2 - Finder's Fee
Kew Colony City
Colonial Space
Upper Wards
Early Morning
Jana looked out of place. She had looked out of place for the last four hours. Frankly, she was starting to forget why she was even here.
A twenty-something vulpes vixen. Sand colored coat of short-length fur with white highlights on and around her snout. Tall. Not just for a lady either. A vertical tuft of wispy hair atop her head. She kept it naturally wavy, as Influenced by her mother of had an olive-coloured flight suit that left little of her athletic shape to be imagined despite being standard fleet-wear. It was covered by an antique, rugged-looking, white pleather flight jacket. Flight gloves and a vulpes ear custom-fit beanie hat nestled in its pockets.
Colony City was a rough town, but there were numerous indicators that Gustavos's was one of those little establishments that even the local passersby avoided.
For one, the obnoxious gang graffiti on the beige stucco exterior. Second, the trio of blaster marks perforating the aluminum front door. The holes melted outwards the exterior indicating that the shots must have originated from the inside. Context was key; there was no mercy for runners here. Actually, there was no mercy for anyone if they got into the shit here.
Inside, patrons would be pleasantly surprised if they kept their gaze above waist-level and off the corners. The soft purple glow of Kew's cold sun shone through the porthole skylights. The countertop was far finer than one would expect. Nice Fortunan oak panels with beveled edges. Its surface, beautifully pitted with a gloss waterproof enamel overlay. A set of festive strand lights was suspended from corner to corner, Illuminating a sickly green carpet. Horrid amount of stains and burn marks. Eyes up. Focus.
The chorus of cheers and the clacking of billiards as some patron's break shot gave him the early lead.
It was Jana's fourth night in Kew Colony. Like all business trips, she liked to end it with a little reward for herself. In this case the nearest bar where she could drink in relative anonymity; a place she wouldn't be recognized. It was always a faintly-lit dive bar. Usually lasting until closing or until she felt it too dangerous to stumble her way out.
Unusually, there was another woman out here tonight. Rough looking Lynx, mid-forties, absolutely massive arms. Much rougher looking than Jana to be sure, to Jana's detriment. The vixen was hit on relentlessly for a couple of hours, but one-by-one the would-be suitors left to find easier targets elsewhere. Jana and the Lynx made eye contact for a few seconds and it was every bit as awkward as she expected it would be. Are we supposed to be in this together or something?
Jana wasn't here to meet anyone tonight; she'd had people-watched enough in the last couple days. Her social batteries were full.
Gustavo's was a spacer's bar of course; and rougher one at that. The solitude and drinks were enough company for her. Pirating was still predominantly a man's game, after all. But they made good drinks strong, cheap and fast. Which was more her style most nights. The other patrons were of a rougher type, of course, but once they got the message she wasn't interested in conversation they got bored and pissed off to their own corners.
Jana unconsciously toyed with the top tab on the near empty can before her. She began the night accompanied by two sequential glasses of the fantastically greasy house ale; Lukewarm, all foam. She then graduated to a locally brewed canned tripel ale to make up for the previous drink's weakness. It was absolute dogshit, but it got one buzzed, She reasoned.
On the countertop in front of Jana was a little placard that read 'reserved'. Not for her of course. The seat had been vacant all night so far so she figured she'd have some fun with it. It was a nice spot; back to the wall, full visibility to entrance and a window to dive out of if things went south. She didn't know who it belonged to, and truth be told she had ample reason to be unafraid of confrontation.
Buzzed as she was, the vulpes still had keen eyes. The barkeep had served her with growing anxiety over the last hour. The greasy little rat frequently glanced over his shoulder in increasing panic as the hands on the rustic clock hit 0300. The witching hour. She should have anticipated what came next.
The door to the establishment slammed open, nearly knocking over a miserable looking plant in the corner. Pushed with enough force that it left a new crack in the stucco wall. There were several of them on the wall from previous entries.
An absolutely massive bovine pushed through the doorway. A hog. At least one-hundred fifty kilos and about just under two meters tall, He had to duck his head under the stucco archway to get into the establishment. Jana, always facing the door, never took her eyes off the man. She couldn't believe Horsch made flight suits in that size.
A disgusting, wheezing laugh permeated the bar environment as he greeted an old friend. A bulky pistol slung across his belt, suspended like those in an old cowboy movie for a seated quick draw. Plasma too. Nasty stuff.
He pat a few patrons on the back. A lizard here, a canine there. All the while uttering words Jana was too drunk to give a shit about before meandering his way to the back of the bar.
Standing so close to The vixen that she could feel the heat wafting off of him. Jana couldn't see him, but he felt him looking right through her.
"My seat, if you please," he groveled, his words meant more as a threat to the bartender than her.
The pig's voice was accompanied by the awful stench of half-smoked cigar, polluting Jana's airways. The bartender responded with a quiver. His hands shook as he attempted to pour the pig's ale.
"Ma'am, I-I can set you up s-somewhere else."
Jana didn't even turn around. Clasping her left hand down her eyes and snout. Trying to laugh to herself quietly; but it was audible.
"Please," the rat begged, now leaning over to Jana.
I can't believe my luck! Jana thought. Remembering why she'd come to Gus's in the first place.
His seat was the only corner bar seat; facing the front door.
"Lass," The drunken swine rumbled, its breath still plagued with the remnants of that truly vile cigar, "I don't think you heard me."
"This is my seat."
It was all menace in his voice now, but he let his size do the talking as Jana felt his body press up against the barstool. The pig's disgusting hand over her left shoulder and grasping the bar tops edge.
Jana cocked her head just so slightly to study the man. She had to make absolutely sure he wasn't too much a threat before provoking.
"Do you have a reservation?" She asked in the most faux-innocent voice she could muster.
There was a brief struggle, though it was very one-sided. As it had turned out, the colossal bovine was a threat to Jana.
With one girthy forearm across the back of the fox's neck, he grabbed at her right shoulder and twisted her back like she was a toy. In the ensuing struggle he had been wise enough to keep his greasy hands on Jana's holster, as it was the first thing she reached for.
The pig kept Jana's dominant arm completely in a lock, blocking any lethal retaliation she would be foolish enough to attempt.
Jana barely even writhed in the result struggle before the great beast slammed her face into the Fortunan finewood. The brute twisted her hair to the side and pressed a hand on the back of her head.
"One squeeze," he warned, "One squeeze is all it would take to pop your head all over the table."
He wrapped himself around her shoulder, lurching himself face-to-face with her. Jana didn't blink as he emitted a disgusting wheezing laugh that bellowed through the establishment.
Despite having her completely locked in, he was shocked to be greeted with the ice-cold, self-satisfied eyes of a killer. Forest green globes, like her fathers had been, but without any of his palpable warmth. A slight smirk hung onto her snout, seemingly assured in victory.
Jakub didn't like that. He didn't like that at all.
"I think you're forgetting your size, girl," the bovine puffed, five fingers squeezing her head further into the Fortunan oak.
"I think," Jana grunted back. with an amused sneer.
"I think you're forgetting your gun, Jakub."
The shock of still-freezing metal poking below his ribs loosened his grip. Jakub's eyes widened in shock at the sound of his name; his real name.
Jana pulled the trigger on Jakub's pistol, expertly pickpocketed from its home on his belt early during the scuffle, and fired a single shot upward through the portly pig's midsection. She had it surreptitiously pointed at him for at least the past five seconds; a gymnastic feat of pickpocket misdirection she was rather proud of.
He leapt backward, gasping for air, but all he got was fire in his lungs. Plasma. Of course he carried Plasma! Two steps later and he was on the floor writhing in agony as his abdominal and thoracic cavities cooked. The smell was nauseating and the suffering was unpleasant to watch; but at least the wound was clean externally. He crumpled to the ground, bringing a barstool and another patron down to the floor with him.
Well almost.
A noxious smoke poured out of his mouth, adding to the scent slurry of burnt flesh and ozone to those already present.
He motioned something at Jana with a raised arm and an open palm. An animalistically vain request for mercy. Jana lightly kicked his arm aside as he died.
There was a lot less screaming and commotion among the patrons than a casual onlooker would expect. The sad fact was that men being melted in spacer bars this far out the colonial rim wasn't exactly uncommon, nor entirely discouraged.
It was mostly the smell that encouraged the few less-hardened patrons to vacate. Some filed out the door in an orderly manner, while others remained seated. No one took a sip or bite of anything on their table. Jana knew the kitchen would lose its business tonight.
She applied the safety on her new weapon and jammed it into her flightjacket's inner pocket, noting mentally to destroy such an abominable piece when she returned to the Javelina.
While the swaying beats and keyboard solos of three decades earlier attempted to seduce the room through the PA, the patrons and bar staff waited in silence for clarity on the situation. In all likelihood, they were waiting to find out if Jana was a psychotic or a federale.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Jana said to the bartender. Allowing the stability in her statement to answer the question for those assembled.
"Lady, you just killed a man!" The bartender accused loudly.
"Oh, that. Yeah," Jana replied, sounding more than a little bored with having to do this song-and-dance every week.
She slid a PDA with a bounty card on the bar top. Most of the remaining onlookers resumed quiet conversation or got up politely to leave at this point.
"Y-You're a b-bounty hunter?" The barkeep asked, backing up in fear. It was a stupid question.
"K-K-Keep it down," She seethed, deliberately mocking his stutter. She didn't raise her voice or break eye contact, "Read it!"
He obliged. The card read:
[Name: Jakub Simms.]
[Known aliases: Jonna Sims, Kurt Prosper.]
[Crimes:
(1) Double murder in the first degree.
(2) Felony possession of illegal plasma producing devices.
(3) Trafficking in Narcotics
(4) Trafficking in Persons
(5) Trafficking in Other.]
He looked over at the corpse's face, making sure it was the man on the card; the man he'd served well these last few months. The familiar corpse's eyes held a particularly ruby red complexion as they studied the ceiling in perpetual eternity. 'Kurt', as the barkeep had known him, was now emitting steam before his own eyes. very much deceased.
Reward for capture: a million hard. Dead: a softer six-hundred fifty-thousand. He lowered the tablet just in time to witness Jana pull an oversized nitrile glove onto her right hand.
Jana crouched and rifled through the dead man's pockets rather nonchalantly. She turned her head in a vain attempt to avoid the acrid scent. After a few moments, she found a vinyl wallet buried in his back trouser pocket. She flipped through it for a few moments, taking a couple of forged identity chits as well as a few fuel rewards cards of varied utility. There were credits to sweeten the pot too.
She stood back up, and slid the bartender four hundred credits. Her tab was only about fifty credits at the moment.
"Drinks are on him," she said. "The rest; for the smell."
Like her still-smouldering victim, Jana's words were more a threat than a statement.
The bartender lifted his head for a moment to nod in understanding, swiping the credits chits off the table and into his pockets.
The rat continued to swipe through the bounty card. No doubt fascinated with the corpse's past crimes. Seizing the opportunity, Jana reached across to the bar back and picked up Jakub's unspoiled ale, freshly unserved. She hadn't tried this variety yet.
The lynx in the corner issued an approving glance. Jana noticed.
"Finders fee," Jana said with a quick wink, raising her drink in celebration to the Lynx. She couldn't tell, but the Lynx blushed under her fur a little.
"W-What time wIll you b-back?" The rat asked, his question killing her buzz a little bit. "T-tomorrow," He clarified.
"Why does it matter?" Jana asked coldly, eyeing her glass; now half-full. "Anyone else I should know about?"
There was a visible recoil in the rat when she asked. She felt it. She studied his body language intently to determine the cause of his fear and in the end she found the justification she was looking for.
Looks like I'll be extending my stay. She thought, taking another sip of red ale she'd been 'gifted.' There'll be more than one catch here this week I bet.
"Like I was saying. I'll be back tomorrow," she said after a few more sips. "You can keep that placard up too. I rather like that seat."
"What about the body?" The bartender asked incredulously, "You can't just leave him here."
Another stupid question. She thought. This idiot is testing me.
"I won't be, obviously," she coughed-up, mouth still half-full of ale. She finished the rest with one healthy gulp. No sense letting it go to waste.
Without saying a word to the bartender, she turned around, searching for an assistant. It only took her a second to pick out two prospective 'interns'.
"You, and you," she barked at two of the more terrified onlookers. A shorter zebra and a taller meerkat. They looked a little down on their luck, and it was clear they didn't have the stomach for violence. And they looked like good followers.
"Want to make a quick three hundred each?" She asked, eyebrows raised
"Sure?" The Zebra responded unsurely, looking at his accomplice. She wasn't sure if he agreed out of fear or opportunity. At the end of the day no one's hands in this bar were clean, and three-hundred credits was three-hundred credits.
She tossed three two-hundred credit chits to the men. The meerkat caught one easily, but the zebra nearly dove to the floor for the other two.
"Drag this piece of shit out to the streets and call the blues." Jana instructed.
The meerkat was confused, and he gestured towards his striped equine friend to dig for more. Jana, having endured enough of the dim-witted idiots on this backwater, decided to head his questions off at the pass.
"Him," she pointed at the body. "Outside," she pointed at the door. "Call the feds. Any of them. Give them my card. Stay with the body," She clarified with maximal condescension.
From her jacket, she produced a physical aluminum card and handed it to the zebra.
"They'll know how to reach me."
She walked towards the door. Turning around only to see one last smile from her new Lynx friend on the opposite end of the bar. She winked again. I'm betting I'll see her again tomorrow.
The Zebra glanced at the card.
Jana M. McCloud. It read, sans serif font.
"One more thing, gentlemen," the vulpes said icily. She halted at the door, putting on her form-knitted hat to mitigate the imminent cold.
"Don't even think about trying to collect for yourselves."
The zebra had no such ambition to begin with, and the meerkat suddenly lost it. Without a license it was fruitless anyway.
Message delivered, she disappeared through the bulkhead.
The vixen emerged from the establishment greeted by the satisfaction of another job well done. Quite literally this time. The planetoid's persistently dim purple haze from its marble-like brown dwarf sun illuminated her journey down main avenue.
She should have stayed with the body, but each footfall suggested to her that the drinks she had may have been a bit stronger than she thought. The two-hour walk would sober her up.
Kew Colony City
KCC Starport
Docking Bay 2
Mid-Morning
The octagonal docking bay in KCC Starport was climate controlled. Mostly to avoid component freeze as winters could get as cold as Fichina here. This tended to scare away customers. As such, it was always too hot for thicker furred-lylations, usually hovering around twenty-one degrees. A fact Jana forgot as she started to huff and puff her way up the gangway to her personal ship, Javelina.
Pausing for a moment, Jana took off her hat and unzipped her jacket. She struggled with one of her ears, which got caught on the opening of one of the hats. After some involuntary ear wiggling she stuffed the hat in her jacket's outer pocket. She admired the graceful visage of her vessel from the distance.
She was still a looker. An ebony-coloured wedge shape, longer than it was wide, suspended by its tripod landing gear. All of its hull fascia curved; not a single right angle on it. About twenty-one meters long with a ten meter delta-shaped wingspan. The entire keel had a very graceful downward arc, with the bottom of the wingtips and nose cone swept to a lower point than the central hull. There were two docking tubes about midship and an aft ventral gangplank for ingress and egress. Rounding out the package were two azure coloured, polygonal pylons jutting out from the port and starboard wing roots; unmistakably space-dynamic's famous g-diffusers.
As she regained her stride, the gangplank lowered. She saw movement in the cockpit. She walked towards her home away from home, visually inspecting the fuel and water hookups as she passed. She yanked on the aft water connection; KCC techs had been known to rush even the most basic jobs. And I'll be damned if I don't get a hot shower after tonight.
The Javelina was a corvette modified for apprehension and interdiction; or whatever the feds were calling it this month. Meaning the stout vessel was modified for speed, electronic warfare and 'special cargo' transportation. She was a rare bird, only one of twelve commissioned by Slippy Toad himself.
Jana walked up the gangplank, desperate for a glass of water while the hookups were still connected. She never liked being planetborne on Kew for long, the air was too dry.
While now an older Space Dynamics design, she was still fairly cutting edge where it counted. You could find ships with better amenities in this keel size class; but none with the same level of maneuverability, defensive capability or speed at non-slip. It was meant to be crewed by three, but with the right pilot you could get away with two.
And it just so happened Jana had the best.
"Police freqs going nuts, kid," Falco Lombardi said, emerging from the cockpit bulkhead ten meters her front. "Something about a barbecue down on deep main?"
Jana hung her jacket and hat on a rack on the port hallway wall as the gangplank raised.
"What can I say? When you're hungry, you're hungry," Jana mused.
The slightly above middle-aged avian was like a second father to her. Even at fifty-eight he could still fly circles around the best. In fact, it actually seemed like he got a little better since the final push against the pirates twenty-four years back.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the brushed aluminum wall paneling. Avians had a slightly lower body temperature, so he was wearing a red flight vest and a long sleeve cotton sweater.
"So?" He asked, clearly amused but expecting a bit more of an explanation.
Jana was emptying her pockets of its contents. She felt the grip on Jakub's gun, and decided to let it do the explaining. She took it out of the pocket, flipped it vertically grip-to-barrel.
"Hold this for me, will you?"
The pistol answered most of Falco's questions immediately. He squirmed when he took hold of it. I get it, plasma pistols are nasty little things. They melt you from the inside out. Melts right through aluminum windscreens too. He performed a quick charge-check before brushing his open jacket aside and stuffing it into his waistband in a graceful motion.
Jana pressed the gangplank release on the wall, raising the plank and sealing the deck.
"Wow, wait a second! Aren't you forgetting something?" He asked, as she walked towards the cockpit.
She twisted her head around and looked at him like he had two beaks. Senior had been around the block with me for a few times already. He should be used to how I do business now.
"The stiff?" He clarified, eyes wide and arms outstretched. He walked through the bulkhead after her. "Jana, the dead guy. Your one job. Our funding for the month?"
"Oh yeah," She feigned dimness, "Don't worry the feds probably picked him up twenty minutes ago."
"'Probably?' The blues?" He questioned, taking up residence by the lead pilot's seat on the starboard windscreen.
"Of course. Who else?"
Jana sat in the captain's seat, centrally located just behind the pilot and copilot's seat. The fox then loosened her boot straps a bit. Relief after a 'hard' day on the job
"You just casually left six-hundred and fifty goddamn thousand credits on a street corner."
"And got piss-drunk doing it, yes." She said, picking some lint off her undershirt.
"And you're not the least bit concerned that-"
A pleasant, if loud, trio of bongs resounded around the cockpit. An incoming call from an encrypted government source labeled 'high priority' flashed across every instrument panel in a holographic display. The call was all the justification Jana needed to prove her point.
She brought her arm high above her head and pointed sharply with her finger towards the windscreen. The old avian simply shook his head and shrugged it off.
A canine, a black-furred schnauzer mix, in civilian attire appeared on screen. He was wearing a Cornerian Defense Force pin on his navy blue suit.
He looks a bit more like a politician than an Admiral these days, Jana thought. But war is all politics isn't it?
"Jana; Admiral Leinchs." He began, in typical military courtesy and standards. "Heard you bagged Jakub Simms?" He didn't bother blurring out his office for Jana, she used to work for him.
"My! Word travels fast," Jana gloated, glaring at her avian accomplice for doubting her decisions. Falco, still arms crossed, was less than enthused.
"Good evening, Daryn," she said, always remembering to use his first name as a cudgel. "Jakub and I had a little heart-to-heart, yes."
"I assume there was no problem with delivery?"
Admiral Daryn Leinchs was the director of the Cornerian Internal Security Service, or ISS. Previously head of the CDF's interceptor task force, Leinch's new role with the ISS was the same job in all but name. Except now he could be given a pay raise rather than promoted out of the position. Jana remembered why she quit six years ago.
The ISS was an umbrella organization. Half law enforcement, half military. It Investigated everything local police couldn't handle from bank robberies all the way up to militia-busting. They made a name for themselves during the pirate-hunting period about twenty years ago.
The admiral was clearly happy to see his old protégé again. His administrative assistant, a comically large elephant seated in the background also seemed a bit chipper. It was rare that Jana and the Admiral talked in person, but their previous working relationship kept them in touch on a monthly basis or so.
"Dead though," he countered trying to regain the initiative, "Too bad, you missed out on an easy three-fifty."
"He didn't give me much choice in the matter, unfortunately," Jana almost-honestly recounted.
The full truth was that it was a chance encounter. She hadn't really expected to run into him in that bar. She hadn't thought much about Simms at all; she had a long list of animals she was hunting.
"I don't know, sounds like someone's getting sloppy to me," Leinchs continued to tease, looking over his shoulder to his assistant. "Having the locals clean up your mess, too. That's just lazy."
"It's called a sub-contract, sir." Leinchs was starting to get under her skin.
"Evidently. Some local kids called the local blues with your card and ID number." The admiral's statement caused Falco to raise an eyebrow.
"No shit, I have a report saying, and I quote," the admiral began again, "two claimants repeatedly denied personal claims and insisted repeatedly to inform constable Jana McCloud that they held up their end of the bargain." He looked like he was about to crack up. "I have no idea what that means but it gave me and Arjun a chuckle." Arjun, the elephant, was his aide-de-camp specializing in the bounty programs; coincidentally Jana's last gig in the force.
"She has that effect on people, Admiral. You know that," Falco chimed in.
"Good to see you too, Lombardi. Staying on the right side of the law I hope?" Leinchs asked semi-seriously. He knew the answer to that question was more complicated than he preferred.
The good admiral had always been a little skeptical of Falco's methods, but not of his considerable service to Lylat. The bird had provided over thirty-years of other-than-honorable duties resulting in unquestionably honorable outcomes. He was a cross-generational hero. The most lauded veteran of the Lylat Wars, the Aparoid invasion, the Anglar Blitz and the Pirate Insurrections. There wasn't a more fabled pilot still flying. It wouldn't be unkempt to suggest that the admiral (and the ISS) gave Falco a wide berth when it came to his more unofficial conduct; they'd be powerless in the court of public opinion.
"Why of course admiral, I pay my taxes and go to church like a good boy. If that's what you want to hear." The bird replied. It was Falco's turn for teasing it seemed.
"I'll take your word for it, Lombardi," the general replied, nonplussed with how to effectively push back on him. The old bird was famous for his temper.
Falco and Jana could see Arjun shaking his head in the background. The admiral took a moment to consider his next words.
"Hey Jana, listen-"
"-Here it comes," Jana interjected, head back and eyes rolled, "These check-ins are rarely all congratulatory."
The other shoe was about to drop, and Jana preferred not to let it happen.
"Listen, Daryn. We've had this chat before. Unless the government rate goes up, and I mean way up. We can't afford to be your private aggressor squadron anymore," Jana chastised. "It just doesn't pay enough to keep Star Fox going, and frankly, I can't justify keeping a full squadron of Arwings maintained on a training contract."
Falco looked disappointed, he rather liked shooting down cadets even if it was only in training exercises.
"You'll be pleased then, Jana. It's real tasking this time. Outer colony stuff. No red-team exercises, not even surveillance."
Both the bird and the fox nearly fell out of their seats before looking at each other with raised eyebrows. We need the money, now more than ever.
"Go on," Falco said.
"I really wish I could, but it's sensitive stuff."
"This is a secure channel, is it not?" Jana asked.
"Not secure enough."
"Listen. I know you like to do things remotely, you spend a lot of time through the gates."
"I'm already there," she replied flatly.
"I think we should have this chat in person."
Falco looked to have picked up an additional meaning to his statement. Something he didn't like. Jana wasn't as convinced.
"I don't know Admiral, Corneria's just such a long way away for me at the moment, " she cajolled. "Especially since we don't even know if we'll be taking the job. Plus the rest of the team is off on hiatus, we'd have to start payroll and we need to conserve fuel as of late."
"Mercenary work, In this economy?" Falco chided.
"Not even a hint, eh?"
Falco glanced over. He must have seen that Jana was subtly inputting warp clearance to the Corneria gate while pretending to listen intently. Time was money after all.
"You trying to con me out of my lunch money, McCloud? For fuck's sake."
"No Daryn, just concerned about going wheels ups for a job we may end up passing on." Jana argued.
"Time is money, afterall," Falco finished, smirking at the vixen. The duo had always been an effective negotiating team. "Yeah, Daryn, I'm sure there are other teams who can mobilize quicker and produce similar results."
Jana was impressed, he'd gone straight for the jugular with that one. Nice job Falco. He knows full well there aren't.
"For the Gods sake, Jana."
He sighed, It looked like out of frustration for opening himself up to the possibility of negotiating. The way Jana saw it, he knew who he was dealing with. If he was looking for a cheap solution he would have stayed internal. If he wanted a fast solution he would have gone with another merc group.
"Fine, Arjun, authorize gate fees and fuel for the Javelina and theCondottiereto the bounty payout," he conceded.
Nice. Quick one-hundred fifty thousand right there.
"There, happy?"
"Almost. Can we secure some funds for an initial rearm for eight Arwings as well."
"I'm not talking about a refit here, which I know you've done for merc groups in the past. Just an initial slush fund for maintenance, that type of stuff."
The Admiral's face didn't budge. His poker face was pretty good, but Jana recognized the slight twitch in his ear. Arjun looked like he was about to throw a fit.
"I promise to think about it, and that's it," he responded evenly.
Jana didn't want to push the issue more. She was just glad to have raised the issue with him; maybe he would actually think about it
"When can we expect you both?"
"How's 20:00 Cornerian work for you?" Jana offered.
He sighed.
"I will make that work, Jana."
He accepted after hours. Must be important after all. She thought.
"Sounds good, Daryn. Beer's on me this time," she said. "Any preference?"
"A sour, please. You know which one," the aging dog requested. It was his turn to negotiate.
Arjun stood from his desk, his face implicating himself as the bearer of bad news. "Sir, you have a call waiting, priority one."
The Admiral closed his eyes and inhaled. He then muttered some unkind words.
"Office politics. I'll see you both later."
"I'll look forward to it," Jana said.
"See ya' Admiral," Falco added.
The line disconnected.
Jana could see her avian friend was excited. The way his feet rocked back and forth. He wanted back in on the action of mercenary work; not a glorified bus driver.
"Exciting stuff coming our way, Falco."
"It's probably something small," he said, trying to mask his excitement. "Nothing like the Aparoids or Lylat Wars."
"Careful what you wish for, old man."
"The team was in a lot better shape then, that's for sure. Your dad, of course, being an absolute buzzkill. Drills and simulator time every hour of every day," he laughed. "Surviving on nothing but ramen and frozen vegetables for months at a time. You know they don't write about that aspect in the history books."
"You would have fit right in, though."
It was a warm sentiment. Falco and Katt always treated her as family, something Jana had been grateful for since she was a kit.
With Falco on deck, Jana dropped her guard and remembered how weary she was. A week of five-hour power naps and constant casual drinking was not kind on anyone. Her feet hurt, she was a little buzzed and she needed a long shower while the Javelina's tank was still full.
"How quick can we be dockside on Corneria? I need to take care of something before we can get a brief."
"The maps usually say ten hours, but… I can make two hours to the gate, six to Corneria using some, eh, nonstandard routes."
"Do it," Jana approved.
"You should lie down a little bit. Eat something. Get ahead of that hangover," Falco ragged.
"What hangover?"
Jana lifted herself out of the chair and made her way aft to get some rest.