Eggs are sides for bacon. [Asari | Open]

[Blackthorne]

Blue Haven Space Station

"What'll ya have, Missy?"
"How's the bacon?"
"Edible."
"Oh good, I'll have bacon ... and two eggs over easy."
"I don't recommend the eggs."

Tricia Anne McMillian frowned over her cup of coffee as she stared at the disgruntled waitress across the bar wondering if they knew on Blue Haven that breakfast was most certainly the most important meal of the day. "Oh," she said after a moment.


"Hotcakes are good. I'll get you some of those dear, and the flimsy's five credits. I'll put it on your bill," the waitress coughed, set down a basin of creamer and toddled off before Tricia could protest the fact that the news flimsy set beside her was not, in fact, hers. She looked at it and frowned again, wondering to whom it belonged, and it looked back up at her forlorn and abandoned.


"Well, I guess if I'm paying for you - let's see what five credits bought me today," she picked it up and tabbed on the holoscreen, a feeling of connection the rest of the galaxy slowly rekindling as she paged through the different sections. Since the untimely death of the Coruscanti Senator she'd been floundering for a job. One would think with all of her qualifications that it would be easy to come by, but apparently job security simply wasn't what it used to be. For now she reached out as a transporter for hire and used her beloved Heart of Gold as a glorified limosine for the rich and famous. The pay was good, generally, but the company left something to be desired and the hours did not promote a healthy sleeping schedule. Her current charge was frolicking about Blue Haven on a shopping spree while she refueld for the remainder of the trip to Spira.

"The Queen's Malcontent - no longer just a threat at court," thumbing to a main article, she peered at the image of a fleet of ships, "hm, funny name for a ship, Queen's Malcontent." In all her years of travel and piloting she'd been lucky enough to never have a run in with hooligans like the crew detailed in the article. Space Pirates were a wily bunch, though her father swore they were a good time, and she had no interest in getting tangled up with any of their sort. Especially since that would void her contract.

"Your hotcakes, Missy," the waitress plopped the plate in front of her.
"Where's the bacon?" Tricia blinked, staring at the plate and watching the syrup ooze comfortably into the empty space where the bacon aught to be.
"We're out."
"Out? But...bacon," lips drawing into a flat line, Tricia gestured towards the plate with a hand.
"I'll get ya another side. Eggs?"
"Eggs are sides for bacon," she gestured at the plate a second time.
"I exercize too, but not for bacon. Eat yer' cakes before they get cold."

Tricia watched the waitress walk away a second time feeling rather defeated. She didn't even like hotcakes. Her commlink agreed with a resounding chirp.


"Captain Tricia McMillian. ...problem? What do you mean there's a problem with my ship? Come back over? Why can't you just tell me now? I see.. I'll be there in a half hour. ...now? But..." she looked at her plate and felt her lips curl towards the floor, "I haven't even had my hotcakes. Ok, fine, I'm coming."

"Leavin' so soon are ya? Let me box that up."
"But I...really you can...geezus she's fast," and before she knew it she had a pile of very happy hotcakes in a plastic container. The woman sighed, picked up the box and made a face at it, "I don't even like hotcakes." All she wanted was bacon, was that so hard? She sighed, paid, and left the little diner.

Time to see what all the fuss was about.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

The trouble with Trillian's ship was actually not with her ship at all, no it was more with the 2 dozen or so pirates outfitted in full combat gear and with blaster rifles sitting all over the hangar bay and upon her ship. They were all calm, all fully collected, and all entirely relaxed. It was actually very strange actually, the fact that this many pirates had made it to this specific location and that they were all just...sitting around. These pirate were of course in the employ of Asari Morin, the self proclaimed Pirate King.

Asari, like any King was at the head of his troops. Instead of sitting upon Trillian's ship, or even near it Asari sat upon a small fold up chair at the entrance of the hangar bay. Flanking him directly were two of his more elite guards, they were dressed in heavy black armor and each had an electro-staff tied to their backs. These men Asari had personally trained, they were his guards, and his best friends. They were as good as the Sovereign Protectors of the Empire, and Asari was intensely proud of them. The Pirate King smiled as he thought of this, and then turned his head upwards to look at one of his men as he spoke.

“So pops....Why do we need this chick again?”

Asari smiled, his boys were always rather inquisitive. Of course the girls were as well, but they had a more...sweet approach much like his wife. The Pirate King thought for a second how to best answer his question, and then finally he spoke to his guard.

“Simple. You are all wanted criminals. Toby, Christian, Lian, Reach, all thirty thousand of you are wanted on one world or another. Now I can't fault you for this of course, I myself was one of the worst criminals of my age. The problem with this however is that I can't take any of you to say...Coruscant. Thats what this girl will be for, she is not only legitimate, but reputable, and with my...condition, I need someone like her with me.”

His guard nodded to him in understanding and Asari grinned slightly, they were smart.

 

[Blackthorne]

The nice thing about space stations was their compact nature - all sorts of things and people packed into a rather small space. Though Blue Haven itself was not large it did boast over three dozen docks that could suit ships twice the size of the Heart of Gold, and at least another four dozen docks for smaller transports. This tiny station town was always buzzing with activity and hosted stores and shops for people of all tastes. It didn't even take an hour to walk from one end of the station to the other, but it did take over a day to traverse the numerous levels and see all that it had to offer. Tricia hoped for her sake that her current client was not the sort to wish to do just that, but she supposed the woman's shopping would give her time to assess the situation at her ship.

And find some bacon.

Upon arriving on level for the south docks, Tricia noticed pretty quickly that something was just a little odd. Striding down the walkway and peering through the glass overhead archway she spotted what appeared to be a small contingent of ships that had not previously been hovering above the south docks just an hour ago. She did not like the way they were hovering and found it curious that they seemed to be grouped near the far docks. The Heart of Gold was stationed in the far docks. Tricia stopped along the walkway to stare and to focus on deepening her frown.


"I hope that's not a posse of fans wanting her autograph," she glanced down to the box of hotcakes in her hands and gave the corners of her lips an extra tug to affirm her growing displeasure, "we'll be here for hours."

You won't find out by standing here, she imagined the hotcakes replying.

"Don't get sassy with me. So help me, I will find a trash can and I will put you in it," she pointed an accusing finger at the box, sighed, and then continued on her way thinking that talking to hotcakes was likely a good sign that she needed to get more sleep.

Ten more minutes passed before the doors to dock 17 South hissed open and gave Tricia a view she was not quite prepared for. Fawny eyes going wide and jaw going slack, she took one step, faltered, and looked around at the gathered Pirates, bewildered.

"Oh ... my," and after assuming a pretty good sweeping look, she blinked several times and looked again just to be sure that she wasn't seeing things now, too. She wasn't and so she let her big green eyes settle upon the closest trio of people sitting just within the entrance. The one looked amiable enough but the two flanking his sides were large and burly and rather unsettling. Her frown returned but this time accompanied by anxious confusion.

"Uhm -" the woman tapped her finger nervously on the box in her hands, glanced at it and then held it towards the man sitting in the middle, "hotcakes?"

Perhaps she could placate him with the most important meal of the day.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Asari sat for a few seconds, more amused and stunned than anything else. The Pirate King sat clamly for a second, not responding to the womans offer for pancakes, or hotcakes of whatever they were called in this galaxy. He was bemused, only if because it had been a while since someone had offered him food instead of just giving it to him. Most of the people on his crew knew about his condition, and thus they all took care of him, or rather pushed care onto him. This made him genuinely smile, although he knew that the woman was just trying to diffuse the situation.

“No, im alright thank you.”

Asari spoke warmly, not exactly kindly but there was no hint of threat or violence in his voice. This would be a good indication, although it was countered by the two dozen or so men sitting around with heavy weaponry and body armor. The Pirate King shifted slightly, letting the hood over his face move so that the woman could at least look him in the eye.

“Youre probably wondering why were here.”

 

[Blackthorne]

"Oh." This seemed to be a popular choice for responses today. She withdrew the box and held it infront of her in an awkward state of wanting to be rid of it but not wanting to make a scene out of it. There wasn't even a desk nearby that she could descreetly slip the box onto and forget to pick it up again. Trillian shortly glanced around her for a bin but to no avail.

Hundreds of bins but never a bin for hotcakes.

She cleared her throat and looked back to the man with the white cowl, watching as his eyes came into view when he shifted and feeling slightly less creeped out.

"You're probably wondering why we're here."

Uhm, no, actually, returning to my ship covered with pirates is a pretty normal thing. Is that guy resting the tip of his blaster on my freshly painted hull? Oh god it hurts so bad...please don't do that.

"It crossed my mind," she squeeked with a wince and watched a pirate idly spin the butt of his rifle on her ship, "are you...taking my ship? Because I'd really rather you didn't. I need it to live."

And pay my mortgage and for my children's private tutoring, and my health insurance and for the root canal I had two weeks ago and -dear god not the navy pinstriping!

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Asari chuckled slightly as the woman suggested they were taking her ship. For some odd reason The Pirate King found that sentiment incredibly humorous. Yes most pirates stole ships, yes they raped, pillaged, and murdered, but they didn't come into hangar bays and steal from starports. Or at least the good ones didn't. He smiled to the woman, and then finally stood up from the chair. This was actually a fairly difficult thing for him to do. While yes he was slightly better than normal, he was still a sick man and still...dying.

“No, I haven't come to take your ship Miss Astra.”

The Pirate King smiled at her and showed her his eyes. They were quite warm, despite rumors to the contrary Asari was actually quite nice as most of his crew could testify to. He Smiled and slowly walked over Trillian in a completely nonthreatening manner. His men stayed in place, they did not move or brandish their weapons, in fact if someone were observant enough they would they were actually trying to be...calming.

“I've come to offer you a job.”

Asari said it with the greatest sincerity, and a smile on his face.

 

[Blackthorne]

"A job?" Trillian sputtered, eyes wide as saucers, "Me? Work with Pir-" her tongue froze mid-word and had a quick internal conversation with her eyes which were taking in a considerable view what with how wide they were becoming. After some back and forth, her tongue then decided it was likely very rude to call people what they were, even if it really was the case. Because who likes to be labled and who in their right mind would go around labeling heavily armed criminals?

"People of questionable intentions," she said, looking somewhat unsure with the way her eyebrows hovered insecurely over her large fawn eyes, "I could lose my license, my reputation and my ship," she pointed at it with her box of hotcakes, giving it a slight jiggle for emphasis, "and we've already been over why that can't happen."

She needed it to live because not only did it do all the aforementioned things, but it also paid for bacon...and this whole exchange was taking away from her time that she could be searching for said bacon. Her stomach overheard her mind muttering about it and gave an embarassingly audible gurgle in return.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Asari smiled at Trillian, were they really all that intimidating that she couldn't even call them what they were? Well he supposed most pirates of this age were rather temperamental what with the plague ravaging their minds and all. The Pirate King stood for a few seconds and looked over the woman. She would do well, she was a bit...odd, but then again this was a Pirate Fleet after all and there were always odd characters. One final time Asari smiled, and then he began to speak convincingly.

“I realize this, that you could lose your license and reputation, but I assure you that you have far more to gain.”

The Pirate King was of course talking about money, and not just money but adventure. The Pirate Fleet was rich, rich beyond any normal persons wildest dreams. They had been raiding, stealing, and incorporating everything they could for the last four years, and Asari was no fool. The riches they had stolen had been used as investments. They had bought shipyards, ships, parts of companies, and hundreds of other things.

Most of the fleets riches were invested, and the crew within the fleet was more than glad for this. Of course everyone got payed, quite well in fact too, but more often than not those within the pirate fleet were more than happy to work off of a...communisti society. They got fed, clothed, outfitted with the best weapons, everything a pirate wanted and needed. Trillian would be different, she would get quite a large sum of money to remain...well legitimate.

“I don't want you to take part in our more...illicit activities. In fact when that occurs I don't want you there at all. The thing is those within my fleet are already well known criminals. Every single person here is a wanted man...or woman, and so are the other 30 thousand within my fleet. All of them are criminals wanted on some planet for some crime, except for me. This poses a problem of course, as I like to travel.” Asari said this with a large bit of recognition in his eyes, he grinned at her. “Basically. I want you to be my face for when I go on these...trips outside of my fleet.”

 

[Blackthorne]

"Thirty-thousand... " Trillian blinked and her eyes bugged out as she tried to imagine another 29,988 peoples of questionable intentions making up his crew. It was a lot of people to become associated with through one man. That was 30,000 people that could blow her cover. 30,000 mouths that could speak her name while obliterated somewhere out in the far dive bars of the galaxy.

"The Pirate King? Oh he's out on Spira getting some sun on those pasty legs of his. Yeah, that weird broad took him. Some pilot from Coruscant, whats-er-name-Astra. Trillian Astra."

I'm not weird! Trillian thought to herself, a line forming between her brows. Her lips drew thin and disappeared as she began to chew on them, eyes taking a distant glaze as they wandered off to one man's shoes that happened to have red splotches on them.

"...how much, exactly, would I have to gain?"

Sweet sunny salamanders, is that blood on that man's shoes?!

Trillian's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs as she rounded her doey-eyed stare back on Asari and released her lips from her teeth with a pop.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Asari smiled, well more like grinned. The allure of money was a powerful thing of course. It had hooked thousands into doing things, well probably more like billions. He hoped that Trillian would not be all about money. His crew while yes, was somewhat based in cash was not all about that. He shrugged slightly and inwardly to himself, he needed a face, and she would make a very, very good one. The Pirate King stared at her for a few seconds, then made a motion to one of his men.

The other pirate jumped down off of the ship and walked up to Asari holding a datapad. The Pirate King took the pad, and then unlocked it. He tapped a few keys on it, and then brought up a list of figures. These were annual sums that the Pirate Fleet made, a list of exactly how much they brought in, and how much they could afford to Pay Trillian each year. The sum was quite impressively high, and the Pirate King gave Trillian the pad with a smug grin on his face.

“We also expect this figure to go up.”

Asari's voice was entirely too smug and entertained.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Oh..." Trillian responded plainly, giving the approaching pirate an expressedly nervous eye flutter. With hands occupied by her boxed hotcakes, she floundered for a moment and then held the box out for the Pirate to place the pad on top of it. She examined the pad in silence.

"OH..." she said again, nostriles flaring, "...my."

Staring in disbelief, she coughed, "I don't-" she sputtered, "that's just-" she took a really deep breath and held it.

That's a lot of commas. I mean, really quite an absurd allotment of commas. That's like two sentence-worth of commas. Her stomach growled loudly - enough so that the Pirate standing nearby gave her an odd look. Trillian ignored him but could not ignore her gut. Lots of commas meant lots of bacon. So much bacon. Shoot, she winced and bit at her lip with a grunt, I'm hungry. Stop thinking about bacon. Think about breathing.

"Bleeeh-" the woman released her breath then held the hotcake box and aforementioned pad out towards the Pirate, "take it-take it-take it-" he took it, "wait, give it back," she looked again and then held it away, "ok, take it." He took it one more time.

"Wait-" Trillian craned her head to look a third time.

"That's enough," said the Pirate, gently.

"That is enough," Trillian agreed, pulling her hotcake box back to her and nodding, mostly to herself, "yes - uhm, I mean, you know. Great. I think ... that's doable, right? What am I saying? I'm not that kind of person. This is crazy... how do you have that kind of money? That's an absurb amount of money, you know. I can't just ... drop everything and sign my life away to work with Pir.... people of questionable intentions and have to be all hush-hush about it and secretive and then my friends would start wondering about me and have an intervention and-" at this point she broke down into nonsensical babbling. The Pirate nearby must have sensed the downward spiral, cleared his throat and flashed her the pad screen again.

"And then there's that. So, would this be a full-time thing or would I just be on call?" Trillian smiled and looked pretty. Flustered. Pretty flustered.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

“Full time i'm afraid.”

Asari grinned at the woman. Staying on the Pirate Fleet was actually quite cozy, especially on the Queens Malcontent. Most of the ships had been completely hollowed out and transformed into more of a luxury yacht than a warship. The Ancient Harrower class Dreadnaught used to carry hundreds of fighters and transports, not it just had the one hangar and room for only about a dozen transports. The rest of it had all been widdled away and transformed into armories and bigger rooms for those that stayed upon the ship.

“You would be staying on my flagship, the Queen Malcontent. You would have your own room, with a bathroom and a kitchen. It's quite nice, my Wife and I share a similar set nearer the bridge. Of course you would have...vacation as it were. But most of the time I would require you to ferry me places. The Fleet isn't exactly..stealthy.”