"Alive and well." Jor'eth confirmed, having had the Urbot placed in a separate cell in the brig when he learned that Quintus was keeping it in his pack. "...For now, at least." The Di'mun added with the dangerous kind of grin his species was known for. "As for later... Well I'm still having trouble deciding that." With a flash of fire and brimstone, a signed contract appeared floating in mid-air above Jor'eth's hand. "You see, the contract we have with Pasha Arlox only dictates what it is we are to do with you, Cho-Tyrek. That is to say, return you to the Ashen Knives alive if possible and dead if necessary... But no mention was made of the Urbot. Neither in the wording of the contract, nor the negotiations leading up to it." There was another flash as the document subsequently vanished in a manner similar to how it arrived. "So we have a bit of wiggle room on how to deal with her."

Jor'eth brought a hand to his chin then as he adopted a thoughtful demeanor. "The simplest course of action would be to hand her off to the Knives along with you. I'm sure they'd be grateful to us for bringing them the target you missed... Though would that gratitude come in the form of something beneficial to us? Possibly. Possibly not... Taking her to the Guild of Engineers would guarantee such a thing though. They have a standing bounty on escaped Urbots, after all... Though perhaps you don't like either of those prospects. Perhaps you would prefer something a little different. Perhaps something like... us handing your little friend off to Conclave 01 would be more to your taste... Personally, I don't enjoy the thought of that at all. Far too-" The Di'mun shuddered in disgust at what he was about to say. "-altruistic for my liking... Though I could be tempted to go that way if someone were to somehow make it seem less like an unpalatable kindness to me." Jor'eth turned to look directly at Cho then. His eyes faintly glowing with an unnatural reddish hue as he spoke. "Tell me, Cho. You've given up much for that Urbot. Your job. Your way of life. Very soon your very life itself... Which begs the question..."

A third flash of fire and brimstone heralded the arrival of another contract. This one unsigned.

"How much more are you willing to give for her sake?"

Molly sucked in her cheeks and made an O with her lips in the human pantomime of a scary ghost, then glanced to the cell in which the urbot was currently incarcerated.

"I should probably point out that that Ijin shot the urbot in the legs. Nothing serious, it... she is fine," she hastened to add, then paused to consider.

"I wouldn't be too offended, Ijin does everything via sniper rife, cleaning his teeth - sniper rifle, mucking out the head - sniper rifle, auto-masturbation... well you get the idea."

Quintus was positively bored, his big arms crossed and his hips cocked casually. He had been prepared to wade into the cage and have to grapple or beat Cho into submission, but this was nothing but a forlorn request. Granted, he had heard it hundreds of times, and from people who were crying, slobbering for mercy. This was relatively tame by comparison.

He also understood the, say, enjoyment of cruelty. The power one felt. It was the same power one felt when they won a competition, or proved someone wrong in an argument, or was vindicated in anger. Only more satisfying. However, he typically felt it mostly keenly in combat. Here, it was a bit unappetizing. What he wanted now was to make it back, and once again, get paid.

He gave a deadpan glance at Jor'eth, before regarding Cho. "How about this, Ty. You give us no problems, make no run for it, and your little Ur bot won't be harmed." He offered. As long as his credits were guaranteed, he was happy. The leverage just made it more likely.

Cho-Tyrek avoids Jor'eth's eyes, even as he listens to his words. When he speaks up, though, he looks at Quintus. (Maybe it's because he's offering the best terms--or maybe it's as simple as having more respect for a fellow purveyor of violence than he does for the xeno.)

"Yes, I offer you my word that I will go peacefully if you bring no further harm to her, and do not deliver her to those who would do so in your stead." He slumps against the wall of the brig, the last bit of will that was propping up his broken body having vanished as he discharges this last duty. "I don't know who this Conclave is, but when I found her, she was being brought to a rendezvous." He rattles off a string of stellar coordinates from memory. "I understand that there's someone there who is waiting for her. Maybe they can give you the material reward you're searching for."

He falls slowly sideways, laying his body down on the cot; before you can interject further, he's fallen into a deep sleep.

Jor'eth snarled in frustration as he watched the man who had refused to even acknowledge him lapse back into unconsciousness. "MIINO!" The Di'munic Speaker suddenly shrieked.

"Yeah boss?" The ship's Mechanic answered.

"Set up a meeting with the Guild of Engineers for after we've handed our prey here off to the Knives." Jor'eth ordered. "Tell them we have a little... apology gift for them as a peace offering regarding that fracas we had a while back about the source of the Cerb's new toys."

"On it, boss." Miino voiced his compliance as he opened the Space Email app on his computer.

Your ship approaches the rendezvous point. The sleek lines of the Wages of Sin--Pasha Arlox's private yacht--hang in the void, right where you were told it would be. Its glossy hull reflect the blackness of space and the pinpricks of distant stars, but pulsing lines of color along its vertices pick it out from the background. It flashes its transponder as you get into range, confirming its identity; apparently, the Pasha has already established your identity to their satisfaction.

Arlox's hands are clasped behind their back as they wait on the other end of the airlock. The Pasha is a small person, and the towering guards flanking them on either side don't exactly make them look any taller. Long, expensive-looking robes hide everything else except their head; their face is finely featured, and while their eyebrows have been shaven--hair replaced by a series of silver and gold piercings--jet-black hair falls in a straight line down their back, all the way to their waist. At face value, not a very impressive sight--but you notice that the guards, who are quite impressive-looking, show clear deference to this diminutive figure.

"Ah, the Cerberus," a musical voice greets you onto their ship; Arlox's mouth curls up in a slight smile. "Good hunting, I take it?"

Ijin quietly hung a short way back from the rest of the group that had come aboard the Wages of Sin. Officially, he was doing so to watch the group's back in case the Pasha tried anything, as Jor'eth believed they would when he noticed that the bodyguards were carrying holy symbols, preventing the Di'mun from personally taking part in the hand over. Unofficially, Ijin was keeping his distance because his every instinct screamed out against getting too close to the action unless he had no other choice. In fact, the sniper's every instinct was screaming out against a lot of things about this situation. There was not likely to be much to do here that was related to sniping. It was only the potential that an opportunity for sniping would come up and the fact that he would receive money that could be spent on upgrading Finbl that kept things ambiguous enough for Shogbimbhald to reserve His judgment for the time being. Even so, Ijin was still walking on a tightrope. One wrong move and he would experience firsthand the terrible penalty that was leveled against any Gweldite who deviated from their purpose.

Needless to say, Ijin was feeling incredibly uneasy.

"Hey! Hi!" Molly called out waving energetically to Arlox. She was almost bouncing with excitement, riding the high of deep space as well as a chance to oggle a sleek and sexy ship like the Wages of Sin. RU-0K clung to her shoulder, showing better judgement than his owner by trying to slide onto her back to keep out of sight.

"All good in the stellar neighbourhood," she continued happily, "package is alive and kicking in our brig."

She took a step towards Arlox, spreading her arms as though to hug. One of the guards stepped into her way and Molly hugged the guard instead, patomiming kisses on either cheek.

Quintis appeared from the ship, assigned to take stock of the prisoner. The gun-for-hire approached with Cho-Tyrek a pace in front of him. He pushed the figure forward with a shove every few meters to keep the pace, letting Arlox take a good look at the bounty head before Molly went over and did what she did best. The paramilitary groaned softly, and knelt down to lift Molly up, draping her over his broad shoulder like he was carrying a rolled up rug.

"Swing me around, I want to see the ship!" Molly called, and Quintus did as she bid, turning just so, in order for her to see the distant figure of The Wages of Sin. He kept one arm wrapped around her legs while the other stayed firmly on Cho's shoulder.

"God, it's sexy..." Molly breathed from behind him, awe in her voice.

"You wouldn't have called us if you had doubts." Quintus said to Arlox, ignoring the pilot draped over him. "He wasn't too hard to track down." Quintus kept the ur-bot on the ship, in accordance with his end of the deal. Cho had been as meek as a lamb ever since he made the promise. Quintus had fucked people over before, but it wouldn't serve any purpose here. "I take it we'll be paid shortly?"

The guard Molly hugged nearly goes for his weapon, but before he can move more than a hair the Pasha rests their delicate fingers on his arm in a staying gesture; the large man tenses for a second, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but makes no further moves towards violence.

(The other guard eyes Ijin. His too-knowing gaze rest on the xeno's face, then his rifle, and something in the man's expression changes. Both Ijin and Quintus have seen enough combat to know what it is--he's just dismissed the sniper as a threat.)

The pasha moves past their bodyguard and smiles at Cho-Tyrek, then up at Quintus. For his part, the former assassin says nothing, nor does he make any attempt to resist.

(When the Pasha looks away, though, he does turn his head back towards Quintus. Just for a moment.)

"Your payment, yes, of course." Arlox holds up a hand to someone behind them without looking, and an elderly man in robes similar to (though not nearly as fine as) the Pasha walks up holding a briefcase. He shuffles forward, then holds it out and opens up the latch and presents its contents: neatly stacked rows of Hegemonic cred-sticks. From the looks of things, it's all there.

The old man closes the case, then hands it off and shuffles back behind the Pasha. That worthy spreads their hands. "It's a pleasure doing business with professionals, but unfortunately I cannot ask you to stay for tea. The longer I remain in this system the more likely it becomes that my fellow Knives will be able to prove I was involved in this little excursion into their territory." They waved a hand airly. "Which they surely already know, but knowing and proving are very different things. I trust that I will be able to count on your discretion." It's a statement, not a question, and Arlox doesn't wait for an answer before retreating back into their ship, flanked by a portion of the airlock's guard detail.

---

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CRED EARNED: 6
UPKEEP: (System Quality(6) + Crew Quality(0))/4 = 1
TOTAL: 5 CRED

HEAT: Rin System, +3 Heat

ENTANGLEMENTS: 5 - Cooperation (You don't yet have a +2 relationship with a faction, so you get off free this time.)