The Mission

As a table top RPG gamer I keep tabs on many game systems. Here you will find stories and shorts inspired by these systems.
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The Mission

Post by Wraithwriter »

Long delicate fingers wrapped themselves around a warm ceramic mug filed with coffee. The fingers belonged to a woman with aqua marine skin and intricately braided green hair. With a deep sigh the woman brought the mug to her lips to sip the heavily sweetened and creamed beverage. Savoring the caramel like flavor she sat on one of the galley's metal benches contemplating her current mission.

Shar'tas was seriously in way over her head. Her training in negotiating optimal trade agreements was not what the current situation needed. If the universe were truly just, someone with at least a modicum of training for hostage negotiations would have received the mission. Fate really was not fair when it put her in a place where she was the only available diplomatic representative of the Specter Corporation. A buzz announced the entrance of another late visitor to the galley.

Turning toward the newcomer, Shar'tas beheld instead not one but a trio, and a stranger group she'd never seen. Through the door walked a female human cyborg, a distracted ratfolk, and a kasatha wearing one of those scarves that covered the lower have of their faces. The cyborg was laughing and jamming her cybernetic arm into the four armed kasatha's side while the rat typed away on a wrist comp.

Putting on a smile she did not feel, Shar'tas raised a hand in greeting. "Good evening." Her greeting brought the three up short and snapped the rat out of what it was concentrating on.

"Technically it is not evening," the rat returned in perfect common. "It is in fact morning being that the chronometer reads 0300 hours." As Shar'tas lowered her hand now a bit unsure of the situation the cyborg spoke up in a thick accent.

"It was a social nicety Djir," then while shaking her head at the rat's lack of social grace she stepped forward with her flesh hand out before her. "Name's Britney, Britney Sanchez. You must be the Negotiator."

"Yes I am," Shar'tas' confidence returned as she addressed the cyborg woman. "Please call me Shar'tas. I am a Specter adoptee so have no family name to offer."

"No worries Corazon," Britney mollified as she took a seat opposite Shar'tas. "So what's eating you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Shar'tas' confidence waning once more.

"Well for one you are here and not in bed." Britney began counting the reasons off with her fingers. " Secondly, your barring is not indicative of one with your training, and lastly you got all defensive when I asked. So, tell me what's wrong, other than being forced into a mission that is outside your training."

Britney's last words caused her confidence to evaporate entirely and her jaw dropped in shock. Who else on this ship besides the Captian knew she was only a trade negotiator? "How did you -"

Britney polished the nails of her human hand on her shirt. "Corazon, there isn't much that I don't know on this ship."

"Alright Britney, fun is over," announced the kasatha, his low baritone coming from under the scarf. "We're your escort for the drop. Your strengths and shortfalls were a part of our brief."

"You never let me play Grafhex," Britney pouted before a glorious smile graced her lips despite the glare the kasatha gave her. "Sorry Corazon, sometimes my humor gets the better of me."

"At least you held your tongue with Commander Wright this time," commented Grafhex with a sigh.

"And you have no idea how hard that was," Britney told Shar'tas. "You have no idea how annoying that woman can be."

"That's funny, she said the same of you," noted the ratfolk without looking up from what he was doing earning himself a look from Britney.

"Enough," interjected Grafhex in a authoritative if exasperated tone. Then he addressed Shar'tas directly, "We just stopped in to introduce ourselves before the drop. The first hour of a drop is not the time for introductions. Also, you are aware of how these things work correct?"

"Yes Lieutenant," Shar'tas replied having deduced his rank from the bands on his jacket cuffs. "The negotiations are mine but if things get out of control the mission reverts to military control. However, I hope that things do not degenerate to that."

"I hope for the same, yet my cynical side doubts that it will."

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