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Sara Kerrigan
Caldari
PAK
Posted - 2004.10.16 20:40:00 - [1]
 

Bringing you tales from the darker side of the universe.
For the previous chapters:
The Kerrigan Chronicles Chapter 2: Don't Blink
The Kerrigan Chronicles Chapter 1: No Longer Original

And now I present...
The Kerrigan Chronicles Chapter 3: Meeting of Sahtogas

* * *

Hooran Davesghad sat back in his swivel chair, gazing intensely at the Fedo cleaning bacteria from the outer window behind his desk. Such a filthy, disgusting creature it was, but useful in its task. Every station and ship in the region made use of its unique qualities--resilience and a stomach for garbage--to deal with waste products and to keep the outer hull clean. A foul stench was the only downside, worse even than the cabbage-scented Minmatar, but ventilation shafts circulated fresh air regularly. Were it any other day, this Fedo would have been the last thing on his mind. But now he was confronted by a rare situation, one he hoped could be resolved without too much trouble. Not six feet behind him, his visitor waited patiently. I'll delay as much as I flaming want. Notorious pilot or no bloody notorious, I call the shots around here. With a position as decorated as mine, I make any mortal man wait 'till his teeth rot out his flaming head.

Dim lights and the faint tune Quaesitum Finished in the background gave a sinister feel to the largest personal office on the station. Relics in glass cases atop bone-crafted pedestals adorned each side from the doorframe, and red Blood Raider tapestry hung loosely from the walls, white skull silhouette signifying the purity of the blood. At the far end of the room, Hooran's desk stood out like a throne in an unholy palace, lights angled to illuminate his guests while he himself remained in patient shadow.

Time to get this bloody business over with. The dark-hooded Ni-Kunni, long-time security agent for the Blood Raiders, turned slowly to stare eye to eye with his visitor. "What brings you to Sahtogas?" he inquired sharply, stifling a curse. Propped idly against the high-backed chair, arms crossed comfortably under her breasts and right leg equally twined across the left, the red-haired vixen, Sara Kerrigan, smirked in spite of his tone. Her cold brown eyes glistened under the questioning lights, and despite the intensity, not a drop of sweat fell from her body. The dark two-piece latex attire and matching boots accented her figure.

"You know exactly what I came for, Hooran," she teasingly remarked. "Weapons, supplies, implants... any new technology you have, I want it." The ingratiated smirk seemed to grow larger, and willfully beautiful. She knew Hooran. A man hardened by endless grief and loss, but even he could not shed his soft spot for a pretty face. But this was business and she would play him as a furrier-boned flute. He held the tools she would need to rebuild her destiny--a destiny based on power and greed--and she was determined to have her way, no matter the cost.

Hooran's brows lowered questioningly and he shifted in his chair, though his eyes remained transfixed. Sweat beaded his face now, but he hoped his guest would not notice. "Why," he began, shifting his position once more to battle the discomfort--those flaming cold eyes will be the death of me, "should I bloody help... should the Blood Raiders help you?" He knew Kerrigan's game--she dealt her own cards, plotted and planned her own rules--and she always got what she wanted from him. She wasn't the sort to lose, but he would fight it to the end. Those eyes...

Sara Kerrigan
Caldari
PAK
Posted - 2004.10.16 20:40:00 - [2]
 

Hooran continued. "You haven't shown your face here, Sara, since your last failure, and you expect an open-arm welcome and a bottle of spiced wine? It was a very important mission, Sara. We don't often forgive, and we never forget." Twelve months. A full year since the Amarr Championships. "We pulled many strings and threatened several treaties to get you and your gang of scoundrels into the event. And you disappointed us."

Sara never lost her composure. She knew this would be the topic of debate before she ever set her mind to docking. The cards are dealt... lets see how this plays out. "Did we not win the Kador House trials, Hooran? A simple feat really... our competitors knew less of combat than a slave knows of dignity. Why, I would wager--"

"Enough!" Hooran broke in, slamming his fist against the desk and causing Sara to blink in disbelief and her grin fade. That got her bloody attention. "You failed us. The Kador trials were but one step, worthless in itself. Without the final victory, the plan could not be fulfilled. Because of your failure, we do not, nor ever will, have in our possession the blood of Temal Kador." Hooran was breathing hard now. He rarely ever had to raise his voice to the young, amiable pilots that sought scraps of work from his hands, like slaver hounds to their master.

A gingerly smile returned to Sara. So he has his own cards, does he? "Oh, Hooran. Is the blood all you really care about?" What could he have needed the blood of Kador for? His gaping expression was enough to answer that. The Blood Raiders, part of the ancient Sani Sabik cult, gained their reputation from kidnapping and draining the blood from spacefaring pilots throughout the Amarr territories. The blood itself was used in gruesome rituals, dedicated in the search for eternal youth. Sara Kerrigan had been more than willing to supply the Blood Raiders with uncooperative pilots with which to harvest from, but the blood of a royal, of an Emperess, would have been priceless. "You have been betrayed, Hooran. From the moment we undocked for the final battle, our loss was assured. Sabotage." Hooran was wide-eyed with attention now. Sabotage? "On the eve of final battle, we experienced unusual system failures, reducing our combat efficiency to sixty-five percent. Communication between our crafts was also malfunctioning--signals were getting mixed, and our formation broke before we could recover." Kerrigan was not one to make unjustified excuses.

Sara Kerrigan
Caldari
PAK
Posted - 2004.10.16 20:41:00 - [3]
 

Edited by: Sara Kerrigan on 16/10/2004 20:44:28
"You have proof of this?" Hooran Davesghad was a man who could doubt a moon's orbit unless he saw it for himself. And even then, he might watch ten cycles just to be sure. Reaching behind herself, Sara drew a data sheet and slid it across the desk. "Your ship's tactical logs. Interesting." Hooran examined the data sheet meticulously for several minutes before setting it down, a grave look on his face. "Was your ship not inspected thoroughly before the competition?"

"It was. By TomB himself." A rise in Hooran's eyebrow was indication enough of what passed through his mind at the mention of TomB. No one could ever be sure what that crazed Jovian was up to. It was rumored that the Jovian Disease had taken hold of him, and that the madness was starting to slip through the cracks.

"We will look into this further." So she may not be responsible for the outcome afterall. Could someone have known of our plans? Hooran pushed the data sheet aside and reached for another that his secretary had left there earlier. Skimming the contents, he continued. "There is still the issue of your absense for the past twelve months. My trust in you has worn thin." The final card has been drawn, the bets are on the table. This time, I collect the bloody pay. "But perhaps you can earn it back, Miss Kerrigan. I have a mission here that is suited for a pilot of your caliber. We got reports of an Amarr Imperial patrol in this sector. Our spies report they are scouts providing intel back to the DED for a much larger battlegroup. We cannot have them discover our bases or gather any intel on our operations. Teach them a lesson for us and we shall reward you generously. Fail, and I'll have your head! Do we have an accord?" Game over. The chips are mine.

A satisfied look came over Sara's face as she heaved herself off the chair and stood upright, looking down at Hooran Davesghad. "I'll get right on that," she acceded smuggly. Without waiting to be dismissed, she turned and made her way out of the office. Before reaching the door, she let out a light chuckle. So he thinks his hand has won the draw, does he? It's not over yet... the wild card has yet to turn.
* * *


 

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