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Jan. 27th, 2007 10:56 pmKeever ignored the Mandalorians as they fumed and stomped their feet. He’d guessed they wouldn’t be satisfied with just leaving the Jedi to die in the fire. He wasn’t satisfied with it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t just cut his throat.
He leant over the railings in the central entertainment area of the outpost, pulling his communicator from his coat.
“Hey - Trandoshan-With-The-Droid, Swordy-Twi’lek-Girl, Really-Twitchy-Rodian,” He’d never bothered to learn the mercenaries’ names. “Go track down Lyman-Kel Tae - Tall guy, lots of dark hair, faintly resembles a nerf, you can’t miss him - and kill him. The more creative way you can do it, the better.”
The communicator buzzed slightly, giving off only thick static in response.
”Hey, can you hear me?” He scowled. “Must be the weather or something, messing up the signal - The weather has nothing to do with it, Mister Keever.”
Keever slapped a hand over his mouth, spinning around to look at the Mandalorians. It was difficult to tell through their masks, but Keever knew they were staring at him.
“Get out of here. Go blow something up or whatever it is you do in your free time,” He snarled, pulling his hand away. “Go on!”
The Mandalorians shrugged, slinging their guns over their shoulders and wandering away.
Keever found the corners of his mouth being pulled into a smile. No attempt to scowl would get rid of it.
”You should stay on their good sides,” He found himself murmuring amusedly. ”After all, the only reason you haven’t been shot yet is because you’re paying them, and they want to honour their contract.”
The invisible grip on Keever’s face loosened, allowing him to gape, breathe deeply and lean on the wall for support.
”I’m going insane,” He whispered. ”I’ve cracked. I’m going - Not insane, Mister Keever. You have my deepest apologies if I’ve frightened you - I know how terribly rude it is to do these things, but I am rather hoping you’ll forgive me for this little discourtesy? I have a rather important task.”
Keever just gibbered meekly. Once more, his mouth opened of his own accord, enunciating someone else’s words clearly.
”Calm down. This is a chance you will only get once. The chance to rise above your status as a faceless Czerka worker, a bounty hunter, an Exchange thug, whatever you are or have been. You burn barely like a candle in the Force, but that’s still brighter than an ember.
“Your Plan A, some ridiculous plan to get money from some rushed Czerka project? Your Plan B, an even worse plan to collect the bounty on Atton? Both are irrelevant now. I am giving you a choice - Listen. Stretch your mind out to that fire on that ship. Can you sense Atton?”
Control of his mouth abruptly returned to Keever as his mind drifted, guided to the ship by a presence, floating all around him.
“... No,” He muttered. “Does that mean he’s dead?”
The presence prised open Keever’s lips to let out a small laugh.
”Perhaps. That’s the most logical explanation, isn’t it? Or maybe he’s just gone. Away from Kazic, out of your senses.
“Do you wish to hear my offer? You’ll have to forgive me, it’s not a particularly accomodating one. If you agree to ally yourself with me, I will lend you my mind and my power. You’ll get all the money you need, and you’ll be something more than a bounty hunter. Or, you can refuse, and I will burn away your mind and leave you as nothing but a drone.
“Please take as long as you need, just so long as you answer in the next thirty seconds.”
-------
Five days later.
When Atton left, the every box in the room had been burning. There were explosions. Collapsing higher tiers. And now, he noted as he pulled himself out through the door in the floor, there wasn’t. The walls were scorched, the boxes were gone, and the tiers were very collapsed, but the fire had stopped.
Atton didn’t know whether to be grateful for that, or worried that the only reason he could think of for it was that time had passed here when he was in the bar.
A Czerka technician wandered past, whistling to himself and somehow managing not to notice Atton. Atton wrapped an arm around his neck, scowling.
“I need your clothes to get out of here, alright? But, see, if you tell me what date and time it is, I’ll just knock you out instead of killin’ you. Y’can’t get fairer than that.”
-------
Atton’s face broke into a grin as the door hissed open, revealing a sleepy Lyman, rubbing his eyes and leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey, Lyman. You alive?”
Lyman scowled at him.
”Where the kriff have you been?” Before Atton could reply, Lyman was dragging him into the room. “What happened to you?”
“Erm, right,” It occured to Atton, on some level, that he should’ve thought of a few lies. “Well, I was on the Czerka ship, and then I got out, and then I took a ship and left for Dantooine for a while. Get a break from all the snow, y’know?”
Lyman stared at him.
“I’m not sure if you’re an idiot or a bastard - figuratively, not just literally - or both. Probably both,” He prodded at one of the more vivid bruises. “And what about these?”
“Oh, them. Run-in with Keever,” No need to lie about that. “I didn’t think you’d be this angry.”
“I would’ve liked it if you’d told me, that’s all,” Lyman snapped. “We thought you’d died or something.”
“Right. I’ll make sure to tell you next time - Speaking of which, y’didn’t have any similar run-ins with Keever, did you? Or his mercenaries?”
Lyman gave him an odd look.
“... No,” He paused thoughtfully. “I’d be pretty worried if we did. Keever’s dead. Head bashed in by one of his Shocktroopers.”
Atton didn’t even bother hiding his grin.
“You’re kiddin’, right?”
-------
”He’s returned, then. Not as dead as you suspected, evidently.”
He got no response.
”Leave them, for now. There is no shortage of time, and we have other business to attend to in the mean time.”
He leant over the railings in the central entertainment area of the outpost, pulling his communicator from his coat.
“Hey - Trandoshan-With-The-Droid, Swordy-Twi’lek-Girl, Really-Twitchy-Rodian,” He’d never bothered to learn the mercenaries’ names. “Go track down Lyman-Kel Tae - Tall guy, lots of dark hair, faintly resembles a nerf, you can’t miss him - and kill him. The more creative way you can do it, the better.”
The communicator buzzed slightly, giving off only thick static in response.
”Hey, can you hear me?” He scowled. “Must be the weather or something, messing up the signal - The weather has nothing to do with it, Mister Keever.”
Keever slapped a hand over his mouth, spinning around to look at the Mandalorians. It was difficult to tell through their masks, but Keever knew they were staring at him.
“Get out of here. Go blow something up or whatever it is you do in your free time,” He snarled, pulling his hand away. “Go on!”
The Mandalorians shrugged, slinging their guns over their shoulders and wandering away.
Keever found the corners of his mouth being pulled into a smile. No attempt to scowl would get rid of it.
”You should stay on their good sides,” He found himself murmuring amusedly. ”After all, the only reason you haven’t been shot yet is because you’re paying them, and they want to honour their contract.”
The invisible grip on Keever’s face loosened, allowing him to gape, breathe deeply and lean on the wall for support.
”I’m going insane,” He whispered. ”I’ve cracked. I’m going - Not insane, Mister Keever. You have my deepest apologies if I’ve frightened you - I know how terribly rude it is to do these things, but I am rather hoping you’ll forgive me for this little discourtesy? I have a rather important task.”
Keever just gibbered meekly. Once more, his mouth opened of his own accord, enunciating someone else’s words clearly.
”Calm down. This is a chance you will only get once. The chance to rise above your status as a faceless Czerka worker, a bounty hunter, an Exchange thug, whatever you are or have been. You burn barely like a candle in the Force, but that’s still brighter than an ember.
“Your Plan A, some ridiculous plan to get money from some rushed Czerka project? Your Plan B, an even worse plan to collect the bounty on Atton? Both are irrelevant now. I am giving you a choice - Listen. Stretch your mind out to that fire on that ship. Can you sense Atton?”
Control of his mouth abruptly returned to Keever as his mind drifted, guided to the ship by a presence, floating all around him.
“... No,” He muttered. “Does that mean he’s dead?”
The presence prised open Keever’s lips to let out a small laugh.
”Perhaps. That’s the most logical explanation, isn’t it? Or maybe he’s just gone. Away from Kazic, out of your senses.
“Do you wish to hear my offer? You’ll have to forgive me, it’s not a particularly accomodating one. If you agree to ally yourself with me, I will lend you my mind and my power. You’ll get all the money you need, and you’ll be something more than a bounty hunter. Or, you can refuse, and I will burn away your mind and leave you as nothing but a drone.
“Please take as long as you need, just so long as you answer in the next thirty seconds.”
-------
Five days later.
When Atton left, the every box in the room had been burning. There were explosions. Collapsing higher tiers. And now, he noted as he pulled himself out through the door in the floor, there wasn’t. The walls were scorched, the boxes were gone, and the tiers were very collapsed, but the fire had stopped.
Atton didn’t know whether to be grateful for that, or worried that the only reason he could think of for it was that time had passed here when he was in the bar.
A Czerka technician wandered past, whistling to himself and somehow managing not to notice Atton. Atton wrapped an arm around his neck, scowling.
“I need your clothes to get out of here, alright? But, see, if you tell me what date and time it is, I’ll just knock you out instead of killin’ you. Y’can’t get fairer than that.”
-------
Atton’s face broke into a grin as the door hissed open, revealing a sleepy Lyman, rubbing his eyes and leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey, Lyman. You alive?”
Lyman scowled at him.
”Where the kriff have you been?” Before Atton could reply, Lyman was dragging him into the room. “What happened to you?”
“Erm, right,” It occured to Atton, on some level, that he should’ve thought of a few lies. “Well, I was on the Czerka ship, and then I got out, and then I took a ship and left for Dantooine for a while. Get a break from all the snow, y’know?”
Lyman stared at him.
“I’m not sure if you’re an idiot or a bastard - figuratively, not just literally - or both. Probably both,” He prodded at one of the more vivid bruises. “And what about these?”
“Oh, them. Run-in with Keever,” No need to lie about that. “I didn’t think you’d be this angry.”
“I would’ve liked it if you’d told me, that’s all,” Lyman snapped. “We thought you’d died or something.”
“Right. I’ll make sure to tell you next time - Speaking of which, y’didn’t have any similar run-ins with Keever, did you? Or his mercenaries?”
Lyman gave him an odd look.
“... No,” He paused thoughtfully. “I’d be pretty worried if we did. Keever’s dead. Head bashed in by one of his Shocktroopers.”
Atton didn’t even bother hiding his grin.
“You’re kiddin’, right?”
-------
”He’s returned, then. Not as dead as you suspected, evidently.”
He got no response.
”Leave them, for now. There is no shortage of time, and we have other business to attend to in the mean time.”
