<a class="link link--external" href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/67/ba/d6/67bad6b09e26897151727e29ffe811e3.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Thomyris “Riz” Heroux</a><br/>Location: Kohlberg Station<br/>Tagged: Iona Knutedottir<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>The meeting had proceeded like clockwork. Like well-oiled dancers in rhythmic routine, Iona and the merchant had bartered, arranged, and sealed a deal. She remained quiet, but observant during the exchange as terms were discussed and finalized. They had to fetch it from the merchant’s rented stores on the station and move it to their own ship. Thomyris was already calculating whether it was necessary to (unpopularly) summon the crew back for it or attempt to do so all by herself. It would be something nice to keep herself busy at least.<br/><br/>To Iona’s offer, she nodded. Yet when they were interrupted and broached by a stranger in regards to their latest deal, she was at once suspicious. But she knew better than to voice her complaints openly, especially if the Captain was speaking. She again remained quiet, watching Iona intently as she dealt with the newcomer. It did seem rather convenient.<i>Mung, like the bean. Sandra Mung….See? I’m all about plants.</i>The laughter was lost on Thomyris, tight-lipped, looking up at Iona to gauge her reaction. She found it a little too convenient now.<i>Or I just met another nutcase. After all the shit I’ve seen on the St. Anne, should this really be surprising?</i><br/><br/>At the establishment, Thomyris merely requested whatever the Captain got for herself. She never had the luxury of choice when it came to drinks. Seated, she watched the Captain and the stranger again negotiate. Something about Sandra seemed…robotic? Monotone? Her voice sounded automatic and though she met Iona’s look about the strangeness, she didn’t quite grasp that something was amiss. Not until the first instance of profanity was used, causing Thomyris’ heart rate to spike too many beats a second, thumping like the bassline of one of Mateo’s songs. A soft gasp of surprise and shock left her little lips and she glanced once more to Iona, only to see a gun pressed to the back of her neck.<br/><br/>As if Thomyris might indeed be convinced to do something stupid. There were firearms involved. All she had was a stun baton.<b>“Sitting still.”</b>She repeated in affirmation, trying to keep her voice steady, eyes fluttering from Iona back to their new captors. She was too petrified to try anything.<i>And this is probably why she usually takes Donovan on these meets…</i>A sharp inhale was sucked through her nostrils as Thomyris found herself staring down the face of a gun. Icy fingers gripped her heart. For all the confidence and bustle she tried to portray, she too held a deep, innate fear of death. Life was hellish, true. But what else was there? Around her mug, which she still clutched, her hands began to tremble.<br/><br/>At first she thought this was some sort of simple space-lane banditry, a robbery, or some form of extortion. But when the woman, Sandra, came at her and her specifically, Thomyris realized at once what they were after.<i>A fat sixty grand profit.</i>She looked helplessly over to Iona, her lip quivering very slightly as her composure drained away under these blows.<i>She was caught. And not only was she caught, but a friend and her employer was dragged into the mess.</i>Thomyris was sure she’d be out of a job too now.<br/><br/>Everything went to hell after that. Thomyris didn’t know how it started but the first and last sight she saw was Iona whipping into action. She was no combat specialist, certainly. She could kill of course, when her prey wasn’t fighting back. But in a fight like this? She was no more than fodder and she knew it, throwing herself down into the vacant space left by the overturned table, crouching low and covering her head as if it might repel actual projectiles, her eyes wide and watching. She heard the aftermath of the guns blazing, each like a spike being driven into her chest, her heart leaping and jerking with each frightening discharge. When would it end?<i>When something hot, searing, and deadly pierces through my body…</i><br/><br/>Something did pierce her though. Right in her ears. Iona’s voice, clear as sirens in that ruckus, broke right through to Thomyris, who whipped her head up and wasted a good few seconds gazing around in wonder and fear. She saw Iona on the ground and immediately began to worry.<b>“C-Captain?”</b>She at first stammered, thinking the woman was hurt, before common sense kicked in. Thomyris had never been cool under combat. She never had the chance to build up a coolness. But there was something cooler than she currently in her hands.<i>Her drink</i>. And a friend and protector under assault? She didn’t need the coolness. A burning desire in sharp contrast to it was swelling up in her.<br/><br/>She saw someone rise up to the side of the Captain. Thomyris did what she could. She flung her cup at the would-be assailant and splattered the spring water right in their eyes. Enough for a momentarily distraction to crouch down and grab the Captain around a shoulder, tugging her up. Shots fired all around, somewhat blind and wild, driven to caution from their prospective prey's defensive ferocity. Another kick, more fuel to the fire lit under her ass, and Thomyris finally moved, keeping her head down, eyes forward, darting from the table and towards the exit. She paused there, only momentarily, to make sure the Captain was with her as well. Thomyris wasn’t going to run without Iona, even if it cost her own life.<br/><br/><b>“Are you hurt? Did they get you? What should we do?”</b>She asked urgently, eyes boring intently into the other woman for an answer, disliking any idleness and certainly not wishing to return to any state of helplessness. Her hands gripped at the Captain’s arm for a moment, before seizing it and beginning to tug the taller woman with sudden resolve. She had done this before.<i>Escape.</i>She only examined her datapad once, hand still shaky, determining the best route back to their hard suits and grav-sled. She didn’t say a word until they made it to the locker rooms. Thomyris wordlessly shut the door and bolted it locked, not caring if it was a public place that was supposed to be accessible to all. If they were still being pursued, at least knocking the door down would give them ample warning.<br/><br/><b>“What about the others?”</b>She inquired, as she rushed to cover herself in her suit, fingers trembling with the straps in some place. Her heart was still thumping a mile a second, pounding in her chest and ears. A hard lump was in her throat. She almost died. The Captain almost died. And all because of her.<i>They were after me, I think. I know they were. But I never met that woman before in my life. I should never have disembarked from the ship…</i>she thought to herself, bringing her hands up to rub her face, before shooting to her feet. She slipped her helmet on and unless the Captain said so, Thomyris would mostly likely forgo the buddy check in favour of a timely escape. Who knew where the others would be? She left it to the Captain to notify the crew.<br/><br/><b>“T-The ship is s-stationary, right? So a straight shot back should suffice...”</b>Thomyris stammered through the helmet comm as they returned to the grav-sled. She didn’t think she had the steadiness to launch them through another rumbling trek through space to their distant freighter. Still, once Iona gave the affirmation, if it was even true, Thomyris would launch them immediately off, racing back towards the freighter.<i>And safety.</i>She wondered if the others knew or were being targeted because of her.<br/><br/>The journey through space was hellish misery for Thomyris, though she surprised even herself in keeping a steady hand. Yet the silence of space made her inner emotions feel all the more keenly, her heart still throbbing in her ears. Yet the lasting effect of it did not extend as it had the first time, when she had fled.<br/><br/>She figured she would be in for it, the moment they were out of their hard suits. She hadn't told the full story to the Captain, nor mentioned that her debt was liable to be picked up by independent collectors and bounty hunters. Thomyris certainly did not think herself important or relevant enough to warrant such a concerted effort on her. But she was, to the wrong people. And it put the Captain and possibly the lives of her fellow crew members on the line. She owed them something, her life even. A part of her wanted to go back, to fetch them before they fell under some harm. But the call, and the means to do so, were with the Captain, whom Thomyris figured wasn't rating very high in her books no more.