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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
 
 
 

Bara Nocta - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Protege moi
Last updated: 07/30/2007 11:36:51 AM

Chapter 8

Reia jumped out of her chair, startled by the alert from her communications console.

She slowly brought her train of thought back to the present as she moved towards her communications console. The night really had been full of such fantastic revelations, especially now with a new world being brought into the Empire. Her roommate’s home world! And her roommate - a spy! From the Majestrix herself!

Despite Remy’s assurances, however, Reia’s best friend had her reservations. And as much as Lai’Nal had to agree with the points Reia raised, there had been some definite unease towards the Terran that seemed to pour out of Lai’s countenance all night long. The way she had questioned Remy had been like an interrogation of sorts! Reia honestly didn’t know what to think.

Remy had been honest with her and Lai’Nal, or at least Reia believed he had been honest. Lai’Nal had been very persistent in voicing the fact that she, for one, wasn’t going to trust anything from the mouth of a spy, sent by the Majestrix or not! Her point, however paranoid it might be, was a valid one. He could have just been feeding them a load of crock, feigning truth, all in the name of fabricating his cover.

Reia sighed as she opened her end of the transmission to accept the call. As much as she couldn’t ignore her friend’s concerns, she liked the guy. He definitely was nice to look at, Shi’ar or not. But besides that, he had a generally amiable something about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Yes, hello?" It was time to find out who would be calling so late.

"Reia," it was Tor’kol. "How are you this evening?"

Her heart started the thud loudly in her chest and she desperately hoped that its sound couldn’t be heard on the other end of the transmission. She sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that this was an audio transmission, only. Reia had never been good at hiding her body language. She was fairly certain she knew why he was calling.

"Oh, I’m alright, thanks, Tor’kol," Reia tried to sound like her normal cheery self without over doing it. "How have you been? You haven’t called in to check on me in a while." She figured she’d make conversation. Perhaps her voice wouldn’t betray her unease that way.

"I know." There was no apology and Reia didn’t expect one from a man like him. "Dai’mon tells me you found a new roommate."

He’s fishing, she thought to herself. Play it smart, Rei. Don’t get yourself into trouble with him.

She bit her lip and her heart took up a faster tempo. "You know how I hate Dai’mon lingering around," she pleaded. Reia tried to sound disappointed and frustrated. It wasn’t hard given the history she had with this particular goon. That and she could use it to try and misdirect him.

Maybe. But his like for your innocence will only get you so far...

"I’ve put him in charge of the surveillance of your apartment complex."

"Oh..." Tor’kol didn’t sound like he was in a good mood. Tonight would not be a good night to test his...soft side. But it didn’t change the fact that she was uncomfortable with Dai’mon being around.

Originally, Tor’kol had ’promised’ to keep Dai’mon away from her. He had not been impressed to learn that she had a stalker all because the first date hadn’t worked out.

"He just gives me the creeps, is all," she said, meekly. Reia knew she’d be testing the waters too much if she protested any further.

"It is necessary, young lady." The words were stated simply. "...especially since you have decided to keep an alien for a roommate."

Why did all the scary men have to be so...insensitive? She didn’t like this arrangement one bit, but unless Dai’mon did something to screw up, she’d have to put up and shut up.

Obviously reading Reia’s resignation, Tor’kol continued. "So, tell me about this Terran."

Shit! Is he onto Remy? What do I say? "Well, he is rather handsome..." She let her voice trail off dreamily. Wrong move, Reia. Supid move. He’s going to filet, you, too, if you’re not careful.

She heard Tor’kol cluck his tongue on the other end. "He isn’t even Shi’ar, Reia."

"Oh, I know, but that doesn’t mean a girl can’t appreciate beauty when she sees it." Would you like a shovel to dig that hole a little deeper, girl?

"Has he mentioned what his purpose here is, exactly?"

Okay, calm down, Reia, calm down. You can answer this one, no problems. "Honestly, I don’t even think he knows." It wasn’t far from the truth. Actually, his answer had been rather vague when she’d asked him, even though he’d been forced to elaborate, tonight.

"Do you know how long he is intending to stay in my domain?"

"No," she sighed, sobering up. "I asked him that earlier on today, but he said he didn’t know." At least honesty wasn’t shedding any important information.

"I see." Reia could envision his fingers curled around his chin. "Chandilar made First Contact with his home world, today. Are you aware of this Reia?"

"Yes. We saw the news broadcast."

"I thought you did not own a media screen."

There was no harm in telling him it was Remy’s new purchase. Besides, this was a test. She knew Tor’kol already knew, but wanted to gauge just how much Reia was going to hide from him. She also knew that should Tor’kol discover she was hiding information from him, she could kiss whatever affection the man had for her goodbye.

"No, it’s not mine." She shook her head, forgetting there was no visual. "Remy came by the store today and picked one up."

"Tell me, how did a man who’s just arrived to this kind of area have that much money to spend?"

"I don’t know, he hasn’t said anything, and I didn’t ask."

"You should have. You should know who is living with you, what he is about, if he is a danger to you, or not."

"I know. I was brash."

"And because you were, I had no choice but to send my men in."

Asshole! She remained silent. Cool it, girl, or you’re going to get yourself in trouble.

"What is the Terran doing now?"

"He’s sleeping."

"How convenient."

"I think he’s space lagged."

"Very well, we will continue this conversation another time."

Reia knew it was pointless to even say goodbye. The click on the other end came faster than she’d have been able to utter any sound.

Great. Just great.

Light shone through the slits in the blinds again as Remy opened his eyes. A sense of déjà-vu seemed to settle over him. This was exactly what he’d woken up to yesterday. He grinned slightly. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, but he was acutely aware of how sore yesterday’s information gathering stint had made him. Remy groaned and rolled onto his side.

He could afford to snooze. Plus, y’ be recuperating, homme. Today was definitely a day for relaxing. Lilandra’s information gathering could wait, and perhaps a day of lying low would do well for him. But on the other hand, with First Contact, not showing his face might make it look like he was hiding.

Why y’ got t’ t’ink so much, hein? Remy let out a small sigh of frustration. He was awake, now.

Merde, getting out o’ bed be jus’ as hard as yesterday. Dismayed, he went over to his belongings, which he had yet to unpack fully, in search of more pain killers. He frowned, noting only a handful of pills at the bottom of the bottle. He was going to run out far too soon.

Heedless of the prescription dilemma, Remy dry swallowed two Tylenol 3’s and marched off to the shower. Perhaps some steam would help soothe his muscles while the Codeine took its time to kick in. Not that he enjoyed the fatigue and grogginess that accompanied a codeine high, but right now, all he was after was pain relief. Besides, being drugged didn’t matter much as he fully intended to go back to bed and rest for the remainder of the day. But frustration seemed to abound. Dis not y’ day, LeBeau.

He found himself looking at what he thought was a faucet and realized he had absolutely no clue as to how to turn it on. Trying desperately to remember the last time he took a shower on Chandilar, Remy examined the device a little more. No, this did not resemble anything he’d seen before.

Trial by fire. Shaking his head, he fiddled with the unit until water started running, and steam vapors could be seen forming. Grâce à dieu!

The water felt good as it ran over his body, the warmth hugging his muscles. Remy wanted to stand under that showerhead forever, but he didn’t know what the cost of water was here so he figured he’d better cut it short and use just enough to get clean. He just had to ignore his muscles screaming at him for more when he turned off the water and reached for his towel.

Remy started to dry himself off when something not quite right caught him off guard. Silently, he wrapped his towel around his waist and stood as still as he could. A shadow crossed the gap at the bottom of the door. It moved quickly and silently.

Why hadn’t he noticed the movement? Remy pushed his powers outward, trying to sense what was out there. His mind screamed at him, as he pushed through the fog from the codeine that was starting to hit him.

There were three men outside the bathroom, waiting. Their stances were ready for action, but Remy couldn’t tell if they were armed or not. They had also stopped moving, which did not help matters, any.

Remy sighed. There was no window in the bathroom. No duct. Just the door. He was effectively trapped. Sighing, Remy looked down at the towel covering the lower half of his body, considering his options.

Y’ better know what y’ doin’. He took one last glance in the mirror before opening the door.

"Hold your hands where we can see them, Terran!"

Remy could hear the whine of energy weapons powering up. Deciding that these men were not here for a friendly heart to heart, he complied, raising his hands up.

"You t’ink y’ could let a man get dressed?"

"Oh look, a wise guy." one goon commented to the other two.

"Alright, then, move it," another said, motioning for Remy to start walking. As he complied he shoved the muzzle of his weapon in the small of Remy’s back.

Dis really ain’t y’ day. Groggily, the usually graceful thief made an effort to put one assured foot in front of the other. The painkillers were really starting to kick in now, not aided by his body’s physical fatigue.

"Hurry up." The goon followed Remy into the room. Apparently, he would not be given the decency of dressing in privacy. He didn’t complain, however. Instead, he grabbed his clothes and turned his back towards the accompanying guard. Every nerve in his body screamed at him, urging him to sit down on the bed while doing this, but he didn’t want to show any weakness.

"You’re done." It was more like a command than an observation, so Remy started to move toward the door.

He didn’t quite make it to the threshold when the two other men entered. The butt of an energy rifle made contact with Remy’s gut.

"Ungh." Remy’s torso burned with pain and he hunched over a bit, but he was able to stay on his feet.

Either I be getting’ slow, or dese hommes be fast.

Before he could regain his composure, the rifle hit him squarely between the shoulder blades, effectively knocking him too the ground.

"Get up," one spat. "Tor’kol does not like to be kept waiting."

Rather than letting Remy get up on his own accord, two strong arms grabbed him under the armpits hauling him to his feet, while the third goon bound his hands behind him and covered his head with a cloth bag. The smell of mothballs assaulted his senses and Remy made a face, disgusted. The pain in his gut combined with the smell was making him incredibly nauseous.

Oh, c’mon, knock me out! You know you wan’ to, he pleaded silently. His injuries were now pounding from the assault, causing him to see stars. Trying to walk was now an incredibly difficult feat. Mebe y’ should jus’ pass out, LeBeau.

As if God was listening, Remy’s world went blank.

"Good, you’re awake."

I’m really beginnin’ t’ hate wakin’ up.

At least de drug’s ain’ out o’ y’ system, yet. Y’ haven’t been out dat long. He tried to clear his head from the codeine he’d ingested earlier. Remy needed to figure out a way to manipulate the situation to his favour.

However, that was probably not going to be an easy feat. Remy was securely fastened to a plain metal chair. His hands were in manacles behind his back, and there was some sort of collar fastened to his neck, attached to a chain leading to somewhere. He could still move his head and his upper body, at least. His legs were bound together and he could feel sturdy restraints across much of his lap. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Y’ powers are still active... But Remy quickly tucked away thoughts of using his powers. They would cause destruction to this room. Given the way he was bound, he might also harm himself.

Studying his surroundings, Remy found himself in a rather barren, gray room. He noted the floor to be concrete. The whole foundation was probably constructed of concrete. The walls had been panelled with a metal he did not recognize. To the right of him there was an ordinary table with two just as ordinary chairs. A goon stood behind the table, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. To his left - nothing. No windows, no ventilation ducts that he could see. There was no escape route, save for the door directly ahead of him, but that passage was blocked by the same gauntly framed man he’d seen in the restaurant his first day on Chandilar. The man, Remy remarked, dressed impeccably. He sipped some sort of beverage, as if he were in some sort of civilized parlour gathering between wealthy gentlemen.

All he needs now is a cigar.

The other man’s gaze locked onto Remy’s figure. His composure spoke of authority, and Remy was now certain that this was the Morat’lan leader, Tor’kol.

"Let me make one thing clear, Terran. I do not tolerate games. You can make this as painful or as painless as you want it to be." Tor’kol stripped off his jacket, handed it to the goon near the table, and proceeded to roll up his sleeves.

The other man’s words rang as if they’d been said through a megaphone right by his ear. Oh great, y’ got a headache now, too. However, Remy knew it was probably just part of the mental congestion the Tylenol 3’s were providing. Dis gon’ be fun.

Remy decided to nod, once.

"Who are you?" The question was simple enough.

"Name’s Remy."

"Do you know who I am?"

"I ’ave a fair idea."

"Do you, now?"

But Remy decided not to dignify him with a response.

"Why are you in my domain?"

"I ’aven’t really figured dat out yet." His answer earned Remy a slap across the face.

Merde.

"I’ll ask you one more time, why are you here?"

"It seemed like a good idea at de time. Now, I’m not so sure." This time, Remy felt Tor’kol’s fist meet his gut. Remy’s previous injuries screamed with pain. He hunched over in an effort to lessen the growing discomfort in his midsection. There was the distinct taste of bile in his mouth. The response, he feared was more than it should have been. Would it give away a weakness? Remy was sure Tor’kol noticed, but the Shi’ar made no indication that he had.

"You think you’re funny?"

"Non." He was barely able to force enough air out of his lungs to give sound to the word.

But, before Tor’kol could continue with his ’questioning,’ he was distracted by the man who had been standing by the table. But the goon was making his way towards Tor’kol, touching his ear and nodding. Remy assumed he was using some sort of communications system. He silently cursed himself, as he had completely forgotten the man was there.

"My Lord, General Arkaan is here to see you."

There was an undoubtedly annoyed look on Tor’kol’s face. "Very well, you may tell the General that I will be there in a few moments."

"Yes, My Lord." The goon paused, perhaps deciding if it was wise to say anything more, but in the end, he opened his mouth again. "However, I did not get the impression he is willing to wait."

Tor’kol moved away from Remy, and smoothed out the crinkles in his sleeves formed during his questioning. He reached out an expectant hand and the goon placed his jacket in it. Instead of donning it, he simply draped it over his arm. Then Tor’kol rotated his neck eliciting three loud cracks. The sound made Remy cringe.

The door opened to reveal a formidable looking Shi’ar standing on the other side of the threshold. It was obviously the General; Remy could tell by his dress and military paraphernalia. A wave of panic overcame Remy when the Arkaan’s eyes settled upon him and narrowed.

I know dat face...but from where?

However, Tor’kol closed the door behind him, and Remy was unable to study the other figure further. Instead, Remy closed his eyes and tried to listen to the conversation going on outside the room.

Must be soundproof.

His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, the foremost being that his cover was probably about to be blown. If he recognized the General, chances were, Arkaan recognized him. But what was Arkaan doing here? And why was he associating with Tor’kol? Surely he didn’t have any authority here; this was Tor’kol’s territory where the military feared to tread.

Wait, Tor’kol complied with Arkaan’s summons...

Remy closed his eyes again, wincing. He couldn’t seem to focus enough to put any sort of coherent theory together. The pain in his torso was making him nauseas, and the Tylenol 3 now seemed completely inadequate for pain control, though the codeine buzz was ever present. Unconsciousness seemed to tug at him, urging him to slip into the painless black, again.

Ungh.

Tor’kol slapped Remy across the face with the back of his hand, forcing Remy to arch his neck back. Now his head and his gut were throbbing, and the world seemed as if it were floating. Then, Tor’kol grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull Remy close to him, jolting Remy into alertness. Tor’kol’s face was so close that Remy could feel the heat of Tor’kol’s breath. He fought desperately not to turn his head away.

"One more time, tell me what you’re doing in my domain, X-Man!" The words were laced with vehemence, but Tor’kol’s voice was not raised.

A hard knot formed in Remy’s stomach. X-Man? Le bon Dieu, aidez-moi!

"M’ not an X-Man."

Again, Tor’kol struck Remy’s midsection.

Fils de poutin!

The impact forced the air from Remy’s diaphragm and he desperately wish he could curl into a ball. He succumbed to a fit of coughing in efforts to get his breath back.

Tor’kol was right in Remy’s face again, re-establishing his hold on Remy’s shirt. "I have it on good authority you are."

"Was. ’M not, anymore," he choked out.

"Was?" The answer had obviously taken Tor’kol offguard, as the grip on Remy’s shirt lessened a little and Tor’kol put a little distance between them. Perhaps he had expected Remy to deny it outright.

"What do you mean ’was?’"

Wish I knew! But he was improvising, and improvisation said to fall back on old roots.

He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible with his wrist bound behind him. "Turned out I’m not X-Men material, is all."

"Do not sass me, Terran." It was a warning, but Tor’kol’s body language told Remy that he had his attention as he fully released his hold on Remy’s shirt.

"Look, de X-Men is full of idealistic law abiding crime fighters. Dey have dis delusion dat their ethics are de only way. I didn’t exactly fit in. It got me not’in’ but heat from most o’ dem, so I split. Was tired o’ bein’ treated like shit."

"And just why, exactly, did you not fit in?"

Aha, I got him. "Dey don’t approve o’ my profession."

"Don’t dance around the point."

Remy sighed. "I’m a professional thief. They didn’t like dat I wouldn’t give it up t’ be and X-Man." He tried to feign a scoff. "Don’t think dey miss me much."

"Why did you come here?"

"Why not?"

"You’re walking a thin line..." Remy could see him bringing his arm back, getting ready to strike.

However, Remy couldn’t help but grin. He’d gotten under this man’s skin and for whatever reason he found satisfaction in it.

"I’m serious. Why not? It’s a new start in a new place where no one knows me."

"There’s a Northern Hemisphere which you will find much more comfortable." Tor’kol relaxed his arm.

Remy frowned, giving Tor’kol a tired look. "I’m on de outs wit’ de X-Men. De X-Men are Chandilar’s allies, not me." He shook his head. "Don’t know dat I would be welcome up dere."

Tor’kol raised a speculative brow at Remy. "You expect me to believe this from a man who buried our dead?"

Merde! Dat’s where I know dat man from! The realisation hit Remy in a flood. The night after their victory over the Phalanx, when everyone else was celebrating, it was General Arkaan who had found Remy burying the Shi’ar dead. Tor’kol had effectively taken back the upper hand. Dis gon’ get hairy unless you’re willin’ t’ open up, LeBeau.

"I made some mistakes a while back," he admitted. "I thought it might serve as some sort o’ penance."

"And...?"

He turned his head away. "I was wrong."

It was obvious that Tor’kol wasn’t quite sure of what to do with this revelation. He stood back and ruffled a hand through his feathers, giving Remy an appraising look. As if remembering he had a drink started, Tor’kol sought it out and took the last swigs of it in one gulp.

After several long moments of silence, Tor’kol finally spoke.

"It seems, Terran, there is more to you than I thought."

What de hell is dat supposed t’ mean? But Remy didn’t voice that thought.

"A thief, you say?"

Remy simply nodded his head. He was out of energy and didn’t feel like talking unless he had to.

"How familiar are you with Shi’ar security systems?"

"Fairly..." Remy raised his head slightly to look up at the man. "Why?"

Tor’kol moved behind Remy’s chair and began to release Remy from his binds. "I am in need of a thief."

Remy’s curiosity was piqued. And as exhausted as his body was, he couldn’t help but give a devilish grin.

"Y’ don’t say."

 

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