Last Minute Meeting

Posted on Sun Sep 20th, 2020 @ 11:20am by James Thomson & The Narrator

Mission: Just A Short Hop to Priam
Location: Hera - Hub
Timeline: Day 15 Early Evening

It didn't make sense. Ezra was only a day's travel away, and they'd already made it through to day three of recovering from their wounds on Hera. Even if Niska's people had realised they'd been duped, that someone had stolen the cube from right before they eyes, they'd have been back by now, guns blazing. So, either this wasn't Niska's plan, or the ship that had fired on the Fortune's Echo wasn't headed back to Ezra. Either way, it had been too quiet for too long, and James knew it.

He'd been sent into town for last-minute supplies - a fresh food restock and a few bits and pieces - just a swift run to and fro on the mule before they finally left Hera and headed off to Priam to deliver the ore they'd picked up on landing. And as he stood, considering whether to grab a quick pint for luck, a hand rested on his shoulder.

"You're James Thomson?" said a gruff voice from a surly-looking fella with twin pistols to his sides and the look of a seasoned dock worker. His free hand held a crumpled paper photograph he'd been trying to match to faces walking by.

James tensed under the stranger's hand immediately, his hand not holding some of the junk Alden had requested snaking into his jacket in search of the one blade Alden had insisted James leave behind. He preferred knives, there was a personal edge to it that intimidated people in ways a gun couldn’t. As he conjured up how he could use this particular blade to get himself back to the mule in one piece should this turn out to be nefarious. Why else would someone be asking for him specifically? The blade in question wasn’t hard to find, it was unique, curved almost bow-like in shape with a finger-wide hole at the bottom that would help him have a firmer grasp. it fit perfectly into his inner pocket. He gripped around the hilt upon finding the blade bringing an ease to the anxiety he’d been feeling.

Turning around he looked the stranger dead in the eyes, “who’s askin’?” the young Ezran replied sounding casual, the hand tucked into his jacket was less than conspicuous making it clear he was reaching for something. “What do you want?” he asked barely a beat later, the uncertainty amplifying his typical impatience.

"Message for you," the man said, seemingly unconcerned by the fact James had shifted his hand into his pocket. Whether that meant he had support elsewhere covering his ass, or that he felt he'd be faster on the draw was impossible to tell, but there was a definite sense of calm about him as he returned a stern glare. "I'd keep your hands off that blade," he added, face catching a sneer.

"Some bloke called Zan said to give it to you if I saw you on your own. You want it, or we gonna fight?"

James made no indication to remove his hand, especially not after the mention of Zan. Rage coursed through him at the mention of the man he hadn't stopped fantasising about taking out since the day at the dig site. There was also an undercurrent of excitement, if he was receiving messages for the man there was every chance he'd be seeing the man soon. Niska be damned Zan was dead. There was no love lost between the pair, and James almost felt pity over the man's clear envy at James' arrangement with their mutual employer but hurting the crew had diminished any goodwill he felt towards the desperate thug.

"Go, before I change my mind on letting you live" James challenged, though there was an emptiness to it that anyone who knew him would notice. After the dig, Zan aside, he had to remain on his best behaviour.

"No problem, Puhn Yoh," said the docker. And he handed James a typed note. It had a place, a time and an instruction on it.

"Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiou sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo" (Shove All the Planets in the Universe Up my Ass), James bit out once he'd read the contents of the note. There were times that James' forgot the lease Niska held him at bay with. Before this though nothing the crimelord had had him do had been connected to the crew of the Fortune so directly. If Alden found out about this the younger Ezran was likely to end up abandoned on whichever port was closest the Fortune and any hope he'd have of regaining the trust of his family would have been pissed away with the wind. "Is that it?" He asked his tone definitely not lacking any of the threat he'd worked to tone down only moments before.

He knew the dock-worker wasn't the enemy but right now taking his anger out on him was almost too tantalising. Priam, Red Sun Bar, the Docks - 36hrs - Deliver the cube. the now crumpled note in his hands had read. A statement, not a request.

"That's it," confirmed the man. He spat on the ground. "Unless you want to fight?"

"Mate, it's not worth the charges" James quipped as he ripped the note to tatters and threw them in the man's direction. Not caring for a response he gathered his bags and made his way back to the Echo. Along the way, he'd have the same internal argument as he always had, and would likely reach his typical conclusion. He should tell Alden, but he couldn't. As he clambered back onto the mule he used the drive to clear his mind.