When we last left the crew of The Ulysses, Jalen Ren had disappeared into the night in order to correct a supposed botch mission on the last job. Emperor only know where he's gone off to.
Jalen Ren did not return by daylight. Nor did he return by the time Gill'on-Tou awoke to take target practice and spar with the ship's low-grade battle hologram. And he certainly wasn't back by the time the rest of the crew got up and moving around. To say that Inquisitor al-Nasr was upset at his acolyte's absence would be like saying a member of the Adeptus Custodes would be upset if you snuck into the throne room for a chat with the Emperor. Acetl was still picking up pieces of shattered machinery and a few broken glasses when Trin joined him in the galley.
"So he took it well, then?" Trin asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Acetl was not generally good with such abstract concepts, but had learned to tell when Trin was being funny.
"There was a fit thrown, with much colorful human language. He said if Jalen wasn't back by night, he would be stripped of his commission and left in port when we leave the planet."
"Oh, so the usual?" Trin asked, rolling his eyes a bit.
"Indeed." Acetl confirmed. "They have a complicated relationship."
"I heard him stomping off. Guess that means he's gone off on another of his damned treasure hunts?"
"I believe so. He did not say." Acetl swept the last of the glass off the floor and dropped it into the reclamator. The machine buzzed once and made the sound of grinding gears as it started molecularly separating the trash for later use. "Have you plans for the time until he returns?"
Trin shook his head as he fiddled with the buttons on his work jacket. "Nothing specific. I guess I'll hit up the nearest bazaar, see if there's anything worth scrounging for. You?"
"Ysuranel has given me orders to pay a few local informants to keep any interested parties off our trail. He said he was going into the city as well, but did not say why. I do wish we would commit to the job Lero provided for us. His people said there wasn't a rush to complete it, but it would be bad form to keep him waiting too long."
"Oh, right. You still think it's worth the pay?" Trin asked, sitting down at the table and leaning back in the chair.
"I do. The words often came straight from the captain's mouth. We ran many jobs for Lero, or at least his organization, if you remember." Acetl's tail swished slightly as he leaned against the counter, his arms folded, but the broom still on one hand.
"Former captain. They left us for dead, I don't need to remind you."
"The company's behavior not withstanding, Lero and his people were always forthright with pay. Even if you cannot trust the creature with it, money speaks louder than they do, oftentimes."
Trin put his elbows on the table and propped his head up with both hands, taking a second to decipher the metaphor Acetl had tried to make. "I guess you're right. Money's money's money. Just seems funny we happen to run into him this far out."
"Perhaps, but then again perhaps he is just expanding his business's reach. The sectors north of us galactically have too much conflict for much of what Lero does."
"Ha," Trin half-laughed and licked his lips. "What Lero does. Above the table, at least."
"I do not believe he would present us with opportunities that were unsavory. Not while we are in the courtesy of an Inquisitor."
Trin stared at Acetl, then looked side-to-side to see they were alone. "Crabs, Acetl, you didn't tell them al-Nasr was an Inquisitor, did you?"
"Not in so many words, but they did ask what we were doing in this sector."
"Guh, Acetl..." Trin moaned as he rubbed the top of his head. "No using the I-word, we've been over this."
"I did not say the word Inquisitor."
"Pray to the gods you didn't. And if you did, pray to them harder that al-Nasr doesn't hear about it. It's bad enough the old man's little pet's gone off without his say-so."
"You have nothing to fear, Trin. I am very in control of my countenance."
"Fine, good, you keep saying that." Trin got up from the table and started to walk away, but stopped and asked, "Oh, did al-Nasr happen to mention when we were breaking atmo? You know, so I know if the kid's cabin will be available."
"If I asked for a departure time every time the Inquisitor threatened to leave Jalen behind, I would have enough to fill up a shelf full of log books."
"Okay, well that's fine, I suppose." Trin sighed. "You need anything from the market?"
"Not at this time, Trin, but good hunting." Acetl said as he turned to hang the broom up in the cleaning closet.
"Good hunting, sarge, I'll be back in a bit."
Inquisitor al-Nasr tromped through the walkways between stalls at a marketplace he had absentmindedly wandered into. Scanning the wares for sale, he was unimpressed, and not in the mood to be impressed even if there had been anything worth buying. "Hrmph, trash." he muttered to himself as he stopped to look over a table.
"There is something I can help you with, friend?" asked the stall's handler, graciously spreading his arms wide over the collection of knick-knacks and bobbles. He started to say "We have the finest--" but trailed off after getting a look at the sour look on al-Nasr's face. He grinned a wide grin, nonetheless. "Perhaps you are just browsing this day."
Al-Nasr walked off, not listening to the merchant try to finish his sales pitch.
It wasn't that al-Nasr distrusted his young acolyte. He was a bit headstrong, a bit brash, but nothing that couldn't be controlled with a little punishment. Al-Nasr didn't have the psychic means to control the boy anyway. It was just that... well... it just wasn't right. Someone had dropped the ball regrading the storage container. Most likely the information was out-of-date. If Jalen thought it was his fault, that was just an issue he was going to have to get over himself. Yes, al-Nasr thought, the boy is wrong, and he felt a little bit better.
The Inquisitor turned into a small alleyway off the main road. This trip was a bust, he thought to himself. This whole planet might be a bust. Not really worth the time or money they were spending by sticking around. He continued walking down the side street and dropped into a shop named "Exotics," the sign a blaze of color-changing neon tubes.
The inside was similarly decorated. Large leaves in various hues adorned the walls, displayed amongst shelves of knick-knacks. Buzzing overhead tubes emitted a dull light that washed color out of the room. Items were stacked and stacked against the walls and on top of tables. A man with a dark mustache looked up from the counter and smiled widely. "Welcome to Exotics, my good friend. If it's exotic, I got it. What brings you to my humble shop on this day?"
Al-Nasr muttered just loudly enough for the merchant to hear. "Just shopping for a friend."
"Oh, well you are in luck. We have many items that would be perfect for gifts. Is this, perhaps, a birthday present? For a grandchild, maybe?"
Choosing to ignore the thinly veiled comment about his age, al-Nasr said, "A graduation, actually."
"Oh, how wonderful for your friend. You must be very proud." Al-Nasr grumbled non-commitally. The merchant smiled again, carefully sizing up the strange man who had entered his shop. His accent matched nothing he had heard locally, and his manner of dress was strange as well. It was if he were trying to blend in, but not doing a good job of it.
Al-Nasr ran his fingers over a few items: an automatic cleaning robot here, a group of lighted plastic chairs there. They might be considered exotic to the merchant's normal clientele, but there were strictly mundane as far as al-Nasr was concerned. "I don't think you have what I'm looking for."
The merchant's mustache twitched slightly as he grinned again. "Well, of course, not out for display. I cannot keep the truly magnificent items out in the open for the normal shopper to touch with his dirty, grease-stained fingers. But you, you look like the type of man who appreciated things that are a bit more... unusual. You seem to me to be looking perhaps for something a bit more extravagant. For a gift, I mean."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps even something a bit... alien." At the word, al-Nasr's eyes got a greedy look to them, and he practically licked his lips. Got him, the merchant thought, then continued. "If you wish, I can put you in touch with a man who can grant you access to a... higher tier of good. For the right price."
Al-Nasr skipped ever so slightly as he followed the directions on the small slip of paper the merchant had given him, with a money-back guarantee if he were not satisfied with the available selection. He found the door with the correct number, confirmed again the door number matched the paper on the number, and knocked the way the merchant had told him: two quick raps, pause, and another two quick raps.
A small slot opened in the door and two eyes appeared behind it. "Yes?" a gruff voiced asked.
"Sterling sends his regards." al-Nasr said. The eye slot closed and a couple loud clanks sounded from the other side of the door as it was unlocked and opened. He was led through a twisting hallway decorated with what appeared to be fine pottery and statuary. Large plants adorned alcoves, lit from behind by glowing panels. Here, a fish tank swam with dozens of species al-Nasr had not seen before. Al-Nasr and his escort reached another door, where the man swiped a card from his waist on a panel, which buzzed.
Inside, a man was sitting at a table playing some holographic game. The person opposite him was actually a blue holographic projection, the outline fuzzy and twitchy. The man was dressed in a large, fluffy fur coat in white. His pants, at least what could be seen beneath the coat, were striped red and pink. His hair was initially purple, but as the man turned to face al-Nasr, the color rolled through the spectrum, first blue, then green, and into yellow. Al-Nasr also noticed as the man turned that he wore no shirt and was impeccably fit.
The man waved his hand over the table as he stood, dismissing the projections. "Ah," he said to al-Nasr, his accent thick and gothic, "Welcome sir. Sterling told me you would be coming to pay me a visit. I am Dietmar Schneider. Now, what could I possibly do for..." he paused and looked al-Nasr up and down, "an Inquisitor?"
Al-Nasr slammed a dataslate on the galley table, surprising Trin and Gill, who hadn't seen him come in. "This." he said, motioning to the slate. "This is what we're doing. Gather your gear, we're leaving in 5 minutes." He turned to go, not waiting for a response. One came anyway.
"What about the kid?" Trin said.
"I am not his keeper." al-Nasr said, disappearing around a corner.
"I kinda think you are, boss!" Trin shouted back.
Al-Nasr's head reappeared from around the corner. "If my young charge fails to be present at my request, I will deal with it privately. Now, prepare your weapons." he said, and disappeared again.
"Can I have his cabin?" Trin yelled, but there was no response. He face looked momentarily discouraged, but then looked down at the dataslate. It had an address marked "pickup," another marked "delivery," and a picture of a small metal box. "Wait." Trin yelled again. "We're a delivery service now?"
Al-Nasr returned to the galley, slotting an ammo sphere into his Drukhari pistol. "For this client, and what he could possibly bring us, we are today."
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