Excerpt: Going to Pieces

From a distance he looked scrawny enough to be snapped in two by a strong breeze. He knew it, too, but he also knew that every piece of meat on his bones was pure muscle: he constantly made sure of that. For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out why he kept getting these assignments: each one of them was with a group that measured a person's worth by his physical strength, and he was constantly getting into hand-to-hand fights to prove his mettle against those who sought to take advantage of him and his less-than-intimidating appearance. Even in this day and age of bacta, he had the scars and kinked nose to prove it.

Silon Huntret pulled a datapad from one of the many pockets on his worn spacer's outfit and slid it across the table. Though he didn't show it, that cracked rib still smarted, and he hoped Petrivic wouldn't decide to get belligerent again and try to start something to change the terms of the agreement. Again. "There. Two-thirds of our agreed-upon amount," he said to Petrivic. "You'll see it's been transferred to the account you specified and is ready to be withdrawn by you at any time."

Petrivic scowled as he snatched the datapad to look at its display. "I'm still not happy with this. Why should I risk my people's life and limb for your little mission without even having the full amount in hand?"

"Because I don't trust you," Huntret said simply. "You'll get the remainder after the mission is complete. Just like we agreed to. Count yourself lucky that you're getting two-thirds up front instead of the customary half. I can take my money and go elsewhere, and find another group that is more open to customary terms."

Huntret and Petrivic entered a hard staredown. Huntret had already learned from the previous ones that Petrivic couldn't go longer than 25 seconds without blinking due to his eyes' sensitivity to the dust and dirt in this room, and Huntret had won every match with ease. The leftover swelling from his subsiding black eye didn't even hinder him this time either.

"Fine," Petrivic finally muttered. He turned to his second-in-command and told him to go withdraw the credits, then he looked back at Huntret. "But I'll have two of my guys with you until we get back to make sure you don't skip out on us."

Huntret rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already! I told you, I'll be in a transport at the edge of the system to make sure you actually perform the mission. I don't want you skipping out on me either."

"We won't, damn it. Then my two guys will be on the ship with you. If they don't tell me they are before we start, we call off the mission."

"I can't believe you're making such a big deal about this. I figured you guys would be loving this job. You normally do it for free anyway, so what's with all the bullying and chest-thumping and bristled fur when you have the chance to get paid for it upfront?"

Petrivic didn't answer specifically, though he proceeded to say a few choice words about Huntret's lineage and recommended a few activities for him. Then the pirate leader continued, "Get out of here, Huntret. We've got to get ready to go on your damned mission."

"Good. I'll meet you at the hangar at 1100 hours." Huntret stood and casually walked out after a sweeping glance around the room at the couple other people present assured him that none were in a position to whip out a blaster and shoot him in the back. He made his way through the Force Plague Pirates' small lunar base and back to his transport. He needed to get ready as well.