Halfbreed Ch. 07

"Fignet!" Mike said, a wide, false smile plastered across his face, "You three foot scoundrel! How do you do?"

The Dwarf didn't rise from his chair. Fignet's Firbolg bodyguard jerked in place and moved to stop them, but Fignet quietly waved him off. Shooting a dark look towards Mike, Jel'Arr folded his hands in front of him and took his place at Fignet's side. Mike eyed the bodyguard's grey hand, which hovered close to his jacket pocket.

Seeing that Mike had already crossed the threshold, Allynna and Lashvara filed in after him. The thick-bearded alien regarded the three of them in turn as they entered.

"You are supposed to be halfway to the Darvek system by now." Fignet said, his deep voice echoing in the room like an underground cavern. "...What are you doing here?"

"Fignet," Mike said, ignoring the question, "It's nice to finally meet you in person! Captain Mike Koller, at your humble service. Might I introduce you to: Lashvara, daughter of the Voateb?"

"-Voaten." Lashvara said, grunting in displeasure.

Mike shrugged. "And of course you've met my first mate, Allynna." The Elf gave a short nod. The Dwarf looked at each of them in turn, toying with his rings.

After a moment, he made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, indicating the door. The guards at his side took the hint, filing past the three newcomers as they left the room. Jel'Arr snorted near Mike's neck as he passed; a Firbolg expression of dominance. Mike smirked but didn't acknowledge it. The door shut behind them, followed by an audible click. They were now alone with their elusive employer.

At first Fignet said nothing. He pulled a file from the drawer, reaching to nab a gilded pen he had perched upon his immaculate desk. His eyes flicked downward, splitting his time between glaring at Mike and reading the document. He tapped the tip of the pen upon the table like a deliberate drumbeat.

"Where is the package?" Were the first words that came from his mouth after a long stretch of silence.

Lashvara took this as her cue and stepped forward. Fignet stopped his tapping and focused on her.

"Fignet Opalbraid." Lashvara began, the Dwarf stiffened in his chair. "I come to you as a representative of the Orcish People, of the Voaten Tribe in particular. We have much to discuss, you and I."

Fignet stared at the Orc as if she were asking him for spare change. "That, I doubt." replied the Dwarf. "You've had no prior business with me, Greenskin. Nor I you."

"But we have," Lass insisted, taking another step forward. Fignet's hand drifted beneath the desk. He shook his head, his eyes hard and his lips flat. The Orc raised her hands and backed off. "I want to talk about your recent deal with these smugglers."

"I don't make 'deals' with smugglers." Fignet said, his face hardening to stone. "Nor do I discuss business with strangers."

"Mr. Opalbraid," Allynna said. "My Captain and I have had numerous fruitful business transactions with you in the past. For the sake of that, at least give us a chance to explain."

The Dwarf was unmoved. "That sounds suspiciously like an admission of guilt."

Allynna dipped her head in deferent respect. "Please: it is in your best interests to at least hear us out."

"My interest, is it?" Fignet said, his pen tapping faster upon the table. "Do tell." He gestured for Mike and Aly to take a seat.

When Lass moved to take one of the two chairs, he stared her down. The Orc let out a huff and folded her arms, hovering behind the chairs. The smuggler and his first mate took their seats on the stiff Gelph leather. "I'll ask again, since you all seem to have lost your wits: what happened?"

Mike and Aly shared a look. "...We ran into some complications." Allynna said at last.

Fignet let out a humorless chuckle. "Evidently!"

"These two not-Smugglers crash landed in my tribe's territory on the Orcish moon two days ago." Lashvara said. "In addition to saving their lives, we recovered both the ship and its cargo. They are now in our custody."

"Oh?" The Dwarf allowed a long pause to fill the empty space of the room. His eyes never wavered from Lashvara's face. "And what did you find in their ship?"

"Wreckage." Lashvara said, her face never losing its kindly smile. "Your 'freelancers' are lucky to be alive, given the impact."

Fignet's eyes held to Lass' for a moment, then turned to look at Allynna. "You are here to have me ransom you from her tribe."

"No." Allynna said, her voice colorless.

"I do not pay for the debts of others." Fignet continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You must think I'm some water-headed halfling, that I would involve myself with... whatever it is you've gotten yourselves mixed up in."

"You're the one who got us into this 'whatever' we're in, to begin with!" Mike snapped, sitting forward in his chair.

"A Dwarf accepts a contract the same way he makes an oath, Mr. Koller." Fignet said, staring at the agitated smuggler with cold indifference. "We deliver precisely what we promise, and we pay what is agreed upon. I have paid you, but you have not delivered."

"Tell that to the gaping hole in my ship." Mike said.

"I'd sooner tell it to the authorities." The Dwarf said, drumming his fingers upon the table. "If you're not here to be ransomed, then why have you come? In my experience, most fools tend to run from their debts when faced with failure."

"They have chosen to pay theirs, instead." Lashvara said, folding her arms. "-And I doubt you of all people wish to run to the authorities and tell them about our stolen Shield Generator."

Fignet's pen began to tap against the table once more. "I don't follow you."

Lashvara smiled, "You do. You just choose to hide it behind a veneer of ignorance. That Shield Generator you plucked from that transport for Maeles Aelor? We paid for it. My tribe and her allies. It was to be delivered directly to us. To my people."

"It was, was it?" Fignet stared down at the paper in his hand. "...Because the contract that I signed with these two vagabonds indicates that I am the owner and proprietor of said Shield Generator, at least until such time as they deliver it to its prospective buyer."

The Dwarf pushed the paper to the edge of his desk, spinning it around so that the three could get a good look at the fine print. "Might you be the buyer who requested delivery to Darvek?" The Dwarf very nearly smirked. "You could have saved us both a tragedy and picked it up yourself."

"You play me for a fool, and a gullible one at that." Lashvara said, her brow lowering.

Fignet let out a gruff chuckle. He put his pen flat upon his desk and leaned back in his chair.

"Tell me Native, what is your code?"

Lashvara tilted her head in confusion. "My what?"

"Your code. Your 'personal philosophy.' The rules by which you conduct yourself in another's presence." The monocle on his face flashed once more.

"Do not try to misdirect the conversation." She growled.

"This is not a misdirection. If anything, it is the very heart of the matter." His pen tapped in a staccato best against the table. "Your code - whatever it might be - brought you here, to my office, demanding answers and throwing accusations devoid of merit. You have brought two failures to my doorstep, whose only use to me was in completing a task that they have evidently failed by their presence here today. And you expect me to reward you."

"My code is my tribe. My morals are my family." Lashvara said, her hand clenching upon Mike's chair.

"So you say." Fignet shrugged, "I cannot read your thoughts, nor divine your intentions through your words alone. Thus, I must judge your morals through your actions." He folded his fingers and leaned forward on his desk, "-And they are far from convincing. How am I supposed to know you aren't lying to me?"

"I have come," Lashvsra said, gritting her teeth. The 'liar' epithet had stung her pride. "Honest and open into a thieves den, hoping to catch not the thief who wronged me, but rather the master who paid him."

"And now you call me a thief in my own place of business." The Dwarf snarled. "You have no honor. Listen well, lass. My own code required me to sit and hear you out. It does not, however require me to blindly accede to your demands. I allowed you to pollute my office with your presence, and you repay my kindness by calling it a thieves den?"

"I have the proof! You were the one who hired these Smugglers!" A string of emotion threaded through Lashvara's lips, "I do not care that you were chosen for this task! I am only asking for a name!"

"I do not name names, even when I am guiltless." Fignet leaned back in his chair, "Just what were you hoping to hear when you walked into my office? Were you looking for monetary compensation, perhaps a replacement for the time you've wasted with your efforts?"

"My people's honor is not something you can simply buy back with a bribe." The Orc said.

"-Then you value abstract concepts far more than most people do, my dear." Fignet answered, "As for me: I'm afraid that Honor is in both short supply, and low demand. You'll have to look elsewhere to find an equitable exchange rate."

"Who was your buyer?" Lashvara repeated. "Why did they take my people's generator?"

"You're asking the wrong questions to the wrong person." The Dwarf said, reaching over to one side of the table as he pushed a small button. "-And this interrogation is over. If we have no more relevant business to discuss? I'm already running late for a meeting."

"You can't just-" Lashvara began, but the door behind them hissed open. Jel'Arr and a tall, Loupian bodyguard swept into the room.

"Jel'Arr?" Fignet made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Please escort this native off the premises."

"Yeah, Boss." Jel'Arr barked, taking hold of Lashvara with an iron grip. The Orc turned like lightning when his hand touched her shoulder.

"You do not need to restrain me! I am only looking for the truth!" The Firbolg ignored her, dragging her towards the door. "Please, I am not asking you to incriminate yourself! I only want-"

"Away, away." Fignet said, flicking his hand as if he was sweeping away dust. His eyes drifted back down to the contract, his other hand scratching out something in the body of the document with the pen.

Mike and Aly had stayed silent during the whole commotion, but as they were busy manhandling Lashvara towards the door, Allynna shot Mike a strange look. He shook his head, not comprehending. She indicated towards Lass with her head, flashing her eyes at him. Mike shrugged. The Elf rolled her eyes and pointed at the band around her wrist. At last he caught on to her concern.

"If she goes, we go." Mike piped up as the two bodyguards jostled with the still-protesting Orc.

Fignet did not look at Mike, his free hand pointed at his chair. "You're staying in that seat until I tell you to. If we are going to talk business, we'll do it without the involvement of outside interlopers."

"You are the Interlopers!" Lashvara shouted from the door, trying to break the grip of the two bodyguards as they hustled her towards the exit.

Mike set his jaw. "Fignet, tell Jel'Arr to let her go. We're not finished here."

Fignet's eyes flicked up from the document. "And just who in the halfling's teats do you think you are, to tell me what to do? Were we on a Dwarven planet, I would be well within my rights to sell the lot of you into indentured servitude for the rest of your miserable lives."

"That would be highly illegal-" Allynna began.

"I know that, you rigid tart." The Dwarf snapped at her. A sudden rage built within Mike's chest. "-but there are other methods to get the answers I want. What those methods are depends entirely on your willingness to cooperate. So shut up and sit down. The both of you. I have long since run out of patience with this charade."

Lass was now nearly out the door, gripping the doorframe with clenched hands as the two bodyguards shoved and dragged at her from either side. Her strength was nearly superhuman, her finger claws digging deep into the metal.

"Fignet." Mike said through clenched teeth. His hands folded into fists in his lap. "Tell your guards to let her go."

The Dwarf stared in cold indifference from beneath his brow.

"No."

"You sonofabitch." Mike said, rising to his feet. The Dwarf snapped his stubby fingers and pointed at Mike's seat.

"Sit down, you pathetic miscreant. You've got more than enough to account for, yourself. Count yourself lucky that I don't send you back to those cannibals on the moon."

Allynna was like a statue in her seat. "Mr. Opalbraid-"

"And you have said more than enough, you disingenuous hag." The Dwarf said. "I should have never trusted the two of you with such a-"

Fignet never finished his sentence, for he had said one insult too many. Mike leapt over the desk at him.

His right hand formed into a tight fist, the liquid metal rolling across his knuckles just in time for them to make contact with the Dwarf's stunned face. Mike tackled Fignet out of his chair, throwing two quick blows in succession by the time they reached the ground. He managed one more hard jab in Fignet's face, smashing his eye-monocole and ripping it off his face before Fignet's thick fingers closed about his jacket.

Fignet, his eyes aflame, flung Mike with a Dwarf's prodigious strength against the bookshelf to the right of his desk. Mike felt his feet leave the ground for a moment before his back smashed into the shelf, spilling most of the books off as he crumpled to the ground. He sat, dazed for a moment, before he saw Fignet reach under his desk for something hiding there.

Mike's instincts kicked in, the smuggler forced himself to his feet in a rush, reaching Fignet just in time to kick aside the short barrel shotgun he'd tried to point in his direction. It skittered across the floor, ending up in a distant corner far from reach.

"Hands on yer fuckin' head you degenerate!" Shouted a voice. Mike paused, glancing up to see Jel'Arr standing across from him on the other side of the desk, his pistol pointed directly at his head. His grey finger hovered like a taut string over the trigger. Mike saw murder in his eyes.

Thud. A knife into Firbolg's chest

Jel'Arr gaped for a moment at the Elven ringknife lodged in his body, astounded at the speed at which it had impacted. The angle and direction had very nearly found its mark in Jel'Arr's jugular, but for the fortuitous turn of his head as he had begun to gloat at Mike. The Firbolg staggered back, lowering his gun as he reached to grasp the bloody wound.

Mike ignored the dazed Fignet, mantling the table at the same moment that Aly rushed towards Jel'Arr. They met in the middle, the smuggler lowering his head and crashing into the larger creature, knocking him back against the wall and sending some of Fignet's priceless minutiae tumbling down to the ground. The two swung at each other, Mike's punch glancing off the bulky creature's gut while the Firbolg missed entirely.

In a flash Allynna was at Mike's side. In her hand was the very gun the Firbolg had tried to use against Mike. She had disarmed him without him even noticing. She stuck the gun in his face, and the bodyguard froze. He leaned flush against the wall behind him, lifting his hands into the air, even as one trembled from the knife in his shoulder. A trickle of purplish blood leaked from the wound, staining his suit jacket.

"Thanks Aly." Mike said, his heart thudding in his chest from the adrenaline.

"Of course, Captain." The Elf said, reaching up and yanking her ringknife clear from the Firbolg's shoulder in a single, swift movement. Jel'Arr let out a pained groan and sank to the ground, clutching at his collarbone.

Still somewhat shaken by the close call, Mike glanced over at Lass. He was just in time to see her shove the Loupian bodyguard headfirst from the room. She took Fignet's automated door in hand and tried to slam it shut, but the automated door mechanism kept it from closing. Lashvara let out a roar, then seized the door with both hands.

Her thick biceps bulged as she gritted her teeth. She planted her feet, and slowly, painfully began to shove it closed. A sickening creak emitted from the door, but Lass remained undeterred. A short series of sparks erupted from the top due to the sudden friction. She let out another roar and pushed harder. It slammed shut in the Loupian guard's face.

"You shouldn't have done that!" She shouted, bracing herself against the door as the sound of pounding came from the other side.

"You see that?" Mike said, ignoring her complaint. He gestured towards Jel'Arr. "That's how I beat that scout Vrospag."

"Vrogag!"

"Whatever." Mike said, turning to the Dwarf behind the desk. "So Fignet, since we've now got a minute to talk, how about tha-"

The Dwarf was nowhere to be seen. Mike walked over to the other side of the desk, craning his neck around to see if he was hiding beneath his work station. He shook his head in disbelief. "What in the-"

He caught sight of the escape shaft beneath his desk just in time for the trap door to start closing. Mike cast his eyes up at Allynna for a half-second, then leapt down after him.

The escape hatch was broad, built for a Dwarf's peculiar physiology. The nearly-vertical slide swept Mike down a cramped, unlit tunnel leading down into some unseen pit. A few seconds after he jumped, Mike thought to look at the device around his wrist. It was beeping.

"Fuck."

He had little time to dwell on the implications. He landed feet-first on the back of Fignet's hovercar just as it hit the gas, falling head first into the back seat of the car as the Dwarf gunned the engines and fired out from his underground garage like a rocket.

Mike felt the sudden pull of repulsing turbines as the luxury car jerked forward, stretching him back and throwing him about the rear of the vehicle like a ragdoll.

"Bolgrim's Piss!" Fignet cursed, pressing a button on his console and reaching past the pristine white viewpod's dashbord to snatch a holdout pistol from a hidden compartment. The hovercar burst out from the garage into the evening sky, hurtling towards traffic.

Fignet swerved the car in time but lost his aim, allowing Mike to scramble to his feet. The drag of the car and the angle of the ascent tipped him back on his heels, and he sat back in the chair, clinging to the leather on either side of him for dear life.

When Fignet turned again to deal with the troublemaker in his seat, Mike thrust his leg out. The car was sized to a Dwarf's biology, so his kick went well past the center console, knocking the gun out of Fignet's hand once more. The Dwarf let out another unintelligible curse and grabbed Mike by the leg, dragging him towards the passenger seat.

The Dwarf was strong. With just one hand he all but yanked Mike out of his seat. Mike made a fist with his right hand, the liquid metal rolling across his knuckles as he punched the Dwarf's ringed fingers. The sound of metal crashing together whipped by Mike's ears, and he felt a sudden twinge of pain. Fignet let out a howl and let go, allowing Mike to once more fall back into the backseat.

His wrist was beeping. Mike stared, dumbfounded at the metal leash Lashvara had sicced on him. It was emitting a small, pulsing light. There was no pain, no shock, no electrical discharge. Only the sound of beeping and the light. Mike allowed a small grin to spread across his face.

That clever bitch. It was just a tracking device.

Fignet's flying fist into the backseat precluded further navel gazing. Mike leaned back but felt the graze of his knuckles brush the air near his face. If a Dwarf landed a hit, it would be a knockout blow.