With the keys to the cage (part 1)

Posted on Mon Dec 21, 2015 @ 3:11pm by Civilian Ricardo Draxx & Civilian 'Key Holder' Yolanthe Ibalin

1,326 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Pangaea (Wrap up)
Location: Verex III, Orion Space
Timeline: MD09 1715

::ON::

She materialized on a small side street in Verex IIIs only settlement. her first action was to lean against the wall and puke. Ancestors, she hated transporters. She swilled her mouth out with a mouthful of water from a small flask, used her freshener spray and looked around.

She was some where south of the principal auction hall that rose like a squat, industrialized, spider over the Web of street that had grown around it.  Bobbo the Bolian kept his shop in one of the concession spaces that edged the auction house. She'd have to go in.

As expected it was busy. The main area was filled with the live stock. Cages big enough to move in but not big enough to hide behind any other unfortunate. Every one was on display. 

Local time was late afternoon.  The cages were mostly filled with males of all species, most of them large and tough but without the something that tipped her senses off to a fighter. These were meant for labor then. Or food.

Even after so long off world it was amazing to see males in such abundance they were disposable.  Of course, everyone in a cage round here was disposable whether they were part of this or were meant for the later, more expensive, auctions.

She turned away from the flesh market to work her way along the small shops that lined the inside of the market. Sweet and Spice was a little place that offered a variety of plants and herbs from all over. She recognised quite a few of them just from knowing what different drinks did to different species.

Aphrodisiacs and others to extend performance and remove inhibitions. Other recreational compounds for altered states or just sheer cruelty.

She huffed a breath. Of course it would be a shop like this. But time was ticking. She walked through the door. "Bobbo?"

"Who's asking?" Came a gruff response from the shadows at the back.

Yolanthe wasn't about to tell him. There was no telling who was listening. "A paying customer. I need information. On anew auction sale a few weeks ago" she moved further into the shop, looking for the speaker.

"Lets see the colour of your payment then woman," the alien demanded.

Tension she didn't realise she was holding left her. Money was the easy part. She dropped five strips of gold pressed latinum onto the counter. An orion woman. But not like most. She would have been...frightened."

"All Orion women in the auctions are frightened. Double it and I will give you a list of the last months sales," he stated still not stepping out of the shadows.

Yolanthe wasn't sure about that, not after what Klia had told her,but she wasn't going to argue. Not when she was getting what she wanted so easily. She stacked another five strips to the pile and leaned forward eagerly. "Show me."

The bolian tottered out a huge hat obscuring most of his face. He didn't want Yolanthe to see him properly. He grabbed the latinum and merely shot a folded piece of paper in her direction before disappearing into the back just as fast. Then there was no noise. He was gone.

She watched him disappear back into the shadows until she couldn't even see where he was. Draxx must have had a word. Well, that was. unexpected. She pulled the paper over. Fortunately he'd written in federation standard, a quick list of the animal women who had been traded, and when, together with their catalog descriptions. There were no names, but by eliminating dates and descriptions she found what she was looking for. Five foot nothing, hair that was orange more than red, petite. That was Klia. None of the others had the right color hair.

She read the rest of the description. Quiet and Docile. Responds well to threats. Her stomach flipflopped. That wasn't the Klia she remembered. Not the bubbly, obnoxious, excitable woman she had shared dreams and ambitions with.

She looked along the line to the buyer. It noted dispassionately: Torm Marikmar, Tiburian Arms merchant, six thousand bars, credits transfer accepted.

Six thousand bars. If she was capable of changing colour she'd be black with despair. She'd never be able to just buy Klia back. Even if she liquidated every asset she had, she could maybe scrape a third of that together, in time. She wouldn't just be able to do this quietly, without fuss. Now she had to find Klia and pull her out by physical means. They could both end up dead, or worse.

But she had a name. "Who's Torm Marikmar?" she called out to the shadows. If Bobbo the Bolian knew this much, surely he could find out more with enough incentive. "I need to find him. I have more latinum."

"You start asking questions about Torm Marikmar Lady and you disappear. I've seen it," his voice rang out from the back. "Maybe if you have more Latiinum you seek out an arms dealer. There's plenty here. But only one sells the bi pulse 7000, Marikmar" was all he gave her.

She dropped two more strips on the pile. They made a soft clinking sound. "Who?"

The Bolian was beginning to lose patience with her. Stepping into the light once more he said firmly. "Are you stupid woman? Go to the arms dealers and ask around for a Bi Pulse 7000. Only Marikmar sells them. One of them will send you his way legitimately for business. I do not know where he is."

She kept her frustration under control. She didn't want to wander aimlessly around this pit of a place on the off chance of finding a dealer who could point her in the right direction. "Bite me," she snapped back, leaving the pile of latinum and turning out of the store.

The auctions in the main area had moved on from laborers to more skilled individuals. Overhead a sign flashed a change in lot, showing text in Orion. She took a quick picture with her padd and it provided a translation: Lot 243. An Engineer.

Looking to the platform where muscled Orions watched the crowd she saw the merchandise, a risan in his maybe mid-thirties, shoved forward. She tuned out the auctioneer's sales pitch and reached for the communicator.

"Draxx, Can you-" she broke off when a movement caught her eye. She turned to look at the gap between the concession stalls. There was nothing obviously there. She slid her hand to the small of her back and slid a finger through the eye of the cats claw dagger, ready to draw.

"What's wrong, pumpkin?" came Draxx's voice through the tiny communicator.

"I need an arms dealer. A connected one. Any suggestions?" As she spoke she turned a slow circle, looking up as well out for any signs of danger.

"You have Latinum yes? There's a Ferengi called Bok. He's just the mouth piece for a man named Orson. He's connected. If you bribe and ........ possibly flirt with Bok he will sort you out."

She started moving towards the nearest exit. She'd grown up in a jungle so stuffed full of dangerous things that it was a toss up as to if the flora or the fauna would get you first. Living there gave you instincts and hers were starting to twitch. "Where do I find him?"

"The weapons are up towards the north of the food quarter. I don't remember the shop name but it has a really ugly hangman noose thing going on in the sign. You won't miss it," Draxx informed sounding bored.

She headed off in that direction, heading away from the auction hall as the crowds were pressing in. The spot between her shoulders was starting to feel exposed and vulnerable. She was sure she was being watched.

To Be Continued...

A JP by

Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, The Box of Delights

&

Ricardo Draxx
privateer

 

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