Daniel Ciin (miaiphonos) wrote in thegalaxy, @ 2016-05-01 01:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: coruscant, kaz brekker, sinjir fel |
you know i’m guilty
Who: Kaz Brekker & Sinjir Fel
What: Kaz meets a long-standing client face to face. A business proposition is made.
When: late morning
Where: Coruscant
Rating: PG?
It was early yet, but the cantina was already bustling. The crowd did not deter Sinjir Fel. It was a cloak of a sort, a shield for both him and the man he was to meet. Truly neutral places were rare in the galaxy of late, but crowds at least guaranteed witnesses or alibis in the event something did go awry. And as far as bars went, the Fire Wasp was more aboveboard than most. The clientele were fairly well-heeled, mostly merchants and pilots and their more presentable crew. Trouble was frowned upon in a place such as this, and their crew of sizable bouncers made certain incidents were infrequent, and brief when they did occur.
Sinjir sat in a booth set into the wall. He had his back to the door; a half-empty mug of something strong sat in front of him. One hand was loosely curled around the bottom of the vessel. The other toyed with a small holoreader. He skimmed his index finger over its surface, scanning the day’s flood of holonet traffic. He was only marginally paying attention to either distraction. The bulk of his focus was on the entrance behind him. He felt the coming and going of patrons, but none had yet raised his hackles. None had come to trouble him in spite of the empty bench across from him. Or rather, nearly empty: He had told his contact to find him seated across from a defunct mouse droid painted red.
Such a thing warranted little discussion so close to the market; it might have been intended for sale, or salvage, or any number of purposes few would care about. Sinjir himself called no attention to it, having dumped it unceremoniously in its seat before buying his drink. Bored, he raised a booted foot beneath the table and tapped the droid with his toes, sending it clinking farther back atop the thick black cushion.
The sound of a cane tapping against the metal flooring of the planet's level preceded Kaz's entrance. He moved slowly, both for his own preference and to retain the facade of helplessness that gave him an advantage over others. He paused a few feet inside the doorway, taking in the establishment's patrons, until his gaze fell on the droid described by his contact. Eyes flicked up from there to the man seated next to it, his own gaze secure on the holoreader in his hand. Kaz wasted no time in approaching the man's table, allowing the tapping of his cane to announce his presence.
"Anything news-worthy?" His voice, sounding far deeper than it should have been for a man of his age, was low as he sidled into the free end of the booth, leaning the beak of his crow's head handle against the table's edge.
Sinjir's brow arched at the unexpected voice. He cut a sidelong look at the newcomer, dark eyes tracking Kaz's progress as he moved to sit. He pushed aside the holoreader. To say his guest was not what he had expected would have been an understatement. Sinjir's intermediaries had spoken only of the reputation and professional conduct of his contact; beyond that, the quality of the merchandise and buyers Kaz had managed to procure for Sinjir over the years had spoken for itself. Sinjir had shaped a certain image of the man, one which he now knew to be inadequate in several ways.
"Hardly," Sinjir said. "But I think that might change soon enough. Can I get you a drink?"
Kaz nodded. "Utoz." He left both of his hands on the tabletop, resting on gloved fingertips, eyes studying the man sitting across from him. He recalled Wylan's transformation, but remarked to himself that the runaway would have been half as lucky to look like this man. Looks were one thing, though; his dealings with Sinjir had been circumspect at best, and not through his own choice. He could respect a certain measure of paranoia, but there was a time when a body had to get their hands dirty. Kaz was curious about this man, and why he'd arranged this meeting at all.
Sinjir neatly caught the arm of a passing waitress. He placed their orders -- Utoz for his "friend," more whisky for himself -- and sent her on her way.
"It's good to finally meet you," Sinjir said. "I've been very grateful for your willingness to work around my…" He hummed softly, contemplating the best word. "Peculiarities. I'm making some changes to the way I do business, and right now I'm deciding who I'll bring with me into these new ventures and who'll get left behind. A face to face seemed like the only real way to decide which you're going to be."
"That's fair of you," Kaz agreed. His ears were perked by the potential opportunity laid before him. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Well," Sinjir said, "I'm going to be stepping up my work. Making more weapons when I see fit, placing more orders, and larger ones, than I have in the past. Right now I source things through a lot of different channels, and I think it's time for some streamlining. I won't say I'm looking for a partner, but something closer than I have right now."
The waitress returned. She placed a long-necked bottle in front of Kaz and a second mug, full to nearly overflowing, before Sinjir. Then she was gone, and Sinjir broke the silence again. Kaz's hands moved to lightly wrap around the bottle placed before him, but his attention was fully on the man seated across the booth.
"I won't lie. There's profit and influence to be made here, but there's risk as well. I need people I can trust to move what I need and deal with what might get thrown at them as a result. I'm done working with mercs who send my goods out the airlock rather than run through an Order blockade. And you'd work through me, but not just for me. There's something much more important at stake."
"Anything worth anything involves risk," Kaz rumbled, his gritty voice picking apart the words. "But I'm not interested in making a political name for myself. Profit is preferable, and influence ... one can never have enough of that." He took a swig from the bottle, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "You've seen that I can deliver. Likewise, I know you can pay. If you say there's credits to be made, I'm interested."
"That's disappointing," Sinjir said, "but for now I'll take it. Not everyone has the balls to deal with a target on their back. As long as you won't turn tail and run when my name starts coming up, we can deal. And who knows. Once the Order incinerates a few planets you care about, you might come around to my way of thinking." Kaz chuckled, his response odd to any who were unfamiliar with his character; rather than respond to Sinjir's jab, he merely took another drink. It was better to let such passions run their course, rather than fuel the flames.
Sinjir watched Kaz over the rim of his overfilled mug as he took a lengthy sip. Whiskey dripped over his fingers. "I have to ask," he said. "Is it just your clan's code that keeps you from choosing a side? Or is something else holding you back?"
Kaz considered the question for a moment, weighing how much to reveal. "How much do you know about the Naboo rift?"
"Enough," Sinjir said. He sucked droplets of liquor off his fingers; Kaz's eyes lingered on the gesture. "People come in and out for no apparent reason. Been going on for years. Rumor has it the Order is starting to recruit straight from there, before the newcomers know any better."
Kaz gave no particular attention to Sinjir's reply beyond that he knew of the rift.
"I came through it, about ten years ago. Suffice it to say, it's easy to remain neutral when you don't have any personal stake in the larger picture. The Council makes for a good excuse." He waited a beat, one gloved hand toying with his drink.
"Now you know more than most about me, though I don't know if that will assuage any guilt you feel for conducting business with a man of no allegiances."
"Guilt? No. More…" Sinjir shrugged. "Concern for your judgment. You're obviously a smart man. You've done better than most of the refugees. But ten years is a long time. It's certainly long enough to understand we all have a personal stake in who wins this war. It's just a matter of time before the Order decides your neutrality isn't good enough."
He shook his head. Nursed his whisky for a few more sips. "Maybe that's an argument for another time. As long as I can trust you to handle my business and not sell me out, we're good. For now."
The humor fell away from Kaz's face; handling suspicions was part and parcel of his line of work, but if there was one thing Kaz took issue with, it was having his integrity questioned. His jaw clenched, and he tried to hide it with a swig from his own bottle.
"I'd be a poor business partner if I sold out my clients at every turn," he finally commented, thinking of Sinjir's 'peculiarities' and wondering how long it would be before he said the wrong thing to the wrong person and got a blaster pulled on him. His next thought was how often it had already happened and how this man was still alive.
Sinjir arched a brow. "I hit a nerve," he observed. "Don't worry. I have faith in you. I trust you more than most or we wouldn't be talking right now." He sat back in the bench seat, stretching languidly out, as though he were at home rather than in an increasingly crowded, increasingly noisy pub. "But I've needled you enough. If we're going to do this you probably want to know more about me as well. So hit me. Ask whatever you want."
Kaz didn't waste the opportunity. "Why the change? For someone worried about targets on backs, you're drawing a much bigger one on yourself."
"Because there's no other option anymore," Sinjir said. "They're getting bolder while we sit around wringing our hands, forming committees to decide what we should do. Talking has never worked. Blowing shit up has."
Holofootage of the Hosnian massacre filled Kaz's mind's eye, red beams slowly inking their way through a black sky toward their destinations. In the end, those blooms had snuffed out thousands of lives. Sinjir had a point regarding the First Order's might and willingness, but... "So you're just going to..." He shrugged his shoulders. "...just blow them up, until there aren't any left? I hardly think an arms race is the smartest approach."
"I'm not talking about an arms race," Sinjir said. He flashed a vicious grin over the lip of his mug. "I'm talking about coordinated strikes. Precise targeting. I'm not genocidal, Kaz. Just… determined. I'm not above using their own tools to tear them down. But go on." He gestured with the cup. "What would you do? If you were to choose a side, that is."
Kaz's brows bobbed up and down in a suggestive manner. "The answer to that sort of question is something I'd usually get paid for." His fingers toyed with his drink for a moment.
"I've always been a fan of the inside man tactic. Done correctly and carefully, it's quick and clean. The target doesn't see what's coming until it's too late." He took another drink. "Blowing shit up, as you so eloquently put it, does leave an impression, but big and loud has never been my style.
"Not very fitting for a smuggler." Eyes flicked from his bottle to Sinjir's face. "Why did you select me as a potential business partner?"
Sinjir beamed. He chuckled into his cup, buying some time with a long pull of whiskey. "For one thing," he said, "you're damn good. I've never asked for or sold you anything you couldn't move. Revolutions are made or broken on logistics." He leaned forward, enamored of the conversation's turn. "Also, your Bha'lir may claim neutrality but I know you like an underdog. And after the Hosnian system, you can't say the Resistance isn't exactly that right now.
"And this, right here." He gestured again, whisky sloshing in the mug. "You have good ideas, even if they are on the safe side. You just need someone to grab the reins and do it. To push those ideas to the next level."
Kaz bit back a smile; Sinjir's enthusiasm was contagious, even though Kaz was interested less in what was being said rather than who was saying it. The thought of truly picking a side, though, felt wearying. "You don't...see sort of a pattern here? First the Empire, now the First Order...before that, the Sith Empire. And then the Jedi, the Republic, their little rebellion..."
He took a drink, then tilted the bottle at Sinjir. "...Now the resistance. It doesn't feel a little...endless to you?"
"Sure," Sinjir said. "Everything is cyclical. That's just history, no matter where you come from. But you're oversimplifying it. The Republic lasted a thousand years before it rotted from the inside. A thousand years. That's no blip on the radar. And what we build now could last as long or longer if we learn from past mistakes." He brought his elbows to rest on the table, and leveled an intense look at his companion. "Come on, Kaz. Tell me that's not something you'd want to be a part of."
"Tempting as it sounds, I think it's better to focus on the present before you start making offers your bank can't support," he replied, his gaze level with Sinjir's. "A thousand years is no small feat, but as evidenced, it all comes to an end. The only constant I see is trade, so I'll stick with what I know."
He let that settle in for a moment. "This isn't the first invitation I've turned down, and I don't imagine it will be the last."
Sinjir's expression wavered for a moment, as though deciding between competing responses. At last a smile, thin though it was, curved his lips. "We'll see," he said. "I can be very convincing. And even when I'm not, I'm persistent."
He waved to the waitress, pointing at Kaz's bottle in silent request for another. She nodded and disappeared behind the bar.
"So for now let's just enjoy a nice drink together. Pretend we're normal people who have normal conversations."
Kaz was surprised to find himself glad at the change of topics. He finished the drink before him, pushing the empty bottle to the edge of the table; a smile was suddenly embedded in his mouth, unbidden and difficult to remove.
"I'm not sure I remember what 'normal' is, but I'll try." Leaning back, he bent one arm and set it against the top of his seat. He seemed to think for a moment, his brain reaching for a 'normal' topic of conversation. Finally, his gaze popped up from the table to meet Sinjir's once more as he seemed to grasp something. "What do you normally do for fun? Anything work related is obviously off the table."
"What a caveat," Sinjir laughed. "That kills about three quarters of my answers." He paused as the waitress came and went, switching empty bottle for fresh with a swipe of her hand. Sinjir paid her no attention, all his focus still intently on his guest: specifically on his unexpected smile, and the way it brightened his dark eyes. Sinjir shifted in his seat.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I tinker with things. I go out and eat and drink and try to meet interesting people. Sometimes, if they're lucky, I fuck them." He grinned; Kaz choked in the middle of taking a drink. "But what about you? Is there life outside a Bha'lir ship?"
Massaging his throat, Kaz found his balance. "Doesn't take much to bring you out of your shell, does it?" He took another drink, but aside from his initial shock at Sinjir's answer, he appeared unfazed. He wiped a thumb over his lips, the soft leather soaking up stray drops. Sinjir's gaze closely followed the motion. "And no, there's not much of one, just as I imagine there isn't much outside of the Resistance. But I usually try to work in a card game or two, when possible. There are plenty of fun ways to make credits outside of stealing them.
"And then there's the meeting interesting people, which we can agree on. I certainly wasn't expecting any of this from you. In fact, I'm no longer sure what I expected, exactly."
"I like that. Defying expectations is just one of many services I offer." Sinjir chuckled. "I'm awful at cards. I'm told I have no poker face, if you can believe that.
"So what else is there beneath this man in black thing you've got going? Don't get me wrong, it suits you. But you can't be all work and the occasional card table hustle. What's the best thing you've done since you got sucked into this galaxy?"
A gloved hand moved through Kaz's hair. "Joining the Bha'lir; sorry to disappoint, but a self-made man doesn't get that way through eating and drinking. Even back where I'm from, I wasn't a particularly interesting person."
He reached for his drink, pulling it toward himself. He paused at the lip of the table, his expression growing reflective. Kaz tried to raise the bottle to his lips as though to banish the thought that had appeared, but then reconsidered.
"Have you ever been to Socorro? It's not the most hospitable of places, but I suppose that's what makes it such a good smuggler's outpost. I remember the first time I was there, it felt like I had been transported back through the rift." Back to the Barrel. For a moment, Kaz wondered at why he was suddenly divulging so much; perhaps it was the drink, or it could have been the company. It didn't matter either way, because it just kept coming out.
"There were two boys. Didn't even see them, though I should have. I think I was taken in by everything around me. One cut my purse strings and took off running; it didn't take me long to chase him down, even though I was a complete stranger to the area. I guess what one picks up in one place is easily applied to another." He took a drink. "Caught him, threatened violence. I didn't see the little one coming up behind me, but I felt the knife all the same. His little brother, I think, though his face was so dirty he could have been an animal.
"They were both so skinny." Kaz's gaze was far from the table, from the pub. After a beat, he came to, his gaze flicking to Sinjir's face before he resettled himself in his seat. "I let them keep the purse. Found the older one work. Check up on them every now and again.
"You're right when you say that the Bha'lir like an underdog, but we're concerned first and foremost with the vyvya. We take care of our own." He took another drink; the lip of it hit a tooth, the first sign of his slight inebriation. He pushed a sardonic smile onto his face, as though teasing Sinjir to judge his response. "Does that count?"
Sinjir's own smile was gone, as was another sizable portion of his whisky. The conversation had clearly taken a turn he had not anticipated. But true to his word, he did not seem thrown or put off by it; he weighed carefully what he had heard, staring over at his companion with a furrowed brow. "It does," he said. "I think you're a better man than you recognize. You're definitely more interesting." He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it just as quickly. He had a distinct sense that this glimpse into another life was a rarity, one made less likely to be repeated were he to press further.
"But you did talk about work after we agreed we wouldn't. There's a penalty for that." He signalled the waitress again, who rolled her eyes emphatically enough to be seen from a distance. Still, she made her way back to them, another whisky and a bottle of Utoz in her hands.
Kaz was unperturbed by the additional helping of alcohol, but arched one brow in Sinjir's direction. He knew he hadn't broken his own rule - mostly - but he was willing to play along.
"And what penalty would that be?"
"Another drink, obviously." He pushed the fresh bottle closer to Kaz. "Which comes with a bit more time in my company, for good or for ill." He cleared his throat. Polished off the last of his old glass in a single toss, then turned to the new one. "I've been to Socorro, a while back. Interesting place. Tough to work in, sometimes. What was your home world like that a place like that seems familiar?"
Kaz shook his head, an amused smile playing around his mouth.
"A shit one," he replied. "A place people go to and get trapped and can never leave." He took a swig of the second bottle, taking it slowly. "What about you? Where do you hail from?"
"So you're lucky on top of everything else," Sinjir said. "A ticket out and a brand new life. Not a bad deal, all things considered." He raised his glass in toast. The smile on Kaz's face wavered, undisclosed thoughts warring in his mind in regard to Sinjir's comment. After a quick sip, Sinjir added, "I'm from Akiva. Just a little rock in the Outer Rim territories until just before I was born."
"Until?" Kaz inquired. "I hope nothing happened to it."
"Oh, nothing bad." Sinjir waved a hand, dismissive. "Just your typical overthrowing of the government. We joined the New Republic after that. First of the Outer Rim planets to do so. I missed all that fun, myself, but..." He laughed. "My parents said I was a celebration baby."
"Certainly explains a lot," Kaz remarked, more so to himself than intentionally aloud. "So that's what led into the Resistance for you?" He pulled another long drink, shaking his head. "There I go again, pulling work into our normal conversation. It's always been difficult to separate the two."
Sinjir only laughed in answer. Kaz tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he thought, gloves softening the sound. Finally, his eyes lit up as he stumbled onto a better topic. "Where else in the galaxy have you been to? Or rather, which planet did you find most interesting?"
"Oh, I've been all over," he said. "Mostly along the trade routes, but I've gotten out as far as I can as often as I can. I really love Kashyyyk, but it's a hard place to really get to know. It's beautiful, though, and the Wookies are tougher than you can imagine. They've been through a lot." He paused a beat, filling the silence with a sizable sip from his cup. "But I can't beat Coruscant for sheer hellraising, though. The farther down you go, the more fun you can have. Takodana is a blast, too, but you know. Right now they're preoccupied with rebuilding the castle."
Kaz hummed in response, agreeing on all counts. It would be some time before Takodana would be worth visiting as a guest. He wondered if the remark was Sinjir's way of jabbing him again for not choosing a side; even if it was, he chose not to rise to the bait.
"Coruscant is unlike anywhere else," he agreed. "I was on Kashyyyk for a short period; not enough time to truly get to know it, but I've never seen so many trees in my life. I've never been much of an outdoorsman."
"Yeah, but they're a good combination of outdoorsy and advanced, you know? You take the insects and carnivorous plants with the bowcasters and overall craftsmanship. And there's nothing quite like getting drunk with a bunch of Wookies." Sinjir chuckled. "Drink you right under the table, man. Then under the trees below that."
He tipped his head toward Kaz. "But you travel a lot. What do you like best? Did you travel this much where you're from?"
Kaz shook his head. "Boring, again; throughout everything I've seen, nothing has quite matched Coruscant. A businessman could die happy here." He disregarded Sinjir's second question, taking another long pull from his drink. That one finished, he reached for the third, though he only palmed it for the moment. "It must have been something growing up here, amid all this...strangeness. In the galaxy, I mean. I suppose it's simply normal for you, not strange. It certainly took some getting used to, when I first arrived."
"You've adapted well," Sinjir said. "Better than some natives to this galaxy. Not everyone can handle being out of their comfort zone. So what's strange about it? Or what was, I guess?" He spread his hands, hoping for -- but not particularly expecting -- a deeper dive into his mysterious friend's past. "I know you play your cards to the vest, but you've gotta give me something," he teased.
Kaz opened his mouth to reply when he felt a sharp buzz in his pocket. Without looking away from Sinjir, he pulled a holodevice out, then glanced at its screen; whatever he read there moved all amusement away from his face.
"Unfortunately, I'll have to leave you wanting," he said, putting the device back into his pocket without answering its inquiry. His right hand took the crow's head, and he put the cane firmly onto the floor before standing. "Just means there'll be more for next time, hm?"
Sinjir's frown was immediate and pronounced. He had expected avoidance, not total abandonment, and his disappointment showed on his face. "I certainly hope so," he said. "I'm not used to being left hanging like this." Then the boyish smile was back as quickly as it had gone. He reached for Kaz's barely-touched bottle, pulling it over to himself. "But sure. You can make it up to me later. With interest."
The smirk was back on Kaz's face as he nodded. "We'll see," was his enigmatic reply. With that, he made his way out of the pub and toward whatever fire he had just been alerted to.