A Space Odyssey - Boy Trouble (repost - on)

Author's Note: The topic seemed to beg for this story to resurface. It's a little short story I did early on in my writing of the Odyssey. It features one of the more disliked/hated/annoying characters in the game. It's been a bit spruced up for content and flow, but I think it's still solid.

Also, look for an original Ody short coming soon. Featuring another character!

Historian Note: The events chronicled occur nearly three years before the Odyssey.

Disclaimers: Adult content. Also a bit long.

 


Boy Trouble

Reclining in her chair, a petite redhead dressed in a low cut yellow blouse and black leather pants and boots surveyed the other patrons of the Silvered Monkey. It was late enough that there was a good crowd in the bar this evening, over half the tables full and most of the bar stools as well. Waitresses wended their way through the tables, dropping off drinks and scooping coin. Two Darvonins were on stage, playing a rather calming melody on their instruments; wooden contraptions that looked something like the bastard child of an alphorn and guitar but sounded very pleasant.

She sipped at her drink, savoring the sweetness of her favorite luxury. Real rum, real lime juice, and most importantly, real strawberries. Her daiquiri nearly finished, she waved to Ilana, her waitress, and ordered another of Belham’s sector famous strawberry daiquiris. Ilana jotted down the order with a smile and jetted off towards the bar.

It was then that the redhead noticed her. The Monkey wasn’t the most disreputable bar on Riatavan station, but it certainly was a spacer bar with all the associated rough edges and people. And the slim auburn haired woman hiding in one of the corner booths did not belong to the spacer set. She was dressed in the standard spacer uniform of heavy jacket, cargo pants and boots, but a moment’s study showed the clothing to be too high of quality and in too good of condition, especially the boots, the black leather still gleaming. And it wasn’t just the clothes that gave her away, but the hair and fingers also showed the signs of recent pampering, despite attempts to disguise them. She reeked of high class and big money slumming amongst the spacer crowd.

She’s some rich girl hanging out in a spacer bar, trying to blend in. she thought, shifting in her chair so that she could better observe the young woman without being seen. Sipping at her drink, she indulged in idle speculation as to what this slumming rich girl was doing in the Monkey. Maybe she’s here to meet a secret lover? Or maybe she’s running away from her wicked family? Or.. she’s just one of those rich girls who likes to pick up ‘exciting’ guys.

Ilana returned to her table at that moment, a smile on her beautiful face and a tall glass brimming with that strawberry concoction she loved so well. As she bent over to place the glass on her table, the redhead leaned forward and asked, “Ilana, you know who that girl in the corner booth is?”

Ilana tossed a well-practiced surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the booth. “Nope Im. Never seen her before.” The slim blonde smiled wickedly. “But she is a cutie. Course, if you’re looking for that kinda company, Immy baby, I’d be happy to supply.”

“Sorry Ilana,” Imoen replied with a friendly smile, “Not gonna convert, not even for your cute tush. Plus, you know what’s my speed.”

“I know Immy.” Ilana said with a faux sad face. The slight frown vanished with a knowing wink and a saucy smile. “He is a hot one. Almost enough to make me convert.”

“You?” Imoen asked mock incredulously.

“Yeah. So you better snag him before I decide to make him mine.” Her smile became even more wicked. “Because you know you can’t possibly compete against me in the seduction department.”

“I’ve had plenty of training,” Imoen replied, playing her part in their little play.

“Yeah, but baby, I’ve got the experience.” Ilana retorted with a playful wink. Both women shared a laugh before Ilana asked seriously, “So do you want me to see what I can find out, or is this just idle curiosity run amok?”

“Just curiosity Ilana. Just saw her and wondered what was up.”

“She does stick out like a sore thumb. You sure you don’t want the scoop if I can get it?”

“Nah.”

“Fair enough. You change your mind or need anything, just wave.” Ilana answered. Then the silk clad blonde sashayed away to the next table and left Imoen alone with her thoughts. Picking up the fresh daiquiri, she took a deep, satisfying gulp of frozen strawberry bliss and then settled back into people watching as she waited for her dinner companion.

A few minutes passed and Imoen had nearly managed to forget the out of place redhead, her attention drawn to a very publicly affectionate couple. Her amusement with the young, amorous couple was interrupted by the precipitous drop in volume of both music and chatter in the bar. Looking up, she saw the cause. It was two men who had just strode into the Monkey. Two men who most certainly did not belong in a spacer bar.

The first was a young man with brown hair and handsome face if not for the thin lips and cold eyes. That wasn’t so unusual. It was his clothes that were. He was dressed in a charcoal silk suit that was cut in the latest fashion. It even almost managed to cover the telltale lump of a pistol grip sticking out from under his left arm. The man’s clothing and carriage just screamed wealth and privilege.

The well-dressed man’s companion screamed something else. The heavy set, dark haired man moved with the measured gait of a professional. The dark suit he wore screamed Diplomatic Service, but the cut was too modern for an actual government employee. Most likely he was former DS who took a job in the private sector for the better pay and fewer restrictions.

Putting her daiquiri down on the table, Imoen watched as the two men scanned the crowd, obviously looking for someone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the redhead she’d noticed earlier trying to sink deeper into her booth. Eyebrow arching, Imoen thought So it looks like she’s trying to hide from Mr. Fancypants. Wonder why?

As she speculated, the dark suited bodyguard spotted the redheaded woman hiding in the booth. Pointing her out to his employer, the two men strode towards the booth. The big bodyguard stopped a few feet short of the booth, turning to stare at the crowd which seemed at the time less restive and more interested in the live theatre that threatened to break out.

Meanwhile, the brown haired man walked right over to the booth and leaned over the seat, glaring at its red haired occupant. Imoen was close enough that she could hear the man speak, his tone unpleasantly unctuous. “Ahh, there you are my dear. I was wondering where you had run off to. I should have figured you’d make for the nearest dreg bar you could find. Now, it’s time to come home, dear. Shall we?”

“No.” replied the redhead in the booth defiantly. “I have no wish to go home with you.”

The brown haired man smiled. It was a distinctly unpleasant smile. “Be that as it may, dear, you are my wife and I will not have my wife associating with riff raff and trash. It reflects badly upon me.” The voice dropped some of its unctuousness in favor of steel. “Now, why don’t you be a good little girl and come along before I get angry.”

“I am not a little girl and I have no intention of leaving with you!” the redhead snarled.

“That is where you are wrong, dear. You are my wife, and you will come with me if you know what is good for you,” the man growled, hand gripping the back of the booth tightly. His voice now coldly threatening, he extended his hand to the redhead. “Now, for the last time, shall we leave?”

“I will do no such thing, Isaea. And you can’t make me!”

“Do you really think these people really care what I do? Do you think these spacers are going to leap to your defense just because you decided to dress like them?” Isaea laughed mockingly. “Oh you stupid naïve little wench. You really think that there is some sort of great camaraderie amongst these rabble like you see on the vids. How delightfully pathetic.” Voice now icy, he extended his hand again and demanded. “Now get up before I decide to get cross.”

The redhead was backing away from the furious man and his outthrust hand. Still defiant, she shot back, “I don’t care what you think, you disgusting pig, but I will not go back. I’m leaving you. You’ve got my father’s money and companies but you will not keep me. You’ll not lay another hand on me again. Go back to your sluts and leave me be.”

“You will not embarrass me further, you little wench,” growled Isaea. He lunged forward and gripped the woman by the arm and began dragging her out of the booth. The woman fought, kicking out and hanging onto the table, but Isaea was relentless, slowly pulling her out from the safety of the booth.

Imoen watched this unfolding scene in silence, much like the rest of the bar. She didn’t want to get involved in what was technically someone else’s affair. Especially someone wealthy. However, once this man Isaea began physically dragging his wife from the booth Imoen decided enough was enough. Even if she wasn’t well armed, she wasn’t going to let this continue.

Glaring at Isaea from her perch a few tables away, Imoen called out, her voice utterly calm despite the anger that burned in her belly. “Mister, I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

Half turning to look at the seated speaker, Isaea growled, “What?”

“I said,” Imoen replied, speaking slowly and carefully enunciating as if talking to the mentally impaired, “I don’t think that she wants to go with you.”

Glaring at Imoen while he fought with his wife, Isaea barked, “Did I ask for your opinion, spacer? No. Now why don’t you crawl back in your bottle and stay out of the affairs of your betters.”

One red eyebrow arched precipitously. “My betters, huh? Well, I’ll certainly remember to stay out of the affairs of anyone I think is my better. Thanks for the advice. Now, why don’t you let go of the woman’s arm and leave her alone.”

Letting go of his wife’s arm, Isaea turned to face her. Lip curled in a sneer, he deadpanned, “Oh how droll. It seems this piece of space garbage has a bit of wit in her skull. I’m frankly astonished. I didn’t know that docking bay hookers were so well educated.”

“What did you just call me?” growled Imoen, her control of her anger slipping.

Smiling broadly, he replied, “I called you a pathetic little tramp. An empty headed trollop that spends her days slurping spacer scum and her nights sucking down cheap drinks in a dive, looking for another pathetic loser to screw for a few credits.” The smile widened, showing teeth. “Now, I strongly recommend that you shut that dirty little mouth of yours and stay out of my affairs or I’ll shut it for you. And when I’m done, the only tricks you’ll turn will be men too desperate or blind to care that they’re screwing a toothless whore.”

Mouth twisted in rage, Imoen leapt to her feet, sending her chair crashing to the ground behind her. “Big words for a man who can’t even keep his wife from running off to spacer bars for satisfaction. You’re probably the same here as you are in the sack - just a whole lotta noise and very little else.”

“Enough of this,” the suited man growled. “Andre, give this dockside strumpet a lesson in manners.”

“With pleasure sir,” replied the big bodyguard as he dramatically cracked his knuckles.

“Big bad Isaea can’t even take on little ol’ me?” Imoen sassed with sugary sweetness. “He’s gotta send in a flunky to take care of business? You gotta do the same thing in the bedroom too I bet. No wonder your wife wants nothing to do with you.”

“Make it a very thorough lesson Andre. It seems this one desperately needs to know her place in the order of things.”

The big bodyguard strode towards Imoen, patrons scattering out of his path, most heading for the exits, some of the more diehard moving to locations that provided a better view. Closing the short distance rapidly and shoving aside a wayward customer, Andre reached under his jacket and withdrew a long, black stun rod. He thumbed the activation switch and a corona of bluish energy began to crackle around its top. Gripping it tightly in one hand, he said, “If you were smart, you’d start running now.”

Imoen stood her ground, hands balled on her hips and eyes ablaze. “And if I were you, I’d hope that my insurance was paid up.”

Stopping just outside of arm’s reach, Andre looked the enraged Imoen up and down and then laughed derisively. “Right. Little slip of a girl like you. I’ll remind you of that when you’re scrabbling on the ground, looking for your teeth.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever.” Imoen gave Andre a big toothy smile. As she did, she snapped her right wrist just so, triggering the spring for the hold out blaster tucked into her sleeve. She swung her arm up like a scythe, the tiny blaster gripped firmly in her hand. Imoen saw the light of recognition flash in his eyes just before she fired. The bolt took him squarely in the right eye, dropping him like a stone.

She flicked her eyes down at the body of Andre and shrugged. The stench of charred electronics overwhelmed the smell of burnt flesh. There was blood, yes, but only a little. Poking out from the torn flesh was a mass of scorched wiring and shattered crystals. Kneeling down, she pulled the handkerchief from the droid’s suit pocked and fished around in the hole in the eye socket with her free hand. A second later, she pulled her hand free, a large chip clasped firmly between her fingers. Looking at the serial number, she let out a low whistle. “An RK-712? With what looks like an aftermarket behavior chip slapped in. You really did go for the top-of-the-line model there Isaea.” Tossing the chip and handkerchief away, she stood and smiled, “You really shouldn’t have bothered with those aftermarket chips though, they really frell the logic systems.”

Isaea’s mouth worked wordlessly as he stared uncomprehendingly at the ruins of his droid. However, he did show signs of some combat training as his hand darted under his suit coat, seeking his holstered blaster. He had barely eased it out of the holster before Imoen had her blaster aimed right at him. She shook her head and admonished, “Now now Isaea, let’s not be too hasty. I don’t think your cranium’s stuffed with wiring and I’d hate to make another mess.”

Isaea blinked rapidly and stared at the blaster pointed at his head and the angry redhead holding it. “You.. you shot my bodyguard!”

Imoen smiled viciously. “Glad to see you have a grasp of current events chucklehead. Now, you’re going to ease that blaster out nice and slow and lay it on the deck. Then you’re going to kick it over to me. Any deviation, and I blow your ugly snout faced head right off. Got it?”

Isaea nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s have that blaster of yours. Put it on the floor, nice and slow and then kick it over.”

Blaster trained on his head, Isaea very slowly drew his pistol from under his jacket, making sure to keep his finger clear of the guard. He bent down slowly, resting the blaster on the barroom floor and then stood at the gesture of Imoen’s gun. All the while, he kept his eyes on Imoen’s, looking for a hint of mercy or weakness in those burning blue eyes. Seeing none, he kicked the pistol over towards Imoen, the blaster skidding across the floor and coming to a stop just inches in front of her feet. A flick of the eyes told her that while it was an expensive weapon, it was also useless to her. The bioscan pads on the grip showed the weapon was biocoded, only usable by the person the weapon whose genetic structure was coded to it. Still, there was sufficient enough charge in her holdout to more than handle the situation.

Discarding Isaea’s blaster as useless, she said, “Good. You keep behaving and keep that filthy mouth shut and we’ll all be happy.”

Wisely, he remained silent. Thankful for small gifts, Imoen turned her attention to the prig’s wife. The red haired woman still sat in the booth, eyes wide. Imoen couldn’t tell if it was from shock or admiration and settled on a combination of the two. Cocking her head slightly to the side, she said, “Hey Red. What’s your name?”

“Me?” the red haired woman asked in a trembling voice, as she touched a hand to her chest.

“No, the bartender, you insipid little wench. Now say nothing to this brigand,” growled Isaea, his tongue and his courage returning. “I will handle this.”

“Isaea,” Imoen admonished. “I thought I told you to close that yap. You don’t want to end up like Andre, do you?”

Isaea sneered but remained silent.

“Alright, Red, since Mr. Manners here has graciously decided to shut his piehole, I’ll ask again. What’s your name?”

“Nalia.” Nalia turned to look at her husband, her face dark. “Nalia de Arnise.”

Imoen couldn’t keep an evil smirk off of her face, especially when she saw the color rise in Isaea’s cheeks. A quick jerk of her pistol kept his mouth thankfully closed. “Well, Ms de Arnise, I understand that you want to leave this disgusting pile of filth. Understandable. I’ve only just met him and I feel the need for a shower.”

Bitterness was writ large on Nalia’s face. “Try being married to this.. this thing for the last two years. Two wonderfully terrible years.”

“To be honest, I’d rather not,” replied Imoen sympathetically. “But I think I can help you with the separation. Since this isn’t exactly the court system here, we’ve got to.. even things up. So I’m gonna need you to help me out here. Feel up to it?”

“The gun isn’t coded to me either, miss,” answered Nalia in a tone so frank that even Imoen felt a slight chill. Isaea positively blanched.

“No no. If it comes to that, me and Mr. Bang Bang can take care of poor lil’ Isaea.”

“You think you can kill me and get away with it you, disgusting little wench? In a room full of witnesses?” demanded Isaea.

Turning her head slightly towards the bartender Belham, she asked, “Belly? You see anything untoward going on here?”

“So long as my furniture isn’t damaged, I don’t see a damn thing. Amazing thing about my eyesight. My doc just can’t seem to do a thing about it,” answered Belham as he studiously polished a glass.

Imoen turned her full attention back to the blustering man and smiled wickedly. Isaea’s sneer only slipped marginally, but the man was still decidedly cocky. At least he was smart enough to be quiet. Imoen flicked her eyes over at Nalia and said, “As I was about to say, I need you to do something else for me. I need you to empty his pockets. Cash, credit chits, identicard and anything else valuable.” Smiling at Isaea, she added, “A newly liberated woman needs some walking around money, doesn’t she? Oh, and Isaea baby, you try a damn thing and I’ll shoot you. So just let the lady do her work.”

“With pleasure,” answered a smiling Nalia. The slim woman slid out from her booth and purposefully strode up to her soon to be ex-husband. Making sure to stay out of Imoen’s line of fire, she stepped in and started rifling through his pockets. Imoen had to admit being impressed at how quickly and efficiently she worked. Wallet, identicard, commlink, cash, and watch were all removed expeditiously. Then with a grin that could only be called truly vicious, she yanked on the platinum band on her left hand, pulling it free. Pulling open his shirt pocked, she dropped it in and patted it, saying, “I’ll take everything else, but I’ll give you back the ring. I’d slip it on down below, but it’d just fall off. And I don’t want you to lose it.”

Smiling triumphantly as she saw the barb strike home, she stepped back with her loot and asked, “What next?”

“You can just feel the love,” Imoen snickered. At Nalia’s question, one eyebrow arched. “The wallet and such, I’d say that’s the down payment on your alimony. Now hand me that identicard so that we can get you the full sum. Plus hazard pay.”

Nalia walked over to where Imoen stood with her weapon still trained unwaveringly on Isaea. As Nalia handed over the card, Imoen swore she could see the corners of the bastard’s mouth curl up into an anticipatory smile. Accepting the card from Nalia’s outstretched hand, she held it up and immediately understood why the bastard was smiling with a gun trained on his head.

It was right there in bold letters. Isaea Roenall.

One red eyebrow arched as she checked the card again and then looked back at Isaea. The hints of the smile were threatening to turn into a full blown smirk. Sneer evident in his voice, he said, “Interesting reading, isn’t it spacer?”

“Oh, certainly is. I assume your father is the Senator?” Imoen asked, her tone level as she waggled the identicard in her hand.

“Oh yes.” It was no longer threatening. It was a full blown, gloating smirk.

“Oh I must have done something spectacular in a past life!” Imoen exclaimed. “He’s the chairman of the Intelligence Oversight committee, isn’t he?”

Nervousness started to creep into Nalia’s features as confidence swelled in Isaea’s. Taking a step forward, he said mockingly, “He most certainly is, you little spacer tramp. Now you put away that gun right now, and I’ll even let you walk out that door before I call security. Give you a sporting chance. I’ll even be so munificent as to promise to not have my father get involved.” Looking at Nalia, he added, “However, my offer to you will be far less… generous.”

Imoen just laughed. Not a titter or a chuckle, but a full on belly laugh. It was all she could do to keep her aim relatively true as her body shook with laughter. Taken aback, Isaea simply stared, unsure of how to take a laughing assailant. Getting control, Imoen smiled and laughed, “Oh ho ho ho. Isaea baby, you sooo funny. This is just way too precious.”

Shocked that the spacer wasn’t quivering in her boots at his family name, Isaea fired back, “You do realize the trouble you are in, do you not? Who you’re up against?”

“Oh Isy-baby, trust me, I do. I musta done some great things in a past life to deserve this. I mean, not only do I get to frell with a complete ass, but he’s that evil minded prick of a senator’s son!” Her voice losing the hint of bitter humor, she continued, “Your father sold out some damn good people to line his pockets. And here’s a chance for me to collect on some debts.”

“Now look,” Isaea countered, trying to sound conciliatory, “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about. There must be some kind of agreement, mutually beneficial that can be worked out. Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Not do anything hasty?” Imoen parroted back. “This from the guy who just seconds ago was going to be so kind as to give me a running start? And now you’re willing to come to a ‘mutually beneficial’ agreement? Color me unimpressed.”

“Every one needs something.” Isaea countered, voice betraying a hint of real concern. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Hmm.” She ran an appraising eye over his frame. It was a close match. It’d work. “You know, I do think that there is something. You give it to me, you walk out of here unharmed. Single, but unharmed.”

Shoulders relaxing in relief, Isaea quickly responded, “Really? Wonderful. And what is it?”

Imoen gave Isaea a predator’s grin. “Your suit.”

Isaea’s eyes bugged as Nalia began to snicker. “What?”

“Yeah, your suit. My brother’s birthday is coming up, and he could use a good suit. So… strip.” Imoen flashed him a toothy grin.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Disrobe. Doff the duds. Drop trou. Get nekkid. Go skyclad. Strip. Undress. Now, get to it.”

“Wha.. what?” stammered Isaea.

Imoen jumped closer, thrusting the blaster out. “Say what one more time and see what happens. Now, get to stripping or I get to shooting.”

Isaea’s eyes went from the emitter of the blaster to Imoen’s face. He found no mercy in either. And his former wife was simply standing next to this spacer and laughing. Swallowing hard, the rich man began to loosen his tie and plot bloody revenge.

“Come on now, put some feeling into it Isy-baby. Shake that thing and toss the stuff to Nalia here. Don’t want that nice suit getting messed up,” Imoen ordered with a laugh. “And boys, strike up a little music for him to dance to. Something with some flair!”

The two musicians on the stage shrugged and picked up their instruments, cranking out powerful, rhythmic chords. From the corners of the bar, sniggers started to break out. Isaea, tie dangling loose from his collar, stared balefully at Imoen and refused to move. “I.. I refuse to demean myself like this.”

“But you had no problem calling me everything from slut to whore and then ordering your lackey to try and crack me one. So you can understand why I don’t care if you refuse,” Imoen replied coldly. Gesturing to the suit with her gun, she said, “Now, I’m gonna have get that suit off you one way or another. Why don’t you shake that thang and take it off so I don’t have to strip it off your corpse.”

Isaea stared at Imoen for a long moment, then at the crowd that was watching the tableaux with growing interest, and finally at the blaster trained on his forehead. Shoulders slumping, Isaea pulled his Seltaran silk tie from his neck and tossed it to his chuckling ex-wife. And then, at Imoen’s gesture, he began to sway side to side as he started pulling off his jacket.

“A little more shimmy there, Isy. The ladies want to see you shake that skinny white butt of yours!” chortled Imoen. Face beet red, the senator’s son peeled off his suit coat and tossed that Nalia’s way as well. The redheaded divorcee caught the jacket and let out a derisive snort. “You think these moves are bad, you should have seen his moves in the bedroom. At least he was quicker about it.”

Both women chuckled as Isaea continued his ‘striptease’. He worked the buttons on his starched white shirt, eyes fixed on the blaster and body moving like an epileptic receiving electroshock. Pulling off his shirt, a number of wolf whistles from some of the bar’s female patrons sounded. Three dark skinned Terran women began to clap in time and cheered as the shirt joined the coat on Nalia’s pile.

Red color flooded Isaea’s well toned chest as the wolf whistles continued. Nalia shouted, “Come on Isaea. You’re always talking about how you’re the gods gift to women, so prove it.”

The crowd guffawed in approval. Isaea tried to stop, but a few emphatic gestures by Imoen with her pistol helped Isaea find the desire to continue. He unbuckled his belt was undoing his pants when a voice called out, “Show us that butt!”

Imoen smiled and said, “Good idea! Isaea, turn around and let the ladies see that butt of yours! And do it in style or I’ll put a hole in it!”

Skin burning red, he could do little but comply. He turned and with hips shaking, he lowered his trousers. The appreciative crowd roared in approval, but when he nearly fell flat on his face as he tried to pull them over his shoes, they burst into wholesale laughter.

Beet red from anger and humiliation, Isaea stood in the back of the Monkey in only his shoes and a pair of black silk boxers. Turning back around, he passed his pants back to Nalia. “There. You have my suit and you have your infantile laughs. Are you satisfied?”

“Nuh uh.” Imoen replied. “I think the crowd wants to see some more! Right?” The crowd cheered. “Thought so. So, Isy-baby, keep going! It’s time for the grand spectacle!”

“But.. but..” Isaea stammered.

“I certainly wouldn’t call it grand,” Nalia interjected, smiling viciously as she watched the color drain completely from Isaea’s face. Watching her pig of a husband’s pride and dignity melt under this spacer’s assault was perhaps the best thing she’d seen in the last two years. Smiling over at the redhead with the gun, she loudly added, “Hell, you’ll probably need spectacles just to see anything.”

Eyes wide, Isaea gulped. “Please… please. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just not that,” he pleaded.

“What? Ashamed of the equipment nature requisitioned for ya?” answered Imoen. Nalia dissolved into another fit of laughter, noted the smirking Imoen. “Now your ex says you don’t have much to work with, but independent confirmation is important. So.. drop em.” The smile widened as she said with fake reassurance, “And don’t worry, I even got my microscope.”

Isaea curled in on himself, arms sheltering his groin and pleaded again, “Please… Money… she needs money!! So do you! Everyone does! Credits.. as many as you want! Enough to buy a new ship!”

“Isy.. there aren’t enough credits in the Alliance budget for me to skip seeing you dancing around butt naked. Now boxers… down.”

“No! I will not!” shouted Isaea wildly.

Imoen’s smile turned vicious again. Very carefully and deliberately, she lowered her arm and reaimed. Right at his groin. “Now Isy, either you show it off or I blow it off. Which is it gonna be?”

Lip trembling, Isaea opened his mouth to plead once more but saw the negatory head shake from Imoen. Biting down on his lip, the aristocrat hooked his thumbs in his boxers, squeezed his eyes shut and dropped them.

As silk hit the steel of the deck, the crowd burst into cheers and laughter. Nalia had to lean against a pillar to keep her feet and Imoen’s aim wavered as she quaked with laughter. The Monkey reverberated with the sound of laughter at the man crouched in on himself in the back. “Well Nalia, if for no other reason than ’that’,” Imoen chuckled, bobbing her head towards the cowering naked man, “I can see why you’d want to be rid of him. Wow. I didn’t know they came in such small sizes.”

“It was..” laughed Nalia, “a completely.. unsatisfying marriage. In every way.”

“I bet.” Looking down at the cringing Isaea, Imoen laughed, “Alright, you can go now.. wait. One last thing.”

“What more can you want from me, you harpy!?” squealed Isaea.

“Nalia, check Andre for a pair of shock cuffs.”

“Huh?” asked a confused Nalia.

“Shock cuffs. He’s a bodyguard, he’s probably got a pair.”

“Ooookay,” answered Nalia. She set down the suit and bent to rummage through the android’s clothing. A moment’s search found a pair of magnetic shock cuffs attached to its belt. Pulling them free, she looked up at Imoen and asked, “So, what do you want me to do with them?”

“Simple,” answered Imoen. “Cuff him. But… cuff his hands behind his back.”

Isaea whimpered and crouched even lower at Imoen’s directive. Eyes wild with panic, he listened to the growing guffaws and watched Nalia get up and start walking towards him with a cold smile that chilled his blood. Unable to take it any longer, he shrieked and leapt to his feet. With nearly superhuman speed, the naked industrialist sprinted for the exit, sped on by bursts of laughter.

Laughing, Imoen reholstered her blaster as the naked Isaea turned the corner and disappeared down the corridor. Still holding the shock cuffs, Nalia said, “Thank you. Thank you very much. You could have let that monster drag me away. You didn’t have to do a thing, but you did. How can I..”

Imoen waved her off, “No one should be treated that way. Period. I just.. well as my brother would say, ‘tried to do the right thing.’ He’s big on that.”

“Well thank you… umm… “

“Imoen. Call me Imoen,” interjected Imoen cheerfully.

“Well, thank you Imoen,” said Nalia gratefully. Turning toward the exit, she asked over the chorus of laughter, “Umm.. I hate to ask, but are.. are you sure it is wise to let him get away? His family.. his family is incredibly powerful.”

“Oh, I know. But we’ll have plenty of time to leave. My bro’s ship is set to depart in a few hours, and security around here isn’t exactly tight. Plenty of time.” Seeing that Nalia still seemed unconvinced, she added, “But, if it’ll make you feel better..” Imoen turned to where Ilana leaned up against a pillar, doubled over laughing. “Hey, Ilana, think you can get Melly up on the comms? Let her know that we’ve got a streaker down here. Tell her he’s a nice young buck and that he’s a bounty that I was bringing in but gave me the slip. Oh, and that I’m not in a big rush to get him back?”

Ilana smiled, and it was not a pleasant one. “For what he said to you Im, I’ll call her private commlink. She’ll love a nice young one like that.”

As the waitress pulled out a commlink and placed a call, Nalia turned to Imoen and asked confusedly, “You’re a bounty hunter? Melly? I don’t understand..”

“First, I’m not a bounty hunter. And as to Melly.. look, its better that you don’t. Melly.. she’s half Grummish and she works security for this section of the station. She’s a.. hard.. lady.. with.. particular tastes in young men.” Smiling wickedly, she looked towards the exit Isaea disappeared through. “Your ex is about to get a real education.”

“Good!” cursed Nalia with a level of hatred and bitterness that took even her aback. Looking at the anguish behind those eyes, Imoen felt a deep pang of sympathy for the woman standing next to her. She’d only been around Isaea for a few minutes and nearly committed homicide, she couldn’t imagine being married to him.

“He treated you pretty bad, didn’t he?” asked Imoen sympathetically.

“Yes. Yes he did. But not any more.”

“Nope. No more.” Imoen replied with a little smile. “And I know I just met ya, but if I gotta know, why did ya marry that cretin?”

“He wasn’t the greatest guy, but he was charming enough before we got married. The rest… It’s… it’s a long story. One I’d be happy to tell you, but maybe we should go find your brother and his ship before my ex husband gets a chance to cause trouble…”

Imoen snapped her fingers and nodded. “Good point. Plenty of time to chat onboard. And I’m sure Bran, he’s my brother, won’t mind giving you a ride to wherever you want to go. In fact, I can promise it. You do want a ride off station, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I was here. I was going to try and charter a ship to get away,” answered Nalia.

“Great! Well, my bro’s got a great one. Brand new. Well, pretty much. And we’ll go there right away. Just gotta take care of two things first. First we take care of the tab…”

Imoen reached into the pile of Isaea’s belongings and pulled out his wallet. Fishing out a huge wad of local currency, she handed it to Belham. “Belly, this should cover my tab, the clean up, and a little for you.” Dropping another wad on the bar, she said loudly, “And the rest should cover everyone’s drinks for the rest of the evening.”

Belham made both piles disappear with amazing speed and winked as the crowd broke into a raucous cheer. Scooping up Isaea’s suit and the rest of his belongings as Imoen returned from the bar, Nalia asked incredulously, “That was the first? What’s the second?”

Holding out Isaea’ indenticard and his credit cards, she smiled and said, “We go shopping. Come on, this should be fun!!”

Smiling, Imoen headed for the exit, followed by a slightly bewildered Nalia de Arnise. Shaking her head at the woman in front of her, Nalia mused Today’s looking like the first good day in a long time.

Man, that was great!

Man, that was great!

*bows*

It seems a fitting punishment for one of the most annoying and despicable characters in the game. I mean I just really -loathe- Isaea.

Which reminds me... I've got to come up with more Isaea pieces. But.. after I finish the most recent piece.

Glad you got a few chuckles.

VH

More than just a few! My God, that was funny!

All I can say is:

OK, I can say a bit more than that.

I enjoyed the way Imoen was characterised and found her to be very much in character. Isaea was the slimy, arrogant brat we all know him to be. Nalia was also very much in character and was very believable in this setting. All round, I liked the way the events unfolded and the characters' actions were very natural given their respective personalities.

J

More than just a few! My God, that was funny!

Why thank you. Glad you enjoyed it!

VH

All I can say is:

OK, I can say a bit more than that.

I enjoyed the way Imoen was characterised and found her to be very much in character. Isaea was the slimy, arrogant brat we all know him to be. Nalia was also very much in character and was very believable in this setting. All round, I liked the way the events unfolded and the characters' actions were very natural given their respective personalities.

J

I'm glad you found the characterizations and actions to be in character and believable. It always gets a little harder when you're tinkering with settings and even character backgrounds, as these are not exactly the same as those in the game.

Still, quite glad you enjoyed and you think it worked.

VH