want to fight ... so be it. Loser pays the
damages."

Tobias's eyes burned with fury.

"Fair enough."

His other hand gripped the thick shaft of his Kanabō, unclipped the weapon from his belt and hefted it high above his head.

"Mr. Gatemen ..." began Grace in a low voice. "Any assistance would be greatly appreciated. In fact, help me dispatch this pirate and the position is yours."

[lowell]

Flight of the 'Toria
Chapter 3


Scanlon Station
Drifter's Tavern


Grend watched Tobias cautiously as they spoke, slowly sliding his hand to his pistol.

"Mam!" He moved quickly with her command. He let go of the pistol, instead drawing his sword in a two handed grip as he shifted around Grace, swinging the sword up over her head, catching Tobias's Kanabo beneath one of the spikes, stopping it's downward plunge with a grunt.

"Not so fast there, Ugly." He twisted, bringing his sword down, causing the Kanabo to slam into the ground with a crash before the weapons were freed of each other, "you're not going to force me to cut you down over some petty cash are you?"

Tobias roared, as he yanked his club from the hole in the floor, sending it up in a powerful backhand towards Grend, "Damn scum! You'll pay one way or the other!"

Grend brought his sword back up quickly in one hand, blocking the club and skidding backwards from the force, "Fine, that's what I thought." He shook his arm after the shock of the blow as he backed away from the bar, facing Tobias, "I haven't faced anything as ugly as you since the last time I was boar hunting back home, so lets make this quick shall we?" He flashed a grin as he took his sword back in a two handed grip. He continued slowly shifting to the side, drawing Tobias' fuming attention from the women at the bar.

Grace caught the man's intention and shifted in the opposite way, hoping to find an opening to finish the fight quickly. If only she were so lucky.

Tobias moved, twitching his muscles with a speed that seemed hardly possible for a being his size. With a feral growl he swung his battle club downward, using it like a mallet to hit a ball in the ancient game of Kro-kay, only instead it was a heavy wooden chair that was batted at Grend with all speed of a flung javlin. Not waiting to see if his tactic worked the Razorback twisted around in a full circle and smashed his Kanabo with furious speed straight at Grace's skull. The Archaen flipped backwards, evading the strike by a hand's width, but the tactic cost her her balance (and blade) as the Merchant Captain crashed head onto a cluster of tables and chairs and sprawled across the floor.

Tobias pounced, rearing his war club over his head for an unerring death blow. His war cry shattered all the glasses on the bar. He never made it.

Jac smashed into the Razorbacks snout with all the speed the spherical W.A.S.P Bot could muster, cracking gristle and bone on impact. Blood exploded across the Razorback's face and brow, blinded he howled in pain and swung his Kanabo with berserker rage as Jac buzzed around him like his namesake.

"YOU BLOODY KAQ'KS! I'll KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

His voice bellowed with fury and Grace could se he meant it once he had his sight back.

"Captain!" Gael's tiny voice cried out in the mayhem. Grace had nearly forgotten about her young Yeoman, and Communication's Specialist. She was directly behind Tobias, but doing wha ---

Tonias spun. He heard her too.

*NO!* Grace scrambled to her feet as time seemed to unravel in slow motion. She screamed for Grend to come to Gael's aid. Tobias batted Jac away with one hand and swung his club down towards the young sixteen year old girl. Grend was racing for the Razorback just as Grace was too, but she could already see they would be too late.

*Ishtar -- NO!*

Gael stood holding her Captain's unsheathed Sabersaw, blade extended with both her hands. She stood frozen with fear, eyes closed as the massive Skrufa's shadow flattened over her. Grace saw Gael go down with one last act of defiance as she lunged forward. Suddenly, Tobias' legs tripped on a broken clutch of chairs. The racketeer crashed down in an avalanche of flailing limbs and a bellow of panic.

The echoing 'boom' faded into silence. Grace closed her eyes.

***

"... Grace ... "

The Archaen merchant realized K'ran was standing next to her -- calling her name.

"GRACE!"

The Captain blinked. She had been rooted in a moment of shocked powerlessness. The Drifter's bartender tugged at her gloved hand.

"We ... we need to get her out."

Blinking again, she noticed Grend standing near the still Razorback. Already a pool of blood was welling out from underneath. Grace fell to her knees.

"Oh ... Gael," she whispered in a plaintive voice.

Holding back her tears she helped to roll over Tobias. The thugs' lifeless eyes stared up at the drifting clouds of the tavern's holo ceiling. Her Sabersaw was deeply embedded in his chest. Clinching her jaw she prepared herself to gaze upon Gael's body next.

"CAP-TAIN!"

Jac's electronic voice had a touch of awe, and even -- she looked in Gael's direction -- a hint of hope. The Yeoman lay curled in a fetal position, eyes tightly closed, but it was evident for all to see that she was breathing.

"GODDESS!"

Grace cradled the young girl in her arm.

"Don't EVER do that again, young lady!" sneered the Archaen through a haze of tears. "Do you understand!"

Gael opened her eyes with a fragile smile and nodded.

"Aye, Captain," she managed. Grace looked her over.

"Are ... are you all right?"

Gael nodded again and drew her legs under her.

"Yes, but ... "

She glanced at Tobias.

"He really, REALLY smells!"

Grace cried out a laugh.

"Aye that,"

CLANK!

K'ran lowered her remote pad aimed at the Tavern's main doors.

"I've closed the bar, but ... "

The S'aba warrior and professional bartender looked back at the three (four if you counted Tobias' corpse, and five if you counted Jac)

" ... you three need to go."

"I know," said Grace, coming to her feet with Gael. Striding over to the Razorback she wrench her blade free. She continued,

"And you'll have to report this to the station's security force."

"Aye. And when they release the bar's security cam footage, everyone will know who killed Tobias," finished K'ran.

"MIS-TRESS GAEL WAS ACT-ING IN SELF DE-FENSE," chimed in Jac. The W.A.S.P was slightly dented, but still able to fly.

"Doesn't matter." K'ran shrugged. "Once word get's out about Tobias' death, his clan will claim right of vendetta."

The bartender's eyes fell upon Gael. The sixteen year old would soon be marked by the Black Touch.

"Grace ... it's no longer safe for you her on Scanlon. For all of you."

Her gaze fell upon the group once more. The Archaen nodded with a heavy thought.

"I know. Mr. Gatemen, thank you for your help. As I promised before, the post is yours. Given what's coming, I think it might be best if you came with us, rather than remain here."

She looked at the tavern's doors then back at him.

"A price on one's head is never an easy thing, but I give you my word ... I will do everything in my power to lift it."