"Just Business" Log by Shane 5-27-12

[Shane 0]

"Mr. Gilmo is waiting inside." Gurk the Klingon motioned towards the end of the corridor with his disruptor. A red and grey, rusted doorway stood several meters down the dimly lit, dripping hallway. Shane and Byblos both took a step before Gurk held up his weapon to the latter. "Just Tayjer," he snarled, "the Naussy stays with me."

 

The pair looked and shrugged. Shane headed for the door in the hallway as his boots clanged against the metal floor, speaking over his shoulder to his partner, "Don't kill him yet Bybs." Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the next room as the rusty door slid away out of his way.

 

 

The room the big cyborg was a large office that was sparsely decorated with filled book-shelve and a small bar lining one side. Opposite of that, the wall had been replaced with transpari-steel that gave a view into the company’s private yard where a several small ships where being built. Gilmo sat behind his average sized metal desk at the other end of Shane, reading absently over a file with his feet propped up. The balding, pudgy man looked up at the clanging sound of Shane’s boots on the floor and lowered his boots down to the floor, tossing the file aside. “Have a seat Tayjer,” he said as he stood and moved to the bar, “what do you want to drink?”

 

“Nothing,” Shane replied in his low growl of a voice as he sat heavily in one of the two metal chairs in front of the desk, “and the name is Shane.”

Gilmo grinned slightly as he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and leaned against the bar, regarding Shane. “Only Shane? I suppose you wouldn’t have told this crew of your past quite yet. Not after what happened when your last captain found out who you are…or where anyway. That’s why I wanted to speak in private with you for a moment, between old friends.”

 

“Acquaintances, nothing more.” Shane’s cold glare fixed on Gilmo, disdain written on his face. “I won’t forget how you cut out on us.”

 

“The Fleet was dying Shane, everyone knew that. I’m all for fighting for an ideal, but only if there’s hope. And from what I heard, it wasn’t a moment too soon.”

 

Shane bristled visibly at Gilmo’s last words, his expression growing colder. “Your ship might have made a difference. Instead you went to your scum of boss, running with your tail between your legs.”

 

“Spare me Tayjer,” Gilmo said dismissively with a wave of his free hand as he walked back to his seat, “we’ve argued this before. I had a family to feed and a crew on the verge of mutiny. The Bossman may be what some narrow-minded fools may consider corrupt, but he pays for loyalty and results. I’ve given both. If you hadn’t been consumed by revenge, you’d be at my level of achievement or better. But look at you. A shell of a man, if you could be called that and working as a petty merc. What’s next, raiding?”

Shane stood suddenly, his real fist clenched white knuckled, the claw clanging shut and his face reddened with a rage. But he didn’t move towards Gilmo because in the recesses of his bitter mind, he knew the smaller man was right. Instead he turned and walked to the giant window, staring out as he buried his anger with a long sigh. Gilmo moved hand back under the desk where it had slipped to a disruptor and took a sigh as well, watching the cyborg with a frown. The two sat in silence for moment before Shane spoke.

 

“I’m here for information, Gilmo. Nothing more.”

 

Gilmo thought for several long moments before replying, “What have you got to offer?”