<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000"><i><b>NOTE:  This post contains a time change<br/>
</b></i></span><br/><a class="link link--internal" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=83335&amp;pid=2015179#pid2015179"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#dda0dd">Iona Knutesdottir<br/>
</span></a>Kohlberg Station<br/>Evening Watch<br/>Tagged: Thomyris<br/><br/>"Deal," he finally said, the negotiation for the cargo had taken almost an hour, and thumbprinted the data pad between them, confirming his acceptance of the terms.  Iona added hers and the screen winked green, indicating it had been filed with and accepted by the stationside computer.  The St. Anne now had the legal right to the cargo and the obligation to carry it, the shipper had funds in escrow pending delivery with a third of the payment up front to cover operating costs.  It was by far from the best deal she'd ever made but with Thomyris' clever and undisclosed plan to carry it bulk instead of containerized, Iona felt pretty good about the final terms.<br/><br/>Ignoring it and them, the broker began updating his paper ledger, pen scritching over the pages.<br/><br/>"Let's celebrate," she said as they left and entered the<i>souk</i>.  "My treat," Iona added.  "I could really go for a nice tall cold glass of sp-"<br/><br/>Iona stopped talking abruptly as a woman stopped in front of them, smiling and holding her hands loosely by her side, as if to show she didn't have anything.  "You're looking for recycler plants," she said and waited.<br/><br/>Iona didn't bother asking how the woman knew.  They had discussed their business in public, with no particular care to keep it secret, and every market had networks of people hired as eyes and ears that gleaned random bits of conversation and reported it for tenth-creds that they hoped would pay off later as the crucial piece to a puzzle to someone.  The ear that had heard their conversation was about to get a nice payoff.<br/><br/>"Potassium scavengers," she said.  "Suitable for-"<br/><br/>"Zienus, yes.  I have just the thing," the woman interrupted.  "Now I bet you were just about to celebrate closing the deal," her head twitched towards where they'd just exited.  "Why not let me buy you those drinks and discuss our business at the same time?"<br/><br/>"All right," Iona said after the briefest of pauses.  It was far from unusual but it still gave her an odd feeling.  Something wasn't quite right but she didn't think it was dangerous except in a financial sense.  "Lead on, friend."<br/><br/>"Mung, like the bean.  Sandra Mung," she gave her name.  "See?  I'm all about plants," she offered and laughed.<br/><br/>A few minutes later they were in a back alcove of a watering spot with the glimmer of a privacy shield between them and the rest of the establishment.  There was no direct visual, the curve of a station bulkhead providing the extra bit of privacy.  Iona's back was to the privacy shielded opening, something which Donovan had told her never, ever, ever to do but he was just paranoid.  Thomyris was on her left and both had been supplied with the drink of their choice; Iona's was in a beer mug, sides rimed with slushy ice, but the liquid inside was coldly crisp spring water, shipped up from the planet, and it had a wonderful taste.  Hell, it had a taste and wasn't flat and lifeless like the stuff from the shipboard recyclers.<br/><br/>"My partner is bringing us a sample," Sandra said while they exchanged pleasantries.  "It's a rice variant.  Grows submerged and semi-submerged and it uptakes potassium preferentially," she stumbled over the word like she hadn't said it much before.  "It, uh," her head cocked just the slightest bit to the side and Iona realized she couldn't see the woman's ears, hidden by her hair, and suddenly understood the woman was listening and repeating the information.<br/><br/>Flicking a look at Thomyris, Iona leaned back in her chair a little bit.  "What gives, sister?  I thought you were the dealer, not a middle man.  What kind of drek is this?"<br/><br/>"The kind where you sit real fucking still," said a voice behind her and Iona felt a whisper of air as the privacy shield was disturbed when the man walked through.  The widening of Thomyris' eyes was enough to let Iona knew there was probably a-<br/><br/>Yep.  Hard metal poked through her hair and tapped painfully against a vertebra of her neck.  Had to be a pistol of some sort.  Donovan could have instantly spun around like a spider on meth and done something her eyes could never have sorted out and then there would be two dead assholes and that weird as anything look on his face in the aftermath.  Iona wouldn't even get past the point of thinking about it before they'd gun her down.  "Sitting still," she confirmed, her only movement to cut her eyes to Thomyris and shake her head very slightly to discourage the young woman from doing anything stupid.<br/><br/>The man remained unseen but the barrel withdrew off her skin.  Sandra, if that was her name, took out a pistol of her own from beneath her clothing and held it on Thomyris, shaking slightly with excitement.  "We got them," she said and giggled.  "We're going to be so rich."<br/><br/>"Yeah," the man agreed and his feet shuffled as he moved from behind Iona to put his back to the station wall.  "We're going to be rich.  Cuff her and let's take her."<br/><br/>Rich?  They had far too inflated of an idea of how much cash the St. Anne could muster and Iona worried that they'd be pissed when they found out how little cash they could get from holding her for-<br/><br/>Why was Sandra approaching Thomyris?  Why was she going to cuff the young woman?  The real money was with the Captain.  Both of them had their attention on the young woman when the whooping alarm on the station bulkhead went off, indicating a serious fire.<br/><br/>Donovan might have had the edge in combat, but even he would have been surprised at how quickly Iona moved.  Safety and response to alarms was far beyond thought with her, being deeply instinctual, and where other people would be startled and spend precious time turning towards the light and whooping noise, then even more time interpreting it, Iona just reacted.<br/><br/>Long, low g legs drew up like a frog and she kicked the underside of the table, flipping it up into the face of Sandra and the man even as her own chair went over backwards.  Iona's head tucked hard into her chest so when she hit the ground she didn't hit her head.<br/><br/>Her shard pistol was already clear and started whining, sweeping from right to left over the top of the table.  Where they hit the table they puffed into harmless dust, just like the ones that went over the top and hit the bulkhead.  If they hit flesh or light clothing they'd punch on through and wreak razor-edged havok but were totally safe against anything else.<br/><br/>It was okay, Iona didn't want to kill anyone, just get out of the situation.<br/><br/>"Move!" she shouted at Thomyris and continued hosing her pistol back and forth as she kick-squirmed on her back, hoping Thomyris wouldn't step on her.  All she needed to do was keep their heads down until the girl was clear and she herself could roll into the main room and they could escape.<br/><br/>Dust started to fill the back side of the alcove as shard after shard disintegrated, impacts sounding like hard fingernail taps on steel.