What the Cat Dragged In

[Michael Cline]

Michael Cline was not a happy person right now, and hadn't been for several days. He had come to in a disgusting back alley on Coruscant to find five years of his life missing. Quite literally five years. He beat the data pad against the palm of his hand a few more times, the loud *thap* *thap* *thap* of the material on flesh most likely irritating some of the other passengers on the transport shuttle. He didn't care, because he was not a happy person, but he'd said as much already.

He tabbed back to the medical records he'd been given at the clinic he had visited before he took this flight.

Patient has symptoms conducive with hibernation sickness.

He scrolled a little further down to a halfway point between the diagnosis.

...coupled with the high levels of muscle relaxants, tranquilizing agents and carbonite residue to be found in patient's bloodwork...

He let out a frustrated sigh and tapped the pad against his hand again, in the back of his mind absolutely begging one of these nobodies to complain. He needed to hit something right about now. Oh he'd lost five years of his life alright, because someone had decided to decorate their home with him - or whatever one did with a carbonite frozen body. He'd find out who it was eventually, because if there was anything that Michael Cline wanted more than to get to Chandrila so he could return to the employ of Ms. Sasseeri Reeouurra, it was to find the person responsible and exact a little old fashioned revenge. Maybe he'd see how much of their own legs he could make them eat, or Shuttle IA-7, Coruscant to Chandrila will be docking shortly at the Hanna City terminal. We encourage all passengers to remain in their seats until the transport has come to a complete stop, and your attendant has directed you off of the transport. We hope you have had a pleasant trip with us today, and you will fly with us again soon. his fantasy was cut short by the announcement of their arrival to Chandrila. He couldn't wait to be off this ship and on his way to find Olorin. So when they did finally dock he wasn't in a mood to argue, and found himself the first person off of the flight even if he had to push past a few others. Slipping his sunglasses back into place as he raised his hand to block the sunlight that was, to be quite fair, a welcome change of pace from the dim, artificial lighting of the lower areas of Coruscant, he looked across the space port, and the docking ships.

Now, where the frell was the Morning Star?

[Kal Olorin]

Much too big to take into atmo, the Morning Star was currently performing an intricate dance with a space station in or it of Chandrila, docking carefully and vomiting out it's outrageous and wealthy customers. I had pulled rank and borrowed a shuttle, leaving directly from the pleasure liner rather than wait for one of the mass transit jobs to take me down to the surface with the rest of the cattle.

"Moo," I said softly, looking up through the viewport at the dwindling station as the planet loomed ahead of me. Everything went smoothly as I entered atmosphere and landed at the Hanna City spaceport. Too smoothly? Maybe. With the long lost Cline apparently back from the dead, or whatever, things were about to get bumpy. Now, how was I going to - ah, of course.

I was a good thirty minutes ahead of the first drop ships from the Morning Star, but I made my way to the welcome area where family and friends might wait to meet their loved ones. People looked up when I walked through the space, but I didn't see the ginger I was looking for. Well, frell. Maybe he'd call me.

i checked my chrono. How long would I wait?

[Michael Cline]

He tapped his finger angrily on the customer service desk again, louder than he had just moments before, the female attendant smiling and giving the typically bubbly response that they were trained to provide, even as she continued checking records for the impatient red-head.

I'm sorry sir, the Morning Star is being docked in orbit, and its passengers will arrive shortly by transit. If you'd like to wait, we can direct to where you can meet those who are arriving and...

The red-head had already turned and started away from the desk, not having the time or patience for someone that chipper right now. "I'll find it myself." He snapped back, heading in the direction she had begun motioning towards moments before. The welcome area was starting to fill up with people waiting on transport arrivals, friends and families, which just soured his mood all the further. He glanced around, scowling at the happy families before his vision caught sight of the man checking his Chrono.

He let out a breath, hesitating just briefly before steadying himself and approaching, raising an arm to signal in Olorin's direction as he approached.

[Kal Olorin]

I nodded with an easy grin on my face as Cline caught my attention. "Hey, strang - holy krasst, you look exactly the same!" The kid looked nervous, and if I didn't know better I'd say he hadn't aged a day since he'd fallen off the grid on Coruscant five years ago.

"Not a great place to catch up," I said, cutting off any sort of explanation he might have been ready to spill. "There's a commuter bar nearby, c'mon." We could have gone to my ship, too, but I didn't really want to just invite him on board. He's been gone for five years after all - maybe he'd been reprogrammed into an assassin or something. I think I saw a holofilm like that once. Once we were settled into a booth with a pitcher of beer on the way, I leaned back against the bench seat and studied him.

"So. Did you discover anything else since we talked last?"

[Michael Cline]

Cline nodded, sliding the datapad over to him as they waited on drinks, then steepled his fingers, staring down at the table as he spoke. "I went to a 2-1B droid, like you suggested. That," He motioned at the datapad he'd just slid across to the other man "is what he found. Apparently someone thought it would be a laugh riot to freeze me in carbonite." He had to restrain his temper at the thought, despising the notion that he'd been hung on someone's wall as little more than a conversation piece. He had to assume it was Sudoku's doing, but he wasn't the only person with an axe to grind against the red-haired youth, so he couldn't be certain. Not yet at least.

"I'd be lying if I didn't admit that one of the reasons I'm so keen to get my job back is to have the resources to find out who did this to me." If he was going to have to argue his way back to his former position, he was going to start off being as honest as he could in an attempt to earn back some trust.

[Kal Olorin]

"Wow, carbon freeze. Like you were a crate of peaches or something." I gave the pad a cursory glance, and whistled low. "Well, lucky you got this recorded before the symptoms wore off. Sasseeri might not welcome you back with open arms but... then again, maybe she will. Anyway, she's not likely to throw you in front of a firing squad - hey, kid, you're looking a little pale." I grinned and poured the newly arrived pitcher to fill his glass.

"Drink up. I'll call Sassy for you, if you want. She liked you an awful lot. Now that you're back - she'll probably want to find out who deprived her of your company as much as you want to know who turned you into an ice brick." I toasted my glass toward him and drank it down.

[Michael Cline]

He returned Olorin's toast with a growing smile, before drinking about half of his. This was all going much better than he'd feared, and Olorin would be his advocate to Ms. Sasseeri. Hopefully that, along with the medical data he'd given to the man, would be enough to at least get his foot back in the door. That was Ms. Sasseeri's call though, and if there was any nervousness left in him it was at the idea of having to explain himself to her to try and get that opportunity.

He finished his drink, and poured them each another, raising his glass in his own toast. "To renewed opportunities, Mr. Olorin."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

She caught herself sitting on the edge of her seat, and slid back a little, her tail curling around her waist and tickling the inside of the opposite elbow. Sasseeri idly played with the tuft of hair on the tip of her tail, pulling it between her fingers as the minutes on the wall chrono ticked by.

The door of her penthouse chimed and she called, "Come jin!" but it was only Prent. Sasseeri grumped a bit, but let him stay. "Yourrr prrredecessorrr should be herrre jin any moment." Olorin had called and forwarded the medical report. Someone had stolen Michael Cline from her and frozen him in carbonite for five years. Granted her memory of him was mostly that of a young man who wanted to learn the ropes, and eager to please. She had been very upset when he had just up and disappeared.

And now, he was back. The door chimed, and she sat forward in her power suit as the security AI let Cline in.

[Michael Cline]

He was loathe to admit it, but he there was tension building up in the pit of his stomach in ways that only a stiff drink could settle. He'd have to indulge that vice later, as he approached the door to Ms. Sasseeri's penthouse, and found himself hesitating, if only momentarily. It was becoming an obnoxious habit, and not one that he could afford. He'd have to steel himself more fully from this point on, before it got him killed, or worse. He let the door open as the AI allowed him access and he walked in, at least he had managed to wrangle up a fresh suit. Olorin had seen to that before sending him into the Lion's den, as it were.

"Ms. Sasseeri." He said walking in, tone warm and apologetic. "I cannot apologize for my absence enough."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

She hadn't exactly decided what his welcome would be until he walked into the sitting room, but once she saw his unruly red hair and big eyes it was like no time had passed. Technically, if the reports were true, no time had passed for Cline. He stood there, trying to look self-assured but still simple enough that she could see how worried he was. With all his "Ms. Sasseeri's", and "I just want to make you happy", he was like a favorite puppy returned from being hit by a car. Sasseeri got to her feet and crossed the room to him, hugging him tightly.

"jI am just glad you arrre okay," she said, releasing him and holding him at arms length to study him. "jIsn't that rrrjight, Trrragoni?"

Yes, we are pleased to see you, Michael Cline. It has been five years, two months and six days since -

"Neverrr mjind all that," Sasseeri said, waving the security AI silent. Still, the program had identified him from it's files, which meant she could be ninety-nine percent sure he was not an imposter.

[Michael Cline]

Being caught up in Ms. Sasseeri's arms and pulled into an embrace had caught him off guard, though he did so love the feeling of being against her. It was quite possibly his favorite perk of his employment. He was about to speak when the computerized AI chimed in, and confirmed just how long it had been since he was last at his employer's side.

Certain facts immediately registered in his mind. The first being Ms. Sasseeri still hadn't released him from her grip, the second being that they weren't alone in the room, and finally that at some point in the last five years the furniture had been moved. "Other than my obvious confusion from the loss of time, I'm no worse for ware, thankfully." He gave his best reassuring smile.

[Sanis Prent]

I tried not to roll my eyes at the scene, in the end making as little show out of appearing to give the potted plant to my right a glance. Was this kid for real? He had the doe-eyed gawk of a farm boy, and Sasseeri seemed almost genuine in her affections. He seemed about as street smart as a sack of potatoes from the first impression, so my second guess as to his usefulness to the Vigo was that carpet burns on his knees agreed with him. If the kid's usefulness went beyond keeping the insides of Sasseeri's thighs warm, then the poor bastard had a lot of catching up to do. It had been a helluva five years to miss.

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

"You wjill have a lot of rrreadjing to do. Sanjis can help catch you up." Sasseeri gestured to the disinterested man, and sighed with irritation at his expression. "He jis takjing carrre of my assets herrre on Cloud Cjity. jI'm surrre you rrrememberr how to assjist? Then assjist Sanjis forrr the tjime bejing. jI am surrre you wjill be up to speed soon."

She patted Cline's cheek and then looked at her chrono. "Well, jI have an appojintment. Have fun, boys." Sasseeri walked past Cline to the penthouse entry and the turbolift door. It closed behind her with finality.

[Michael Cline]

He watched her leave, clicking his tongue in slight annoyance as the door closed behind her. Damn. So he wasn't back at her side, yet. But, he was at least back on the payroll, and it was a step in the right direction. He'd been keeping this, Sanis in his peripheral vision during the exchange with Ms. Sasseeri. The man had seemed disinterested at best, and he couldn't get a read on his intentions yet - though he could already feel the unease in the air at the notion that Cline was now at his command. He wasn't sure if it was Prent's or his own. It was times like this he really did wish he could simply read someone's mind, rather than merely pick up on intentions and emotions.

"Well, it appears that I am under your employ." He hooked his hands into his pants pockets, his suit raising up to accommodate them. "How may I assist you, Sanis?" He wasn't sure what the man would prefer he refer to him as, so he'd simply go by what Ms. Sasseeri had said until told otherwise.

[Sanis Prent]

"Mr. Prent, actually."

Well there was a first time for everything, wasn't there? I usually wore formality with distaste, but something about having the kid address me by the familiar annoyed the shit out of me. We weren't buddies, and he wasn't my sidekick. Taking stock of Cline, he didn't look like much of anything, but the old Nar Shadaan saying about hungry dogs biting the hardest wasn't lost on me.

I walked past Cline to Sasseeri's wet bar nestled into the far wall. Going to the task of arranging something neat for myself, I kept his reflection in the mirror within sight as I tended to matters.

"Boss seems to have taken a shine to you. I honestly don't want to know the details on that story..."

Second verse, same as the first and all. I really didn't want to hear how similar our stories might end up being.

"...so I'd like to know what use you are to me."

I turned around, a finger of Corellian single malt in a crystal tumbler as I waited for Cline to explain his skillset.

[Michael Cline]

He gave a single nod at the correction of how Mr. Prent would be addressed, and watched the man fix himself a drink, and promptly get to the business at hand. He adjusted his cuffs, straightening them as he waited for Mr. Prent to turn around, Cline standing a bit straighter as he did. This man was going to be his employer... at least for the time being. He'd act the role in that case.

"I accomplish tasks, Mr. Prent. Put a job before me, I'll find a way to complete it." He lowered his head slightly, bringing a finger to his lower lip as he considered. He wasn't sure how much Ms. Sasseeri had shared of his... unique skill set. It was best to keep the fact that he was an adept to himself for the moment. He'd offer it up if pressed, but it wasn't a smart thing to throw that information around openly.

"But if you're looking for a more complete resume, I can offer this. I am entirely without morals, have an absolute love of violence, and I'm fiercely loyal to my employer. As that is you, at the moment, it means I will go to any lengths you ask me to, to accomplish your goals."

The Sith from the Order, his former master Darth Sudoku, the rest of the Crew. They'd all had entirely the wrong idea of how to use their abilities. It wasn't about becoming the biggest, baddest Sith, or becoming one with the Darkside, or even about taking whatever you wanted. It was about finding a niche you were both good at and enjoyed, and becoming the best at it.

"Put me to the test." Cline offered, a grim smile coming across his young features. "Since I'm sure that came across as little more than me being a braggart. Let me prove my usefulness, rather than talk about it, Mr. Prent."

[Sanis Prent]

"Ah, you're muscle, then."

I chewed on the comment as my tongue rolled the residuals of the first sip of whiskey away. My lips pressed thin as I tried to match the kid's appearance with what he was laying in front of me. Lack of morals was, well, if you didn't walk into Black Sun with eyes wide open then it was gonna be a real bad go of things for you. As for the violence? Cline looked like the kind of guy whose muscle was in a trigger finger. Tap tap and all.

"Well, I'm sure we can find a use for that, but let me ask you something...Michael...Mike, can I call you Mike? Let me ask you something, Mike."

I cradled the tumbler with both hands in front of me, tapping idly on the rim of the crystal with a finger.

"What is it that we do here?"

[Michael Cline]

He tilted his head slightly at the familiarity that Mr. Prent was using. He honestly didn't care what he was called, he'd answer to "Hey, you." as long as the pay was good and he was able to keep his knuckles to the grindstone. But that 'Hey, lets be buddies' tone of voice - coupled by the next question, and the intent he could feel dripping off of them made what was happening apparent, or at least that's how Michael saw it. This was a test. He could almost pick it out of the man's mind, "You're the guy I don't know much about and I'm being saddled with - exactly how much am I going to have to hold your hand through this?"

"We make a profit." He said, after considering his answer for a moment. "Maybe thats with the schlub in the Casino who doesn't know the odds are against him. Maybe something falls off the back of a freighter, and we just 'happen' to be there to salvage it. Of course there are always the people who are down on their luck and need some credits fast, even if the interest rates can be aggressive." He paused there, and smiled, wide and almost manic, cracking the knuckles on one hand subconciously. "I really enjoy working with those people."

He coughed a bit, catching the action after he'd made it, and straightened his arms back out, clasping them behind his back. "But those are things for you to worry about, Mr. Prent. Like you said, I'm muscle." He knew how he looked; ginger hair, light frame, young. Cline looked more like an errand boy than what anyone would call muscle.

[Sanis Prent]

"That's right."

I raised my glass in a casual mock salute, and sipped again.

"Profit. Credits. Money. Scratch. We're a business."

Shrugging, I paced a little bit, catching a bit of the window's view as I turned away.

"And this is a franchise. We make enough money to kick a chunk of it upstairs to keep the boss lady happy, and hope like hell there's enough left over so that we're happy too. The fact that what we do may be illegal at times...well, we have lawyers on hand for that. Focus on the money, Mike. It's the universal lubricant. It runs out, the machine breaks down. And one of the fastest ways to make sure the money runs out is to play fast and loose with blood."

Finding the chair on the other side of the desk, I sat down, making sure my glass found a coaster before leaning back a little.

"I'll brush you up on the basics of recent history. When the Empire came back to Bespin, they made sure they stuck the flagpole in good and deep, if you know what I mean. They don't want another guy like Lando Calrissian trying to run an independent game, so they're calling the shots pretty much indefinitely. That hasn't stopped the Hutts from worming their way in and a few other operators. Suffice to say, running our business on Cloud City is a lot more complicated than just finding the next throat to cut."

[Michael Cline]

He nodded appreciatively of the explanation. Fact of the matter was, if it were up to Michael it probably would be all about the next throat to cut - but that's why he was the one learning this business, and not the one running it. The talk of the Empire being so active on Bespin put him at unease, if only a touch - the last time he'd been active they'd had Inquisitors who actively hunted out kids like him. He'd managed to keep his distance from them, but there had always been that lingering threat. The little reading up he'd gotten to do on the subject since his 'thaw' had told him they were out, and the Imperial Knights were in. A new coat of paint on a beat up Speeder, as far as he knew.

Yeah, definitely a good idea to keep his adept abilities on the down low unless necessary then. "I follow you, Mr. Prent." Cline walked to find himself across from the man's desk where he sat, "Make money, but do it so you avoid making waves - or at least as much as possible. I'll be on my best behavior, sir."

[Sanis Prent]

A grin cracked my face a little.

"Just play it smart. There's a need for a little blood here and there. We're not going to be pushed off the block because we're afraid to push back, after all. We keep the Empire from cracking down and we avoid an open gang war on the upper levels, we'll do well enough."

Still, I kept Cline's offer on the table. I did want to see exactly what I was being saddled with.

"Sasseeri thinks you're legit, so I trust you won't flip and snitch if you do get caught, but neither of us want that. Five years in detention pass a lot worse than five in carbonite, and...I'd have to hear about it the whole way, so save yourself the time and save me the headache."

A few moments of tapping through files on the desk terminal netted the result I wanted, and I put the feed through the holo emitter for Cline to see.

"Here we go. Pandro Aask. One of our wholesalers."

A flickering image of an Ithorian floated between us.

"He buys glit from us and I suspect he's also bundling ryll for the Hutts. Puts a markup on that, and has his own people move it into complicated markets we don't touch, like the Hapes Cluster. It's chump change compared to our galactic take, but we're not going to give up that market to someone else, even if they're paying a premium for the trouble."

I waited to see if Cline was expecting the other shoe to drop before continuing.

"Trouble is, we bought back some product street level in the cluster, and it's light. Fifteen percent light. Silicon fiber and other shit thrown in to keep the weight correct, but the product is weaker than we put our reputation behind. So someone's charging our price plus markup for second-rate product, and pocketing fifteen percent pure."

[Michael Cline]

Cline watched as Prent brought up the image of the Ithorian, and tilted his head slightly, trying to remember if he'd ever dealt directly with one before, immediately trying to chronicle where the weakest points on this 'Pandro Aask's' body would be. Where the right pressure would be the most effective without breaking the drug dealer, at least not too badly. He considered that while Prent explained the situation, and the missing 15 percent.

"So, you'd like me to find out who's pocketing the product, put the fear of God into them to get it to stop and if at all possible procure what is rightfully owed to us?" He looked at the holo image on the table again, and then back to Prent. "Should I assume I have permission to use, within reason, whatever means I need in this task? Some people don't like to talk without the proper motivation, after all."

[Sanis Prent]

I gave a somewhat-skeptical look at Cline and his interpretation of what I'd said.

"It's either Aask, and he's obviously bent, or one of his underlings, and he's just incompetent and can't figure out what his own people are doing to fuck him. I don't know which one's worse, honestly. Look, if there's a blatant smoking gun and you can find something out or recover our merchandise, that's bonus points. But the long and short of it is that this..."

My finger jabbed into the Ithorian hologram's head, the metaphor hopefully sticking into Cline's own head in a similar fashion.

"...is our problem. And I want you to fix it. Nobody steals from us. That's the message I want you to send without a word."

[Michael Cline]

He watched Prent's finger poke through the hologram's head and had to fight a smile at the imagery. He'd been overthinking what Prent wanted. He nodded, hands hooking into his pants pockets as he did. "That I understand, sir." If he could find out anything else, like Prent had said - bonus points, but it probably wasn't the best idea to dig into this too deep. He'd said it himself, afterall, he was muscle.

His mind was working now to decide on the best possible way to send that message. Whatever method he took, there was one thing for certain. Pandro Aask was going to die.