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NOTE: Raw, barely edited. I'll rip it apart once it's done, but no sooner. wink
My name is Kala Dair. Human, five and a half feet, hundred forty pounds. I'm an average looking guy who'd never stand out in a crowd, and I like it just like that. You see, I'm a two-bit hacker thief with my eyes on the "big score." You know what I'm talking about. That one job that sets you up forever? Yeah, I almost made it, too... But, as I stand here in line, waiting to get my head removed by a powerful laser, I can't help but think, "Why did I ever listen to that frothing Malek?"
It all started three days ago... I had just arrived on Gala Prime for a bit of business. Word had gotten around that the leading underworld figure had just been offed. This kind of occurrence is a glowing opportunity to someone like me. No doubt the syndicate would be busy infighting, while someone like me could slip in, rustle up a few creds and slip out.
An easy payday, I thought... I couldn't have been more wrong.
Things went smoothly at first. I worked the streets a bit, dipping pockets, rolling drunks. Easy pickings. I find it's best to feel out a new place before you really start working it, and I was doing just that. It didn't take long for me to get into contact with the local authority on crime: The gang whose street I was hustling on.
This usually isn't a problem, except in the case of this particular gang. See, they were Maleks. The dregs of the universe. If you hear about shady weapon deals, illicit goods traffic, slave trading... Chances are there's a Malek behind it. It's like the race is born without scruples, and the culture brings them up to take advantage of it. The only reason the Conglomerate hasn't taken them out yet, is due to the sheer strength of their warriors. Besides, if you knew what I know, you'd realize that the Conglomerate is their biggest customer.
Now, for you to fully appreciate the trouble I was in for wheeling and dealing on their street corner, let me just describe a typical Malek to you. Imagine a man, but give him a grayish skin color, kind of like a zombie, and make him a little taller. No hair whatsoever. Loose, flabby skin; not in a fat kind of way, though they can be, but more like they just have extra skin. The face is almost featureless, lost in those little skin pouches. Still vaguely man-like, though. Two eyes, ears, a nose and mouth. They've only got four teeth, though. Two pairs of nasty incisors at the front of the mouth. Pretty vicious in a bite.
Now, when these suckers get mad, their body temperature rises incredibly fast. Inside the skin pouches, these guys retain water, which helps keep them cool. But, when their temper rises too much, they go into what scientists call "advanced hydro-synthetic tissue engorgement." On the streets we just called it "burning." Anyway, when a Malek gets too mad and goes into burning, the water they retain in the skin rolls gets too hot, which causes their muscles to expand, absorb the water, and near triple in size. This, of course, triples their strength.
Anyway, these gangs of Maleks that roam around tend to ride very close to burning. I don't know if they have some drug that makes it come on quicker, or if they just are that pissed off all the time. Either way, a group of five burning Maleks were chasing me down an alley, and they didn't seem to want to talk about it.
A combination of strict energy weapon ordinances and a thorough off-world customs check is what saved my a** that day. Since the smugglers had a hell of a time getting weapons onto the planet, they cost a frothing fortune. Oh, these Maleks had auto-pistols, to be sure. But if they had had even a single quad-pulse between them, my various dodges and shortcuts would never have been enough.
The alleyway got a little narrow at the end and I was forced to squeeze out between two buildings. Another bit of luck on my part. There's no way a burning Malek could fit through that space, and damned if they could calm down quick enough to catch me.
Of course, that didn't keep me from running long after I'd gotten away.
Later that day, I found myself resting in an all night resonance chamber. This place was high-tech and drowning in beautiful people. The perfect place for me to avoid another Malek encounter.
I wasn't really into the music, though it was kind of interesting. Resonance chambers... It's the newest thing in music, really. Everything else has been done, so now we just try to do it differently. The current... song, I guess, was a classical piece of some sort. The resonance chamber catches the sound and quiets it. It pulses out a sort of sonic vibration that lets you feel the music, rather than hear it. One thing in particular I did like about it, was dancing with a partner. Especially a human partner. And if you somehow manage to get a woman into bed with you while feeling the music... Life doesn't get much better.
Like I said the place was full of beautiful people. You know, the plastic kind. Not a one of the dancers on the floor hadn't had some sort of cosmetic modifications performed on them. It's a pretty egocentric practice, but I can't say I blame some of them. Prosthetic smiles really do have more fun.
As I lay there in my personal cupola, I happen to notice another of us regular folk wander into the place. Now, being as paranoid as I am, it only made sense for me at the time to slip away, unnoticed. But, as I stood up I felt a wave of nausea hit me, and a strange taste hit the back of my throat.
The frothing waitress poisoned me. Feeling a strange sort of calm wash over me I just fell back into the soft comfort of my little niche in the wall. Whatever was going on, someone important wanted me. Who was I to fight...
The wonderful thing about neurotoxins these days is the customizability. You can get pretty exotic, or stick to standard models. The best thing, and the thing I'm most thankful for, is that they can be made to leave no damage behind.
So, when I woke feeling rested, whole, and unharmed I knew that I was about to be in deep kafk. Still, it beat waking up in an alley with brain damage and my creds stolen. The cell I was in seemed to be modeled after the standard prison colony set up. Solid walls with a reflective surface, iris opening door, bed that folds up into the wall, evacuation ports, and a tiny pillow. For comfort.
It's tough to build up a pace in a six-foot long room, but I managed. Thoughts raced through my head... Who the hell would want to capture me? I haven't been here long enough to make waves... Then again, I am rather well known in the sector. I just can't see how I was recognized.
After a little while I heard what sounded like human voices approaching from down an outside hall. I tried to make out the words, but they were speaking some alien trash language I wasn't familiar with.
Lord Shishio · Sat Nov 20, 2004 @ 09:59am · 13 Comments |
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