Board Thread:Archive/@comment-24866242-20140611003058

Ben Stinel posted August 09, 2001 12:43 AM Chasing Shadows

Early morning on the Colorado was quiet. Ben wasn’t in the habit of getting up this early but he had some work to do and so he had made an exception. At least the coffee was fresh.

The bridge was deserted. There wasn’t any point in keeping it staffed when they were in space dock. The view screen showed a top down view of the ship from the docking ring of Nash Station. Ben took a long look at it from the back of the bridge after emerging from the turbo lift and then walked forward. Not to the captain’s chair but to tactical. Jarrid’s station was better equipped for the work he had to do.

Ben kept a weekly ritual. Every Monday morning he woke up early and started checking his network of contacts that had been feeding him information about the Naylor Consortium. So far information had been sparse. The only real information about the consortium existed in the form of property deeds and a few mining claims out in the armpit of the galaxy. Right near New Oregon. The Consortium was his best lead at this point as to who was influencing events in the New Oregon Civil war. Hell, it was his only lead.

“What have we got today?” he asked himself and sat down in Jarrid’s chair. “Anything new?” He sipped his coffee while the system downloaded his messages. Humming to himself, he watched while the machine scoured the server for any new information he could use.

He was looking for a particular message. A couple of weeks ago he had gotten a communiqué from a man who thought he could put him in contact with a Consortium agent. He had been waiting for a follow up from the man ever since. He set his coffee cup down while he sifted through the crap on his screen. Still nothing. He leaned back in his chair and frowned. The individual in question, a contract freighter captain by the name of Timothy Bishop, had never gone quiet this long. He usually had two or three messages a week from the man but it had been two weeks since the offer to arrange the meeting and not a word. Bishop wasn’t the first contact to have gone quiet. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it always seemed to be the useful leads that dried up on him just as he thought he was getting close to something.

“Back to square one, computer.” Ben told the machine. “Search the new messages using the same patterns as before. Reference anything that directly mentions the Naylor Consortium first.”

The computer chirped and flashed the results on his screen.

No messages match search parameters.

Ben blinked. That couldn’t be right. Even in a slow week he found at least twenty possible matches.

“Computer, verify search results for me.”

The word “Confirmed” blinked twice on the screen.

“Search all records on the news services for any record of the Naylor Consortium.” Ben was worried now. There was always something even if it wasn’t useful.

No records match search parameters.

Very worried. Time to try old records now. “Computer, display the image of the mining claim for system O3b in the New Oregon cluster. Access the official record, not the cached copy.”

After a few seconds while the proper subspace connections were made the image appeared. Three days ago the record had listed the holder of the claim as the Naylor Consortium. Now the claim was listed under the name of a private trader. Every other record he knew of yielded the same results. Private individuals. He even set the computer to search for any reference to the Naylor Consortium anywhere with no success. It was gone. He had failed.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Ben had not gotten used to the idea by that night so he found another way to cope. Beer. Ben wasn’t a drinker. Maybe some wine once in a while for a very special occasion. Mostly he stuck to water. That was what tipped Kat off when he showed up at Stars End.

He glanced around after walking in and spied Kat sitting alone at a table with a tattered old paperback and fending off the overzealous attentions of one of the local mutts. Ben dropped into a chair next to her and sat there for a few minutes staring at his beer, taking drinks from the bottle on occasion. He knew Kat always got nervous when he was quiet like that so he wasn’t surprised that it didn’t take her long to start giving him the third degree.

“Wha’s yer problem?” she asked, frowning at him.

Ben swigged his beer and didn’t answer her, still staring at nothing.

Normally, his silence would have been the end of it. Normally. But normally he wouldn’t be sitting in front of her staring into a beer bottle as if all of life’s answers could be found inside. So she didn’t let it go. Eventually she dragged the whole story out of him. After the initial shock that morning he had determined that the Naylor Consortium was nothing more than a dummy organization. And now it was gone. Not a trace of it. Kat didn’t see the problem.

“Tis simple… W’go there.” She announced.

Joslynne ZyThyrn posted August 28, 2001 07:19 PM

The office was black. Not black in the sense that there was no light. Nearly everything in the room was simply coated in some form of the color or another; Black lacquer desk, black leather chair, onyx vases and candlesticks. The only thing that wasn’t black was the carpet. Most if the thick pile was pure snow white. At the moment, a large part of that whiteness… the part directly in front of her desk… was covered by the duller, filmier white of plastic sheeting. To those who knew the woman, and there was only one who truly knew her, would shudder at the possibilities that plastic brought to mind. Old habits died hard…besides, why ruin a perfectly good carpet?

The three men before her were not among the unprivileged few who understood. Perhaps if they had, they would be more obvious in their cowering. “It would seem, gentlemen, that there is a problem within my organization and one of you is responsible.” The men fidgeted. No one spoke.

After several minutes of staring at them, observing them silently, she re-crossed her ankles on that massive black desk, causing the already short leather skirt to ride up even further on her thighs. She sighed dramatically. “You do not deny this.”

As if her words had brought two of the men back to life, they began to speak rapidly, each trying to out-shout the other. This only lasted a few seconds. Without much effort, the woman lifted a blaster that had been, until now, hidden from view. The weapon fired only once. For the moment, it was all she needed to get her point across. In that brief flash, one of the three crumbled to the plastic covered carpet, his life, in the form of cerebral fluid and matter, draining from the rather large hole between his eyes. In that brief flash, silence was regained.

She took her time returning the blaster to its hiding place. She felt no need to keep it in sight. Perhaps the remaining two men felt she was giving them time to compose themselves. Perhaps she took her time simply to terrorize them further. In either case, she succeeded in accomplishing both.

“Ms. ZyThyrn. Perhaps you are mistaken.” The sniveling little rat of a man took a step sideways away from the body. “Those who work for you are loyal, Ma’am. We would never do anything to damage your operation.” Another shaky step carried the man closer to her desk. “If you would allow me to prove that…” Perhaps he realized the rashness of his statement. There would be no way to prove such a thing to the woman before him. Even as the words escaped his lips, she could see the futility reflected in his beady little black eyes. He stammered. “I….I……….I mean…” A reappearance of the blaster released the man of his worldly suffering, both physical and emotional.

“Mr. Bishop. I do hope you will not lower my opinion of you by whimpering and sniveling like these men.” The burly black man held his ground, his dark chocolate eyes holding neither fear nor shock. This intrigued her. “Information has been leaking. I have it on good authority that these two men were involved… perhaps not together, but they were involved. As you are currently standing before me, it could be assumed that you are suspected as well.”

He was not a righteous man. Plain and simple, he did it for the money. She knew it. More importantly he knew she knew it. There was no point in lying. He would die in any case. Instead of answering in words, he simply held his arms from his sides, inviting her to take the shot he knew would be coming. Such choice invitations were rarely refused.

His death was slow…. agonizingly slow. His mind was too far-gone in the instant before his death to recognize the relief his giving up the ghost would cause. His mind had snapped hours before his death. It had snapped hours after he had awoken, surprised to find himself strung spread eagle from the ceiling. Surprised to find himself alive.

In the beginning, he knew he would be tortured. Her reputation had been enough to insure it, should he be caught. But he never planned on getting caught. Of course, no one ever plans on getting caught.

He tested his bonds, as she knew he would. They always did. His skin was dark, but something in his mannerisms suggested he was blushing at the realization that his clothing had been removed. His modesty was short lived.

She did not enter the room. There was no need. The window she sat before allowed enough of a view to enjoy the “show” once it started. It also allowed the man to watch her… to see her enjoyment at his expense, at the expense of his life.

“Mr. Bishop. I regret to inform you that you are an idiot. Perhaps you did not understand what would happen should you cross me. You will understand soon enough. The information you passed on is of no consequence. You have not done enough damage to destroy me. It won’t even put a dent in my operation. To put it bluntly, Mr. Bishop, you will die for nothing.”

Timothy Bishop, freighter captain and informant to Benjamin Stinel of New Oregon, knew the last of her words to be true. Internally, he berated himself for getting involved. He never got involved. The money had been too tempting, however. Now, as she said, he would die for nothing. Not even the money he would have received if his last transmission had not been intercepted.

An odd chittering sound drew his attention away from his thoughts. Through several small openings at the base of the walls, creatures began to emerge. At first glance, they looked like Terren roaches, an irritating, yet harmless insect. Bishop nearly sighed with relief. Nearly. Upon closer inspection, his terror grew. These “roaches” were Sydarnian Flesh Beetles. The beetles were known carnivores that preferred live prey to carrion. In order to keep their prey alive they used their acidic saliva to cauterize the flesh, insuring the victim did not bleed to death. It usually took a swarm of Flesh Beetles several hours to devour a man. In droves, the insects would attack and retreat in waves as they ate their fill, returning as their fast metabolism burned up what had previously been consumed. This would not prove to be an exception.

As she watched, the soft strains of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played in the background. In some perverse way, the melody seemed to fit the man’s agony as the beetles began their evening meal with his feet. She would not hear his screams; the soundproofing in both rooms took care of that. Although she gained great pleasure in the cries of the tortured and dying most times, today, her tastes reveled in the more sublime. Today, she would need inspiration.

It took several hours for the insects to make their way up the man’s legs to his thighs, leaving behind cleanly stripped bone in their wake. During this time, he was kept both alive and fully conscious by the constant dripping of Meltor into the I.V. plugged into his neck. Although she was clinical in her observations of Bishop’s torture, she found herself strangely aroused by the fact that soon, her “pets” would be feasting on the man’s genitals. It was a shame that both Caedwynne and Axin were busy off ship. The experience could be rather satisfying.

She had just leaned closer to the window when a brisk knock interrupted her thoughts. Without waiting for a reply, the person seeking entrance simply stepped through the door. Head buried in his P.A.D., Lawrence began speaking almost immediately. “I found something you might want to-” He cut off as he looked up and saw what she was watching.

Amused, she actually watched the poor man turn green. Not some pale, sickly green, but a deep, florescent shade of chartreuse. She kept the amusement out of her voice. “Yes Lawrence? Is there something I can help you with?”

He didn’t answer her. He appeared to be fixated on the scene behind the glass. After a moment of staring like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming planet side freighter transport, he abruptly turned and dashed back into the hall. The sound of him retching reached her through the opened doorway. She knew he hadn’t made it very far before losing not only his daily meals, but every meal for the past week. She’d have to remember to have the cleanup crew that came for Bishop take care of that too.

Not overly interested in what Lawrence had found, she returned her attention to the man behind the glass, pleased to see that Lawrence’s interruption had not caused her to miss the “main event”.

Ben Stinel posted August 28, 2001 07:21 PM

The Star’s End Bar was not exactly Ben’s favorite place. In Fact, there were several places he would rather be, but Kat seemed to like the place and she was most likely inside. He stood at the front door and looked up at the neon sign that provided most of the light on the narrow street in front of the bar. There wasn’t much happening in that light. The area seemed to be pretty much deserted which was unusual for such a late hour. He didn’t really worry though. If anything maybe it would be peaceful for once. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walked inside.

It was empty. Well, not exactly. There was a woman standing by the bar but otherwise the place was as deserted as the street outside. Ben was surprised to realize that he could hear himself breath. Vacant tables and chairs seemed lonelier for the dim light.

He walked over to the bar and nodded to the woman as he reached across to take a bottle of water in the absence of the bartender. She nodded back. “Slow night?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” she answered as he glanced around the bar with a small frown. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here.”

He didn’t answer her. It wasn’t an intentional slight. He just hadn’t heard her. Nevertheless she persevered. “Looking for someone?”

“My sister,” he answered. “She’s usually here but I guess no one is here tonight.”

“You can always talk to another,” she told him.

Ben never could take a hint. “I suppose I could,” he answered around a drink of water, still looking around the empty and darkened bar.

The woman appeared to take that as a refusal. “I won’t force you to talk to me,” she said with her eyes cast down.

Ben turned and looked at her for the first time since walking in. She was bald, he noticed, but that wasn’t really too out of the ordinary. What was unusual was the tail. No, that wasn’t really out of the ordinary either. She was tall. Only a few inches shorter than he was. He was so used to looking down to talk to Kat that he had a permanent crook in his neck. He felt it crack as he tilted his head back to look her in the face.

“That wasn’t what I meant. I’d be happy to talk to you.”

“Maybe.”

He raised his eyebrows. She had seemed so hurt when she thought he didn’t want to talk to him and now she was turning it around on him. “I won’t force you to talk to me either.” He felt more than heard someone moving on the other side of the bar behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his sister standing there. “Hi, Kat,” he greeted her absently as he returned his attention to the other woman. There was something odd about his sister’s clothes but it wasn’t something that really caught his attention. He had already glanced away to face the woman before the abnormality caught hold in his mind.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” the woman told him, looking back up at him.

He chuckled and realized that another patron had walked in. The woman began talking to the newcomer and Ben watched idly. He rested his hand on the top of his bottle of water and made a show of watching condensation slide down the edges.

A pinprick on the back of his neck stole his attention. He stood up sharply and whirled to face Kat, knocking over the water as he turned. He frowned at her, actually seeing her for the first time since she had stepped up behind him. She smirked at him. It wasn’t Kat’s smirk. Kat’s smirks were never pure evil.

She casually walked a few steps down the bar and lifted the hinged section of the counter before moving to stand next to him.

“Kat?” He blinked slowly as he tried to maintain his focus on her. She had drugged him with something! Why would she…?

She leaned closer to him, watching his eyes. “Welcome to my world, Benjamin Stinel.” The whisper was soft enough not to draw the attention of the other two patrons but loud enough that he could understand.

He understood. He pushed away from the bar and started moving clumsily toward the door, stumbling as he tried to get away.

“Ahh… careful there, Ben,” she said, catching up to him and lacing her arm through his. From anyone else’s point of view she would be holding him up. It wasn’t far from the truth. He could feel his legs turning to water from the drug. “Too much to drink, my dear?”

Ben shook his head and tried to push her away. At the same time he fumbled at his belt for his communicator, botching both attempts by splitting his attention. The communicator was easily snatched away from his now clumsy fingers.

“You should really watch those spirits. You know how they sneak up on you.” She dropped the communicator and kicked it away.

“Any problems?” The woman at the bar had glanced up from her conversation and was looking at him with a worried expression.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, my dear… He had a little too much to drink earlier is all.” Her free hand moved to her belt for an instant before she returned it to his arm and continued to support him.

Ben looked at the woman and tried to yell at her that something was wrong! This wasn’t Katrylle it was someone else! All he managed to do though was mumble, “She’s not… not my…” before his tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. It was enough.

“Not your sister?” The woman’s face darkened as she regarded the anti-Kat. Something seemed to force its way between Ben and his assailant and he fell as he lost the support she had been providing. He looked up in time to see her smiling triumphantly at him as the transporter beam took them both.

Joslynne ZyThyrn posted August 28, 2001 07:22 PM

Lawrence had done his job well. Perhaps it was a good thing she hadn’t killed him the first time they had met. In all the years she had been chasing Kat, she had never had information this solid before. She’d never tell him this, but Lawrence was a genius with a computer.

She had entered the dingy little shit-hole of a bar early. Intel told her that her prey usually began her nights around 9pm and Jos wanted to make sure she had a ringside seat to watch. Initially, it was all she intended to do….watch….but even the best laid plans….

She had been secreted away in a darkened booth nursing a glass of rare and expensive whiskey when the doors opened. A tall woman had barely stepped through when an order was barked for the guard surrounding her to “cloak”. Upon the command, the men shimmered into nothingness, a feat Jos herself would have to learn the secret of someday. The woman approached the bar and appeared not to notice Jos. If she had, she did not say anything.

It took several moments before the door opened again and, finally, someone Jos had been anticipating arrived. Benjamin Stinel, only surviving member of the House of Stinel, brother by marriage to Katrylle Morgahn. Sandy hair brushed over the eyes that held both a look of contempt and boredom for the firetrap known as the Stars End Bar. She could see the resemblance to Lawrence, but she could also appreciate the great pains Lawrence had taken not to look like his double. The stoop, the stringy hair….even the glasses were all props to keep her computer expert from being mistaken for the man before her now. Or, perhaps he merely wished to hide from those who would seek Stinel out. It didn’t much matter to her either way.

Jos absently sipped from her glass as she watched every move, heard every syllable Stinel uttered. He was much like his counterpart. Quiet, unassuming…unarmed. The last brought a slow smile to her lips and the ticklings of an idea to her brain. She had never been one to stick to a plan if a better opportunity presented itself and, seeing that Stinel seemed to carry no fire power, she decided on a small experiment.

The thought excited her as she slipped from the booth. There were still the guards she couldn’t see to contend with, but for the moment, she wanted to test Stinel’s reaction. Moving quietly, she slipped behind the bar and stood directly behind him, making sure the exit through the kitchen was at her back in case the need arose for a quick getaway. It would have been simple to reach across the bar and touch him from her position. Instead, she refilled her glass from the dusty old bottle she had found earlier, hidden behind the standard stock. Still, he did not sense danger. It seemed as though he might not even have sensed her until he happened to glance over his shoulder. “Hi Kat”

She did not reply. She knew that to do so would jeopardize her position. Kat had a very distinctive accent, one that many people found hard to get use to. Stinel, she knew, was use to it. It was not something Jos could duplicate, though lord knew she had tried.

She hadn’t really paid attention to the other woman since Stinel had entered. Only the woman’s cloaked guards caused her to stray from her instincts. Several times she had wondered where they were…how close…and how many weapons. But the simplicity of the idea forming was too good to give up. Still, she found herself weighing her options, her fists clenching and unclenching with the indecision. Yes, it would be easy to reach out, to kill him if it were to come to that. The surprise would catch everyone unaware…including the guards. But she didn’t want him dead. Not yet at least. If Kat was as caring for this one as Lawrence had stated, it would be far worse for her to know that Ben was in her custody, perhaps suffering the same treatment provided to Ryax a year ago. Oh yes, the torture would be grand, but for Kat, the imaginings of what would be happening would be far more painful than anything the man before her would suffer.

No, she found she could not resist. He had only looked back at her once more during the moments she stood pondering, but the look told her that he felt off about who she was. Silently, she lifted her hand, the Onyx ring glittering on her finger. Perhaps it was cliché, but yes, the ring did have a needle on the back, one that could easily ooze with poison or, in this case, a med to induce sleep. It took a fraction of a second to introduce the med into his bloodstream. It took only a touch. She knew he would feel the prick, but once felt, there would be nothing he could do about it. He would be hers this night.

The med was not instantaneous. It would not do to simply have him fall to the floor in front of witnesses. Glancing around, she was surprised to see that sometime, another patron had entered the bar and was now engaged in conversation with the woman.

Quickly, she moved around the bar as Stinel attempted to stumble away. Sliding an arm though his, she hoisted his body, keeping him on his feet even as she snagged the communicator from his hands. The communicator hit the floor as if dropped by accident. A well-placed kick sent the device across the room.

“Any problems?” Stinel’s staggering had caught the woman’s attention. Not good. If the woman became too interested, there would probably be intervention from her guards.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, my dear. He had a little too much to drink earlier is all.” Balancing the unbalanced man beside her, she managed to press the button to her own communicator, indicating to her ship, the Midnight Angel that it was time to leave…and leave fast.

“She’s not…” Where a moment before she thanked the gods for the slow acting med, she now cussed them for not making it work faster.

“Yes, he’s right… I’m not going to let him drink any more.” She tried to keep the others off balance. Tried to keep them guessing with fast words and an even faster transit. Only one apparently worked.

“Not your sister?” the woman was quick. But how quick would her guards be? Beside her, Stinel tried to finish his sentence, not realizing that it had already been finished for him. Even as she began to feel the first fluttering of the transit, something stronger inserted itself between Stinel and herself, pushing them away from each other like two opposing magnets. It didn’t matter, however. The teleporter had its hold on them and soon, they would be where no one could get to him. 