What's Worth the Price is Worth the Fight

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

She’d been here before, though not under the same circumstances. This time she had a real purpose, a ‘target’ of sorts that made the encounter all the more meaningful beyond the usual game. It was intriguing. She was glad Samus was finally giving her the more challenging assignments. According to Semus, this one was ‘important,’ though he’d not given her any more orders than to ‘find out what you can.’ It was definitely not one of the usual carnal encounters demanded by the station’s less discriminating patrons. But those encounters had gotten her in the door, and that’s what mattered.

 

Evening bag in hand, Stelara adjusted her black gown so its fine silk draped gently over the curves of her body, allowing it to tug enticingly where it counted, to accentuate and plunge, revealing just enough, not too much. She found it best to leave quite a bit to the imagination.

 

Upon entering, she spotted her assignment sitting on the far side of the room. He was a human, trim and muscular, though not overdeveloped. It was the kind of build brought on by the demands of action rather than egotistical body-building, visible fresh scars and yellowing bruises attesting to the former.

 

She guessed him to be just over six feet tall, though his forward lean on the couch made that judgement a bit difficult. His hair was dark, his eyes sharp, though brooding. The brooding struck her as odd but there was cause for brooding these days. Yet, she couldn’t help thinking he didn’t want to be here. So why was he here? Her attention to detail heightened, and she noticed that, though sitting, his balance shifted forward. Definitely a man of action. Possible ex-military? No wonder Samus was interested.

 

A gentle toss moved her soft, raven hair to the side as she approached him. She stopped just short of his personal space and waited for his attention.

 

Ethan’s gaze smoothly transitioned from the spot Pher had vacated just a minute earlier to Stelara. The scrutiny he gave her veiled a persisting calculation, as he straightened and visually swept her figure. It was obvious by his expression that he was making a threat assessment, not an invitation or self-indulging.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed. “I was about to ask you the same question, but since you asked first....” An easy nod in the general direction of the crowd accompanied a look of boredom. “If there’s any fresh air around here, I’d sure like to find it... if I’m not bothering you, that is. But I wouldn’t want to go by myself, know what I mean?”

 

His brow rose a bit and then he permissively inclined his head, wearing a subtly begrudging expression; and standing from the couch, he quietly gestured with an open hand.

 

Dutifully taking the lead, she weaved her way through the crowd to a semi-secluded alcove in the lobby. There, a small table and two chairs stood intimately arranged in the recesses, tall palms and a ficus strategically placed to shield a reclusive couple from prying eyes. She pressed a button on the wall and fresher air circulated the dankness from the area.

 

“I hope you don’t mind me being forward,” she began, moving a chair away from one of the plants that seemed to want to take over the entire alcove. “You don’t seem to be the usual type to come to Andus, and you certainly don’t seem to fit into the crowd you’re with. In fact, you seem as out of place as I am.” She kept her voice smooth yet sincere, allowing a hint of regret to creep in. The evening bag placed on the table, she sat easily on the edge of the chair, waiting for him to help her, as a gentleman would. Again, a test of character, to give her a better angle for the game. He fell into the play easily, guiding her chair in without an apparent thought.

 

“How’s that?” he minimally questioned her observation that he was as out of place as she. Grasping the opposite chair by the backrest, he pulled it away from the table and intentionally angled it to put his back to the wall and view on the lounge. He sat down without tucking in the chair, apparently keeping clearance from the table to leave in a hurry.

 

“Well, the economy being what it is, I find work no matter where it is, taking what I can get for the time being, moving on when I either can or have to. Something to drink?” A slight wave indicated the waiter coming in their direction.

 

Left arm draped over the edge of the table, Ethan gestured disinterestedly at the suggestion with his hand and turned his gaze to the waiter. Responding to Stelara’s wave with a pop in his step, the waiter stopped at the table, wearing a flashy grin that furrowed Ethan’s brow.

 

“Water, thanks,” Ethan said.

 

“I’ll have the same,” she said to the waiter, then turned back to face him, somewhat surprised at her own reaction to his presence, as though something were drawing her to him. It was subtle, but there nevertheless. There seemed to be a lot going on in his head than he would never reveal. “My name is Stelara. I’ve worked here several years, and can’t wait to leave. And your name?”

 

Briefly pulling his attention from the lounge and its occupants, he studied Stelara for a moment before answering. “Ethan Neufeld,” he casually answered, and unconsciously picked up a sugar packet that he began to idly spin end-over-end on the table between his thumb and index finger. The waiter returned and left.

 

“So what’s your job here, Stelara?” Ethan asked, eyes again on the lounge and her coworkers’ activities. By the tone of his voice, he’d already deduced the answer, but he evidently preferred tangible and objective information when it was available.

 

“It’s fairly obvious, don’t you think?” she replied, relaxing in her chair, hands in her lap. “I’m here for your pleasure, or for company... whichever you prefer. I’m trained in many things, Ethan. I suppose I could say, ‘I am at your disposal.’” She allowed a brief, easy smile as she watched him twirl the packet, then took a chance. “But you’re not here for that, so I’ll ask you the same. Why are you here, Ethan?”

 

The hint of a smile briefly tugged at the corner of his mouth and he paused fiddling with the sugar packet. “I’m here because Joe is very persuasive and I don’t have a choice.”

 

“Joe. Your boss?” Her brows raised, she glanced to the crowd as though looking for him.

 

“He’s not here; meeting with your boss,” Ethan observed without looking at her.

 

“I see. Which leaves the rest of his little family fairly free to do as you choose?”

 

Ethan inclined his head. “If you’re part of his ‘little family’.”

 

“I take it you’re not.” His loose tongue surprised her, but only a little. Though his expression showed he didn’t care, his eyes showed he knew far more and was far more adept at this game than she - or Samus - had given him credit for.

 

“I’m an asset that owes him,” he replied plainly, the disquieted frustration in his voice apparent only to her.

 

“Hm...” Finding it difficult to keep a professional distance, Stelara sipped her water, thinking. “I gathered as much from the bit of conversation I overheard. You and the Orion?” Her eyes studied the ceiling briefly, as if to call attention to the bugs.

 

Ethan didn’t follow her gaze, briefly twirling the packet again as he watched the lounge. “Gotta feeling I’ll be hearing that again over the next few days,” he remarked. Then he quietly slapped his hand over the sugar packet where it fell flat on the table, and sliding it over the edge, he returned it to the dish with the rest.

 

“What do you want to know?” he asked as he steadily gazed at her, finally giving her a bit more attention than he was giving the room.

 

It came as a shock, but she took it in stride, thanking the higher power for her extensive training. Stelara shifted her position slightly to move closer. Keeping her tone and, given the tendency for prying eyes, her body language casual, she began, “Let’s start with the hold Joe has over you. You’re obviously a very capable operator, so it must be important for you to stay around and Joe must have quite a hold to make you wait.” She gave a slight smile as she opened her purse to retrieve a small object, placed it behind the sugar container, and turned it on. “But that’s more than a start. And now we have privacy.”

 

Her choice of words and actions didn’t go unnoticed, given his expression as he studied her, eyes searching for her angle. He readily and smoothly grabbed her hand as she pulled it from the jamming device, holding firmly but without causing pain. “This ends with you,” he warned lowly with a blank expression before letting her go.

 

As soon as the hold was released, she took his hand in hers, as though she were making progress in her original role. Leaning suggestively closer and allowing quite a bit of cleavage for good measure, she signed three letters into his hand, using her other hand as cover. She smiled, gave it a final caress, then released it slowly.

 

His brow furrowed at her and then his face showed a favorable change. “The vial contains a virulent contagion,” he answered after a minute; “I’m supposed to get it to a lab, so they can engineer a vaccine.”

 

“A contagion.” She kept the casual, suggestive smile, but her tone and vocabulary revealed a more mature, analytical nature she’d not previously revealed. “Biological? Viral? Or is that something yet to be determined?”

 

“Parasitic,” he answered minimally.

 

She turned her head coyly away from the crowd, cameras, and potential lip-readers. “And the ship is docked here.” Her tone betrayed her concern. One foot reached to rub along his leg as she crossed hers. “Play along and keep going.”

 

A surprising smile grew on his face, a smooth but unexpected change in body language from his initial reservations that told observers her charms were winning. He nodded subtly in affirmation of the Qob’s location, visibly relaxing. “Don't want to be enemies with the Qob, but Joe’s holding the vial until I give him the information he wants on my friends and clients.”

 

“And there’s no way to contact them.” She ran a hand up his arm to pull him closer, breathing into the hidden side of his face. “You pull the curtain. I will take the field down.” She made eye contact to be sure he understood that. “We’ll do just enough to make it convincing - you back off with whatever excuse you choose, and... if you trust me... I can get word.”

 

Ethan continued to smile widely a she removed the device, the movement hidden by her figure, but there was resistance in his voice when he spoke. “Rather leave the curtain open,” he said, pulling back with evident discomfort; “and I’m flattered, but you need to stop rubbing my leg.” The smile faded and he finally drank from the iced water glass he’d left sweating on the table.

 

“If you really want to talk about Joe, meet me here at 1215. I’ll tell you all about Apache Actual and his sidekick 0-5, when we fought the wicked witch of the east,” he remarked, throwing in a touch of irony.

 

She allowed herself a clueless laugh as he fed her the information. “I always love a good story. I’ll be here, you can bet on it.”

Edited March 11, 2012 by Ethan Neufeld

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

Stupid tart.

 

She honestly thought it was that easy. That he would give up the sensitive information he refused to give to the Qob, after a ten minute conversation with a convenient prostitute. Ethan didn’t think Samus was that ignorant. Samus must have sent her in knowing that the smallest detail he could gain from her encounter would add to what he had already. But after the way she’d laughed, she apparently thought she was clever. She believed she’d won him over; that he trusted her - a woman whose profession generally entailed masquerading as something she wasn’t, to lure and tempt the weakest of the weak.

 

She wasn’t helping Ethan’s general antipathy for prostitution.

 

For all her self-satisfaction, she’d left the table relatively empty-handed. She learned nothing new about the vial or his mission. Ethan had fed her the same information that Samus would eventually put together from his bug recordings. Granted, the message he’d given her at the end was real, but it wasn’t about to win her ‘employee of the year’. It was a feint. Ethan was more interested in what Samus would attempt to do with it, than banking on her unlikely conversion to ‘girl scout’. If someone in Samus’s organization could decipher the message - and he seriously doubted she could - they’d learn at most that someone Ethan knew might be monitoring the old ‘guard’ frequency at 121.5MHz, and might understand the message. Not particularly useful information, given it didn't name his friends, no one would reply to the message and Samus would learn nothing more. It was unlikely that Samus would take the bait. But if he did, Ethan was looking for Samus to intentionally or unintentionally reveal what he’d done. That Samus would also inadvertently transmit Ethan’s possible location to his friends was a bonus. Either way, it couldn’t make the situation much worse.

 

It was all a matter of strategy, seeking out every possible advantage, point of approach and egress. No different than revealing the Motoroils and his mission to the Qob when things had gone sideways on Zoalus. No different than the move he’d made upon realizing that Samus and Joe were enemies and the Qob was under surveillance. It was just a matter of time before a member of the Qob injudiciously let the vial’s existence slip or, worse, considered selling or bartering with it. Ethan had lost the vital ability to control the flow of information. Somehow, information on the vial would find its way into unscrupulous hands whether Ethan wanted it to or not. Damage control was the best tool he had left.

 

Where Samus was concerned, Ethan made sure he was the first to mention its existence in any depth. That Samus would question every crew member was a given. But Ethan’s intent was to convince Samus from the beginning that if he wanted full story, he would have to address Ethan directly, giving Ethan a better chance to control it from there. Thanks to the Qob’s heady first mate, Ethan had barely begun the damage control in time. She was setting herself up as Samus’s source of information mere hours after their arrival at Andus. Ethan was left hoping that Samus was as smart as he was giving him credit, but he was just one, small problem.

 

There were more comprehensive security issues looming and Ethan couldn’t play the same game with all of them without considerable risk. He’d have to fall back on trying to reason with the Qob’s crew to protect the vial and some would make that an unpleasant task.

 

But Joe had managed to surprise him. That Joe had slammed the door on Pher’s desire to use the vial as a bargaining chip; that he agreed with Ethan’s assessment of the Gular, had allayed some of Ethan’s concerns about Joe. Joe had empowered Ethan’s damage control efforts beyond anything he could have done alone; he’d proposed the very solution Ethan had hoped to reach, if he hadn’t become bogged down trying to reason with Pher. They would spread enough information to not only benefit any humanitarian efforts made, but likely mask details of the vial and its source as rumor. Ethan saw a similarity in Joe’s decision-making paradigm that instinct told him he could trust. Joe hadn’t asked Ethan to throw his principles aside to satisfy his crew; he’d thrown Ethan a line.

 

Ethan was ready and willing to have Joe’s back. He still didn’t trust the majority of the Qob’s crew, but he would set aside lingering personality issues and support the Qob when their job began.

 

The question was if the rest could do the same.

Edited March 19, 2012 by Ethan Neufeld