Impasse (by Joe & Ethan)

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

Joe looked across the mess hall table at Ethan Neufeld, now stripped of any Vulcan prosthetics and, Joe hoped, false pretense. The others in the mess hall watched as well, and Joe had no intention of sending them away. Everyone at the table had been included on the team that was sent to the tunnels underneath Zoalus IV to rescue Neufeld. They'd risked their lives for him and, though Joe would be the one to press the issue, they were the ones who had a right to know. Joe had not put himself in the path of mad defense robots and infectious (possibly sentient) tar; he had simply been the target of Neufeld's deceptions and his use of Qob's crew to get what he wanted. To him, Neufeld's actions were merely insulting and his identity presented dangers to Qob that were still undetermined. So he would make a show of being insulted and protective of his ship while extracting the explanation that his crew deserved.

 

He hoped that his initial instincts were correct -- that he had put his crew in harm's way for good reasons. His instincts about people had been failing him more often than not recently.

 

"Why don't we start with the black goo," Joe said. "We've got a vial of it sitting in the science lab, and everyone's been a little worried about it spreading. Tell me everything you know about it."

 

“I already told you everything I know,” Ethan replied honestly; “but if it wasn’t clear before: The ‘goo’ is a colony of microorganisms; some kind of parasitic creatures capable of possessing humanoid hosts. They’re colloquially referred to as ‘Motoroils’.” Clasping his hands over the tabletop, he minimally gestured as he spoke.

 

“They assert that instigating hostilities, anarchy among humanoid species is their entire reason for being. They favor domestic terrorism, but they’ve also claimed responsibility for plagues on several backwater colonies that have cost countless lives.” He glanced at his clasped hands, adding: “I was lucky;” and then paused for a moment before lifting his gaze.

 

“We’ve tried negotiating without success; those they can’t control, they kill. They’ve either aligned themselves with the Rainmakers or they’re behind the radical shift in that group’s methods. They act as one entity in the same room or light-years apart, but there's no evidence that they're telepathic. There are speculations that their raison d’etre is genetically inherited, but no one knows their origin or how to stop them.”

 

Continuing, Ethan’s gestures became more defined, directed largely toward Joe. “I infiltrated a cell in the Rainmakers and went to a lot of trouble to get this far. Right now, my intention, my job is to take that vial,” he said pointing vaguely; “to a lab that’s prepared to study these things in detail within a controlled environment, and explore the possibility of a lifesaving anti-serum. But until I get that vial to its destination, that’s all this is: speculation and good intentions.

 

“The longer you keep me here, the higher the body count.”

 

"Assuming all of this is true,” Joe questioned, “why all the secrecy? Why disappear as a Vulcan on Xorax colony? I assume it has something to do with the wanted posters on Tranquility, the ones with your face on them?"

 

“You know as well as I do,” Ethan replied coolly, alluding to earlier comments regarding a certain ‘Duke’. “You’re going to make some friends and some enemies in this line of work.

 

“I’ve made a few enemies on this contract,” he admitted. “I was on Xorax because my leads were pointing toward Zoalus. But I didn’t have the resources to get there and my face was known, so I posed as a Vulcan academic. The secrecy was necessary to protect my clients, and keep sensitive information and high value targets from falling into the wrong hands. I can’t do my job, if everyone knows who I am and what I’m doing.”

 

"By arrangement with your old bosses on Xorax colony,” Joe said, “I've secured your services. Putting it more bluntly, I bought you -- part of the payment for turning over the prisoners and our Zoalus data. You're on my crew now ... for the time being, while I decide what to do with you.”

 

At this revelation, a faint tap rose from the table where Ethan’s hands settled on the book he’d laid there. Leaning back heavily into his seat, he let his hands fall into his lap from the tabletop as he briefly inclined his head and sighed, evidently displeased with the idea.

 

Joe continued, unabated: “Of course, if there are other people you answer to, I need to know about it. I know Xorax colony didn't hire you to investigate the goo, and you can't be independent. So who hired you?"

 

Ethan stared stonily at the Qob’s Captain. “Donno where to start with that one,” he remarked frankly and considered his position. Shifting in his seat, he licked his lips and settled, answering in a decisive, dispassionate tone.

 

“I’ll keep it simple. You can’t buy my loyalty. I’m not ungrateful, but I didn’t ask to be rescued; you should’ve left me behind.

 

“I don’t answer to anyone. I take on contracts when I want; handle them how I want. No one paid me to come here; I came because it was the right thing to do.

 

“I can’t give you my contacts. I’m a professional and value discretion. I don’t hand out names to the first person that asks. I’m certain you wouldn’t freely give up your crew if you were in my position, and I’d trust you less if you did. So until my contacts are your contacts, you won’t know who my contacts are.

 

"Now, I realize how this looks to you and the last thing you’ll want to do is take me for my word. But you can’t possibly imagine what’s at stake.

 

“I’ve told you about the Motoroils to protect your crew, and banking that you’ll do the right thing,” he concluded, relaxing in his seated position. “Or you're planning to sell it to the first bidder for a paycheck. But if you’re interested in helping me get that vial where it needs to go, then let’s talk business.”

 

Joe shook his head. "I ain't gonna do business blind. Not knowin' who your friends are and who your enemies are. And believe me, I can imagine quite a bit.

 

"I can imagine you're blowin' this whole threat out of proportion. That you were sent here by the Federation to collect this stuff to develop into a bioweapon, that the best thing we could do to save lives is smash that vial right now. Hell, you certainly seem like the Federation type. Or I can imagine that you're the Rainmaker and those zombies we blasted a crater around know you because they've had bad run-ins with you. The Rainmakers I've known seemed more like consummate liars with a scheme for every occasion than the types to let some living sludge take over their bodies. I can imagine all this because you ain't givin' me enough to go on.

 

"Bottom line's this, Ethan. That vial ain't goin' anywhere. Not until I know more about what's at stake here. Who's involved in this and how. I'll warn you right now -- I'll follow up on this by my own means if I need to. I'll tap into my sources around the Hyades cluster, ask about the vial, ask about you. I think you can imagine how messy this can get if I ask one of the wrong people because I don't know who your enemies are and who your friends are."

 

Joe stood up and looked down at Ethan. "We're on our way to Andus station, and it's gonna take a few days. I encourage you to take the time to think things over. If you want to meet me in private to give me some names or at least some idea of who's involved, just call on me. If this threat is as big as you claim, I'm sure you can justify sharing something with me ... and as we're holdin' all the cards in the form of that vial of yours, you've got no choice but to work with us. Like it or not, Ethan, that's how I do business."

Edited February 27, 2012 by Ethan Neufeld

[Pher 0]

After the mess of a meeting, Pher pulled Joe aside for a few words.

 

“Joe? You haven’t much worked with Ethan. He reminds me more than a little of you. Keeps his secrets. Likes to pull the strings himself. Doesn’t like anyone else to see what string he's going to pull next. Seems he’d rather die than let anyone see how fragile his plans are, or, First Energy Being forgive, to contribute to his plans or prevent onrushing disasters. Stubborn about it. I don’t so much mind that he’d rather die than play well with others. That's his privilege, and I'd hate to get in his way again. It’s his willingness to kill us all in the process that’s the problem.

 

“Watching you two posture over the fate of the nebula made me want to head bash the table, or maybe bash your head into his. Don’t know that either of you are capable of learning, but could you try to remember there’s more to this than proving who has the greater weight of junk between their legs?”