Talking it Out

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - HELIX SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE

Few people would dare to assault a fortress world directly. Worlds like Bastion and Borosk were fortified with a wide array of planetary defensive measures, making incursions particularly hazardous. It was for this reason that Pollux chose them as the sight for the Helix Syndicate’s latest operation: private, maximum security prisons. There was no shortage of people in the galaxy looking to have someone, anyone, imprisoned for some, any, reason. So long as they were willing to pay the monthly stipend to keep them there, the Helix Syndicate would have no problem holding them.

Their primary customer-base would be planetary governments. Especially Borosk, after that embarrassing breakout not terribly long ago. The terms of the Helix Syndicate’s arrangements with Borosk and Bastion did not limit their customer base to just them or only governments. Pollux highly suspected some wealthier, spiteful individuals to come out of the woodwork. It was a cleaner way of being rid of disliked individuals or rivals, without all the guilt of actually murdering them.

Though if they did want to murder them, the prisoner could be arranged to suffer an accident for a modest fee.

In any event, the crux of these private prisons rested on freezing the prisoners in carbonite slabs for storage. It was far easier to keep prisoners this way, less chance of misconduct, riots, or escapes. The problem there was that current carbonite freezing methods were rather… Risky. There was a significant chance of killing the person being frozen in carbonite, and that just wouldn’t do. Fortunately, a solution had been presented.

Walker Redd moved to Bastion after being kicked off Bespin for his “amoral” carbonite experiments. Redd was a scientist, some long-haired human chump with a weird accent. His move out to Bastion, the fines imposed for his experiments, and the loans he took out to cover them all had wracked up quite a lot of debt on his part. After purchasing that debt, the Helix Syndicate used it to encourage his experiments further, with the promise that it would speed up the forgiveness of his debt.

After several months of painstaking research and a few trial runs on undocumented vagrants, Redd contacted the Syndicate to report the process as completed- perfected, even, thanks to their help. He had gathered up all the pertinent information on a few datapads and ready to be retrieved.

A speeder truck pulled up outside the warehouse Redd was operating out of. Pollux exited, followed by a fierce looking Kajain'sa'Nikto in strange armor and a pair of Helix Syndicate Enforcers. The Nikto, Deglarch, was a former member of the Morgukai. One of their best members until he left after a strenuous disagreement. Deglarch had never specified what it was and Pollux had never asked. Both men preferred it this way.

Pollux knocked on the doors, only to find that they were already open. The heavy, durasteel door creaked uneasily as it moved open in response to his knock. The Givin scowled and reached for his sidearm, a MSD-32. The Enforcers saw this and moved for their weapons as well. Deglarch let a hand rest on the vibrosword he brought with him, apparently not much partial to the saber-staff any more.

One of the Enforcers kicked the doors open and they moved in quickly, weapons trained for any possible threat. The threat, of course, had already passed. The hideout was ransacked. Terminals had been smashed, tables flipped. Sheets of flimsiplast were strewn about, as were the corpses of the Enforcers he had stationed here as guards. Walker Redd was conspicuously absent among the deceased.

Pollux frowned. “Chit.”

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - DEJARBA’S RESIDENCE

As was common, Pollux suspected it was the Waylon Syndicate that had done this. Given the sloppy execution of the raid and the amount of missed blaster shots from all the scorch marks, it was a fair assumption. Waylon also had a tendency to leave a job half-finished. If it were Pollux who had raided this warehouse, he would have burnt it to the ground already. The Waylon Syndicate were far older than the Helix Syndicate and had been the dominant player in the Pentastar Alignment for the past thirty years.

It was a long time to be in this game and a long time to get complacent. Waylon were much more hard-crime oriented than the Helix Syndicate ever was or would be, so perhaps they were resentful for being displaced in the information trading game. Minor skirmishes had broken out, but this was new and bold for Waylon. It meant that the petty skirmishes were over and Waylon was getting ready to ramp up its efforts to curb the Helix Syndicate.

Pollux could hardly wait.

For now, though, he had a mess to clean up. Everything of value was gone from the warehouse, which meant recovering Walker was now the top priority. Fortunately, Pollux had an informant he could count on to point him in the right direction. Dejarba was a Yarkora, a strange sight here on Bastion, but a welcome one given the circumstances. Sort of. Dejarba insisted on chewing some strange substance he imported from his homeland. He did not share Pollux’s sense of urgency.

He shuffled back into the living room, pocketing his commlink with one hand and brandishing a sheet of flimsiplast with the other. “Yes. It was D’Waylon.” He said. “They are taking him to anudda D’Warehouse. I wrote the address for D’You.”

Pollux accepted the flimsiplast, looking it over. He folded it neatly, placed it in his breast pocket, and tossed Dejarba a credit chip. “Thanks.”

Dejarba caught the chip and bowed graciously. “D’You are D’Welcome.”

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - WAYLON SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE

Several speeder trucks screeched to a halt in various places around the warehouse Dejarba had directed them to. The local, unaffiliated workers who were milling about around the area scattered the moment they saw the infamous red-armored Guavians pouring out, brandishing all manner of terrifying CZ slugthrowers. Pollux was present on one side of the warehouse, Deglarch directed to the other. Save for a blasterproof vest, Pollux dressed as he usually did.

It was easier now, more than ever, to see on what level the Helix Syndicate differed from the average, run of the mill crime Syndicate. The Enforcers moved like a government SWAT team, rigid and drilled to perfection. In the time it had taken Pollux to depart from Dejarba’s house and arrived here, his underlings had acquired the blueprints to the warehouse, assembled a strike team, disseminated it among the members of that strike team, and formulated an attack plan.

Multiple entrances were breached at once, Pollux following from behind with his pistol at the ready. The warehouse itself was a large structure, and the freighter-sized storage crates that clogged the interior formed a daunting maze. There was only a moment of silence before gunfire broke out and another more before Pollux realized that there were far, far too many Waylon thugs present here for this to be a regular safehouse.

Blaster bolts arced through the air, occasionally catching one of Pollux’s Guavians. Despite resistance, Pollux’s forces did not allow themselves to slow down or stop advancing. They kept moving. Discipline was everything in these situations, something the Waylon Syndicate’s brutes were not prepared to deal with. The demoralizing effects of explosive bullets tearing their friends apart before their eyes did little to help, nor did Deglarch’s war cries as he stormed forward, hacking and slashing at the thugs with little regard to his own safety.

Soon enough most of Waylon’s forces broke rank. Most of the warehouse had been cleared and there was still no sign of Walker Redd… Then Pollux heard the distinct sound of more speeder trucks pulling up outside. He hadn’t called for reinforcements.

More Waylon thugs poured into the building, seemingly undaunted by the failure of their comrades or the various body parts strewn about everywhere. The bloodbath recommenced, much to Pollux’s chagrin and Deglarch’s embitterment. Rapid reinforcements and Walker’s absence seemed to indicate that a certain Cameloid had conspired to have Pollux iced.

This displeased him greatly.

The counter-attack faltered as quickly as it had come. Pollux had grazed the arm of one of the thugs with his disruptor pistol. The thug leaped back into cover, only to start howling in terror and pain as the nature of the MSD-32 took its course. His molecules destabilized, the thug disintegrated in full view of his friends, who promptly decided that, no, they were not getting paid enough for this. Which was an unfortunate time to come to that decision, as part of Pollux’s strike force had circled around the warehouse and promptly trapped them, forcing their surrender. The enemy wounded were executed, and Pollux called in to order Dejarba be picked up.

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - ANOTHER HELIX SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE


It all happened so quickly. One moment, Dejarba was in the taxi, as instructed. The next, someone had run them off the road and dragged him right out of the cab, sticking him with some sort of taser and throwing a black bag over his head. Now Dejarba found himself thrown into a rigid, uncomfortable chair and was rather rudely handcuffed into it. Someone tore off the mask, allowing Dejarba to take in his surroundings.

The Yarkora squinted. The room was sparse and poorly lit, dominated by an imposing orange Nikto. Dejarba squinted harder at the Morgukai, noting the dried bloodstains on his armor and face. “D’You are Deglarch, I think.” Deglarch’s expression was rather neutral, staring at Dejarba with his arms folded.

Dejarba shifted in his seat, testing the restraints. “Well, I know D’Nothing of what happened. D’Torture will get you nowhere.”

The Nikto shook his head. “I’m not gonna be doing that.”

“D’Good. You are very D’Reasonable. Now-”

“He probably will, though.”

Dejarba twisted around to see what Deglarch was looking at, craning his long neck upward to see that Pollux had been standing behind him. The Givin cracked his knuckles and Dejarba noted he appeared to be wearing spiked knuckles. Pollux moved around the chair, stopping right in front of Dejarba. The informant, formerly trusted, swallowed hard.

“D’Pollux, you must listen. They gave me no D’Choice. I-”

And so it happened that Pollux beat the cameloid with such maddening, brutal force that the normally suave creature was yowling in pain. At first. After the seventh punch Dejarba was treading the line between consciousness, so Pollux was sure to pace himself so that Dejarba was awake for every blow. Yarkora had many redundant organs when compared to other species. Two pancreases, four kidneys, three livers, and two stomachs. They also had thirty-four teeth, but Dejarba was falling a little shorter on teeth with every blow.

Deglarch appeared to be watching passively, but was privately surprised. He had not suspected Pollux to be as… Strong… As he apparently was. He looked more like a shooter than a puncher. It might have been ten minutes or an hour this went on before Pollux relented.

“D’Waaait,” Dejarba half-gargled. “I give up. I’ll D’Talk.”

The Givin cocked his head to the side. “About what?”

“D’Information, I’ll tell you-”

“I already know, Dejarba. My men searched your home. We found everything.” The doors slid open behind Pollux, allowing a pair of Enforcers to enter. “This was for posterity. ”

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - THE SAME HELIX SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE

Dejarba was hauled out of the safehouse, eventually gagged after he wouldn’t stop babbling. He would make a lot of friends in the debtor mine on Mygeeto, Pollux wagered. He would have to, seeing as he would be spending the remainder of his two-hundred year life expectancy toiling there. A fitting punishment for people who elect to sell out the Helix Syndicate to its enemies.

Why would these people cling to Waylon? The way forward was with Helix.

Pollux slid off the bloody, spiked knuckles and dropped them into a nearby refuse can. Hopefully he did not have to do that again. Perhaps once the other informants heard about what happened to Dejarba after he bit the hand who fed him, their loyalty would intensify. If not, someone else could handle the beating next time. Another Enforcer marched up to Pollux and handed a report on what they found in Dejarba’s records.

Despite his blundering, Dejarba was a well-connected informant. Thanks to his meticulous record keeping, an entire web of Waylon Syndicate informants was exposed. They would be visited by the Helix Syndicate in the coming days before news of Dejarba’s predicament spread too far and allowed them to escape. The best way to grow an information network is to hijack someone else’s Pollux always found.

Which was also a leading philosophy among the Waylon Syndicate, it would seem. Dejarba had a list of his informants among the Helix Syndicate. Some of them Pollux already knew about. It was common practice to allow known spies to keep operating. It was easier to control what information his rivals got that way. Pollux often suspected a few of his own spies in the Waylon Syndicate were similarly compromised but permitted to keep acting… That is, if the Waylon Syndicate were smart enough to do so.

There’s never any way to one-hundred percent guarantee a safeguard against spies, save for employing no one but droids. Spies were just a fact of life in this business. They could only be dealt with as they presented themselves. And this list delivered unwittingly by Dejarba’s treachery offered a nice opportunity to deal with a large amount of spies within his own organization that he did not know about.

While Pollux was still reviewing the documents, another Enforcer approached, informing him that one of the captured Waylon thugs was ready to spill the beans.

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - THE SAME HELIX SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE

Leaving Deglarch in the main hall, Pollux entered the second interrogation room. The goon in the seat was looking less worse for wear than Dejarba had. The only objective here was to get information, after all. There was no need to send a message with this one. Once the Helix Syndicate had what it needed and verified it there was no need for further violence. Well, violence as graphic as that.

Eugene was by the door, wiping his hands with a rag. “Howdy.”

“He caved?”

“Yeah, him and his pals.” Eugene said, sticking the rag back in his pocket. “They’re taking him to Echol’ya. They got a safehouse there.”

Pollux turned his gaze to the bound, bloodied goon. The man was quiet, except for when he had to spit out some blood every so often. “Is that right?”

The man’s eyes flicked over to Pollux and tried to focus on him. Some small recognition flashed in his eyes and he nodded very weakly. Eugene was more traditional with his beatings, no need for any knuckles, spiked or otherwise. Did a number on his knuckles, though, but when you’ve been doing this nonsense for as long as Eugene had, you stopped caring. He once murdered a youngling with an axe. There was little he wouldn’t do.

“You confirmed this with our other informants?”

Eugene nodded.

“Good.” Pollux withdrew his sidearm, aimed carefully, and fired one shot directly into the goon’s chest. The goon had gathered his voice to shout but was cut forth, and only managed to gasp quietly as he crumbled to ash right in his seat. The Givin holstered his sidearm. “Kill the others. I have to make a call.”

Eugene, unmoved, picked a dried flake of blood off from his shirt. “Will do.”

There was a time and a place for mercy and other such sentiments. This was not either. Something very valuable to Pollux had been taken and Waylon had to understand that there was nowhere they could run that would stop him from reclaiming it. And on the off chance that they managed to elude him completely, they had to understand that no quarter would be given. Ever.

It’s just business.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

ECHOL’YA - SPACEPORT

Pewter, a Gran with abnormal, grey hands shoved Walker Redd forward, down the ramp of their docked shuttle. “Move it faster, you old kark.”

Walker looked behind him and glared at the Gran. Did he have any idea he was talking to? He wasn’t some “old kark.” He was Doctor Walker Johannes Redd, and he was about to make a fortune - a fortune - off of his perfected carbonite freezing process. These luddites were standing in the way of progress. Flawless cryostasis was about to be introduced to the galaxy at large and all these neanderthals could think about is-

For his failure to move and his uppity glare, Pewter smacked Walker across the face with his clammy, grey hands. Walker would have commented on how uncomfortable they felt if he could focus on anything other than the pain now burning on his right cheek. He turned back around and shuffled down the ramp with increased enthusiasm.

One of the goons in front, a Pa'lowick, suddenly paused. “Wait a minute.”

Pewter snarled. Again with these delays. “What?”

“Something’s not right.”

They looked around the landing bay. Empty and quiet. They had been directed to land here by control and just now noticed how secluded it was from the rest of the spaceport. Wasn’t there someone who was supposed to meet them here, anyway? Someone to log their arrival and check the ship?

Pewter’s thought process was interrupted when a wrist-rocket fired by an unseen foe impacted the Pa’lowick, throwing him, Walker, and three other goons around. The Pa’lowick was blown into an assortment of different chunks which flew everywhere. Walker was screaming. Not out of any sense of terror but more because some of the Pa’lowick had gotten into his mouth. It did not taste like chicken. It tasted like death.

“Son-of-a-karking-Gamorrean-chit-eating-belugan-whore-fishmonger-nerf!”

No part of Pewter’s long string of profanities made any sense at any point as he grabbed Redd by the scruff of his neck and hauled him forward, fleeing for cover as the landing bay devolved into a firefight. He was just a Gran with weird hands, clever curses were not part of his skillset. More importantly, how could anyone have been waiting for them here? The Helix Syndicate must have Mandalorians on retainer now. Just his luck.

His remaining allies were firing back, but it was a stilted fight to be sure. Armored Mandalorians had the high ground, a bunch of unarmored thugs with peashooters had the low ground. Pewter was at least fortune to have Walker Redd by the scruff. The Mandos weren’t shooting at him, so clearly…

And then, for the first time in his life, Pewter Grey-Hands had a good idea.

 

[Darth Osano]

BASTION - THE AFOREMENTIONED HELIX SYNDICATE SAFEHOUSE

The hologram of the Alor of Clan Sharmat, a Mandalorian Clan that essentially worked for Pollux now, flickered before the Givin. Neither man was inherently pleased to see the other, especially thanks to the information the Alor was currently relaying. Pollux was frowning quite deeply. What should have been a simple ambush and retrieval had become decidedly more complicated.

“Explain.”

“The Gran. He had grey-hands. Used the doc as a shield. Threatened to shoot him.” The Alor, Finnegan, spoke tersely and with authority, but deep down was keenly aware of the power Pollux held for him. If it got out publicly that Finnegan was part of those Death Watch renegades that nuked Keldabe, every Mandalorian in Crusader space would be braying for his blood.

It was a good thing that Pollux hadn’t allowed that to happen. Yet.

“We couldn’t peel him off in time. He and a couple survivors hijacked another ship. This one’s got a tracking beacon, though. I’m transmitting it now.”

That was a refreshingly positive piece of information for all parties involved. This meant Pollux didn’t have to air out anyone’s dirty laundry and it would make wrapping up this escapade sooner rather than later. There was another way for the Alor to make up for this travesty as well. “I’m sending you the location of several Waylon Syndicate hideouts on Echol’ya and elsewhere. I need them destroyed.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

Finnegan stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. His way of sighing in defeat, Pollux took it to mean. “Very well.”

“Good.” Pollux said, and the communication terminated.

 

[Darth Osano]

PREFSBET SECTOR - DEEP SPACE SHADOWPORT

A large freighter flung itself into the hangar bay, landing violently in its great haste. The Helix Syndicate had tracked the signal to this location in the Prefsbet Sector, a moderately successful Shadowport. Despite their influence in the sector, the Helix Syndicate had no direct control over the station. Nor did they want to. Some things were simply beneath their notice. It was only random chance that had brought them out here and nothing but random chance would bring them back.

Twenty Guavians, Pollux, Eugene, and Deglarch poured out of the ship. The Waylon thugs had only docked here shortly before the Helix Syndicate’s arrival, so there was still time to find them before they secured safe passage out off the Shadowport and vanished for good. Pollux ordered Deglarch and ten Guavians to find the shuttle Waylon had used to make their escape and search it. The Givin didn’t want to risk being duped.

The remaining Guavians spread out through the station, harassing any of the inhabitants they came across for information. Stories were often vague and conflicting. No one out here trusted an organized criminal outfit like Helix, for some strange reason. If Pollux had his way, his Enforcers would have beaten some courtesy into the more recalcitrant individuals. But there was another gang on this station. It would be better to neglect upsetting them and starting a firefight, if it was at all avoidable.

Their search inevitably brought Eugene and Pollux away from their Enforcers and into a small casino operating on the shadowport. Eugene saw them before Pollux did: three Waylon thugs. Two humans and the Gran with the Grey Hands. The Gran was herding Walker Redd in front of him with the occasional shove, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

He locked eyes with Eugene.

“Hey!”

Somehow over the din of the casino’s activity, they heard Eugene yell. Immediately the Gran grabbed Redd and took off at a breakneck pace. His two friends whirled around, weapons drawn, and started firing indiscriminately at Pollux and Eugene. The gamblers started screaming as they scrambled for safety. Eugene flung himself behind a holotable, allowing the dealer droid to absorb a few blaster bolts meant for him. He radioed for back-up, but Pollux didn’t believe they had time for that.

“Go after Walker.” Pollux hissed, peaking out from behind cover to return fire at one of the thugs. He missed, and a gambler was disintegrated. Woops.

Eugene had the good quality of not having to be told things twice. He check his shotgun and ran out the way they came, aiming to head off the Gran elsewhere in the station. Just after Eugene departed, the blasterfire intensified. Pollux hazarded a glance out from cover and found that the gang running the station had joined the firefight.

Great.

 

[Darth Osano]

PREFSBET SECTOR - THAT SAME DEEP SPACE SHADOWPORT

“Freeze, dirtbag!” Pollux turned around at that, seeing one of the station’s “security” personnel looming over him, blaster pointed square at him.

It had always been Pollux’s personal philosophy to know when to fold his hand. This was one of those moments. He froze according to instructions, the sound of the encroaching firefight becoming distant to him. “Stand up. Drop your weapon.” Pollux began to rise, looking dead into the eyes of the thug. He was about to drop his disruptor when the distinct sound of slugthrower fire reached his ears and the thug began to spasm violently as an assortment of explosive shells ripped him apart from the side, eviscerating clothes and flesh.

He fell over, a nearly halved pulp. The responsible party, a Helix Syndicate Enforcer, lowered his weapon and approached. “You alright, sir?”

As a matter of fact, he was physically, but if Walker Redd was getting away, no, he was not fine. And he never would be. Before Pollux could say something smarmy, a blaster bolt smacked into a nearby archway. It was those Waylon thugs again, kindly avoiding shooting at the station gang in favor of their arch-rivals. How kind of them. Pollux and the Guavian returned to cover, biding their time until reinforcements arrived.

They arrived, but they weren’t the right reinforcements. More station thugs joined the fray. Pollux risked another shot, hitting a station thug in the arm. He collapsed into ash amid his own screams not too long afterwards. Pollux could physically feel the fear and dread that entered the hearts of the survivors after that. Maybe no one noticed the gambler before, but they noticed that thug now.

The station gang was starting to advance, but the Guavian kept them suppressed with assault rifle fire. The Waylon thugs were being kept pinned down by a few station thugs, one of which Pollux sneaked another pot-shot on. Another hit. More screaming. Another ash pile. The two station thugs closest to the latest disintegration victim fled for their lives, taking enough heat off the Waylon thugs to allow them to return fire. One was still trying to kill Pollux, the other now more concerned with staving off the station thugs.

Not that it did them any good, because another trio of Guavians finally made their way to the casino, and at least one of them was carrying a grenade launcher. His companions laid down a nice sheet of covering fire, forcing enemy combatants back into cover. He took careful aim at the Waylon position and squeezed off a shot. A thermal detonator soared gracefully through the air and exploded on impact, flinging shattered pieces of furniture everywhere and ending their stint at the casino.

The station gang was not a very well armed outfit. Otherwise they would have brought out their own grenade launcher in response to the Helix Syndicate’s. They didn’t. Instead they ran, shouting half-hearted orders to regroup.

Deus ex Guavian? Perhaps. But nobody’s paying me for this thread, so it can be as hackneyed as I want it to be. Pollux was not entirely concerned about the quality of this thread, however, and more concerned with retrieving Walker Redd. He activated his comm-link. “Eugene. Report.”

 

[Darth Osano]

PREFSBET SECTOR - THAT VERY SAME DEEP SPACE SHADOWPORT PREVIOUSLY SEEN TWO POSTS HENCE

Pollux and the four Guavians tracked Eugene down, rounding a corner only to find Eugene standing idly with Walker Redd. Redd seemed shellshocked and distant. The Gran with the Grey Hands lay on the ground nearby in a pool of his own blood, clutching his chest to keep his intestines from spilling onto the ground, moaning and carrying on… Sputtering a string or profane words that made no sense when said together like that. What the hell is a Horker?

Eugene was little worse for wear, fiddling with his shotgun.

“What happened?”

“We talked it out.” Eugene said. “Then-”

“Then he shot him.” Walker finished, staring unfocused into a distance Pollux could not see. Pollux just now noted that the man seemed to be spattered with the gran’s blood.“He told him to go home to his family, make sure he got to see his son again. That his wife deserved better than this life he was living. That it wasn’t right his son could grow up without a father if he kept going through life like this.”

Walker paused and looked squarely at Pollux. “And then he shot him.”

An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as the Gran with the Grey Hands’ foul language got quieter and quieter, eventually silencing completely as he lost consciousness and bled to death.

“Okay.” Said Pollux. If Eugene had done something incorrectly here, as Walker seemed to imply, he wasn't seeing it.

“I mean, I was going to shoot him again to- ah.” The shotgun clicked. “See? Gun jammed. Thing about slugthrowers is-”

Pollux knew what “the thing about slugthrowers” was and opted to interrupt him. “Yes. Time to go.”

The Guavians took hold of Walker Redd and escorted him back to the shuttle. It would be rather inconvenient of the untimely, gruesome death of the Gran was going to haunt Walker now. Pollux typically found that his employees functioned better without being rendered zombies from Post-Traumatic Stress. Really, as long as Walker Redd coughed up the designs, he could become as zombified as he wanted.

Pollux would even forgive his debt and allow him to retire as a courtesy.

And who said this thread wouldn’t end on a happy note?

Roll credits.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xy_8LqenvGA​