"We want it to be very friendly." Grix bares his mandibles at the vesk who spoke, in imitation of the way humans smile. As an unnatural gesture from a shirren, it comes off as a little weird.
Regardless, he takes out his semi-auto pistol and sets it next to Mama on the counter.
"Please don't sell that while I'm gone" he whispers to Mama. "Lots of memories in that one."
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"What I was saying, Spectre, is that accusing the nice halfling lady of betrayal without any evidence was rude, especially since we're trying to make nice with the gang she does business with and she can put in a good word for us," Arcalinte says with a sigh.
"Sorry, Mama."
Arcalinte props his pike up by the counter and places his starknife on the counter, smiling to himself a little knowing if this turns ugly, it'd be back in his hand in an instant.
Then he turns to the vesk and gestures to his mote.
"Don't be alarmed, I'm just going to demonstrate that this isn't a weapon."
He closes his eyes, and his mote moves over his head, before sending down a beam of light that suffuses Arcalinte's form and coalesces into glittering golden plates above his second skin, including a pair of decorative, wing-shaped pieces that rise from his shoulders, forming a semicircle above his head.
He lowers his arms and opens his eyes, now glowing the same color as his solar armor.
"Impressive, no?"
Perhaps reluctantly and with some encouragement, Spectre eventually relinquishes his weapons. Mama watches everyone as they hand their weapons over for storage but doesn't seem too concerned with thoroughness. The vesk, on the other hand, is a different story and holds out a meaty, scaled hand towards Ted. "The pistol. Now."
While things with Ted are sorted out, everyone else, including Eekz, is allowed into the backroom as they are followed by the two men who came in through the front door.
Waiting in the room at a makeshift desk of crates and pallets sits an ysoki with a cybernetic eye, as red as his real one. A purple cape is draped over green and black secondskin armor. He watches you all file in, notices one of your company is delayed on the other side of the door, and arches a brow in silent question to one of his men. "Tried to keep a weapon."
The ysoki frowns, then flicks a hand at the door, which the gangmember closes, shutting Ted out on the other side.
"So... You come asking for the Level 21 Crew, threaten my folks, try to smuggle a weapon into a meeting... Am I missing anything? Oh, yes... shot and killed one of my men in the docks." His nostrils flare as he tries to keep his anger on a leash. "Tell me why I don't shoot you now?"
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Arcalinte rolls his eyes at Ted's attempt to smuggle a gun into the meeting, but when their leader addresses them, he snaps to attention.
"Because you're a business man and this is a business deal. You know that there could be some profit in hearing us out, which is why you decided to meet us here at the bodega in the first place instead of having the Crew ambush us while we were still sniffing around. Even if the source of that profit is just not having to divert resources to deal with two sets of enemies, us and the Kings, instead of just having to deal with the Kings alone."
Grix smoothly follows up from Arc's statement with "Not that we're your enemies! Oh no. Not at all." He clasps his claws together, the picture of shirren innocence. "Your man being khilled was a tragikh akhcident. We thought he was there to ambush us and that your men were there to khill our employer.Who, I will mention, WAS akhtually khilled by either the Khrew or the Downside Khings. We just tried to defend ourselves. That's all it was. No ill intent. None."
"We know you're dealing with the Khings right now, and what we want to talkh about might help you with that."
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Arcalinte folds his hands to emphasize his words.
"While 'contact' is perhaps more accurate than employer, Grix has the right of it. We found ourselves caught in the crossfire between your men and the Kings, and we hastily sought to defend ourselves before we realized what was going on. We sincerely apologize for your man's death, both personally and on behalf of the Starfinder Society."
"Eekz say the same... no kill on purpose. Self-defense! Still, we can help you maybe."
The lens aperture on the ysoki's cybernetic eye twirls until it is nearly shut, then retracts slightly. It is not a comforting motion.
"Self-defense?" he says, incredulous. "MY MEN WERE THERE TO PROTECT DURAVOR! He was a FRIEND!!!" That such a tiny fist could make such a resonant sound as it slams down on the desk is surprising. His men would take a half-step back if they could but, as they're already back-against-the-door, their hands come to rest on their sidearms.
One of the ysoki's ears twitches for a moment before he forces himself to take a deep breath. "You're either the most incompetent liars I've ever encountered or a greatest bunch of fools." His gaze swivels to the 'droid' and he growls, "If you start blabbering about being incapable of telling a lie, I swear to Weydan, I'll kill all of you."
He slumps back into a thread-bare chair and crosses his arms, scowling. "I've no use for fools and less for liars. Why would I want your help?"
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Arcalinte blinks in surprise at the leader's anger. He was clearly a man you needed to respect, and maybe even fear a little.
"And there was no way we could have known that when we didn't know who you and the Kings were, or see where the shot came from that ended Duravor's life. We're here on behalf of Chiskisk, another friend of Duravor's, and we want to make the bastards that shot him pay. Our goals are aligned, so why turn away a willing group of patsies who are happy to take the Kings' shots so no more of your boys have to? And wouldn't it be nice to have a favor from the Starfinders in your pocket? We want to make this right. What do we have to do to prove ourselves to you?"
All this talk of lies and fools leaves Grix wary. He watches the ysoki and tries to gauge if he's being honest or if he's trying to hide something.
"Me get your anger, but it be misgui... mista... misunderstanding! yes that right word... we share same goal... like he said... make them pay!"
==In the Bodega==
The halfling puts her own pistol back behind the counter and smiles at Ted as if nothing unusual just happened. "Every day for, oh, twenty years. Living in the Spike may not be glamorous, but I like it. There's an authenticity to the grit. What about you, lad?"
Behind Ted, the vesk crosses his arms and stands in front of the door while his human compatriot stands with his arms at the side.
==In the Back Room==
Grix doesn't sense any deception in the ysoki and the anger seems genuine.
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Spectre listens to the banter.
"Though my programming allows for, and even encourages deception in the pursuit of credits, this rag-tag band of would-be Starfinders speak the truth. We emerged from our transport and our contact was shot before our optical circuits. This has created all kinds of trouble for my master."
He turns back to the group.
"And for me, I might add."
Grix steps back in alarm as Arc volunteers the group for fighting the Downside Kings. He raises his claws and follows Arc's offer before the ysoki can accept it "I wouldn't say we're willing to get shot by the Khings just to makhe things up to you. If that's what's needed, you might as well shoot us right here and spare us the trouble of takhing the elevator." Grix rasps out a laugh before saying more seriously "You shouldn't though."
"If Duravor was a friend of yours, we're on the same side. You must be lookhing to ekhstrakht justice for your friend, just as we're lookhing to find who is responsible and why. And since we're new on the Station, we might be able to go places and ask questions to people that your khrew khan not. Do the leg workh, you khould say. And you know things about the situation that the Society would likhe to know. We khan help each other."
==In the Backroom==
The ysoki's eyes, real and cybernetic, stare at each of you in turn as you speak, a single clawed finger tapping in a slow cadence on his desk as he listens. When you're done, he swivels in his chair to look at an old, cracked monitor that cycles a series of pastoral images from another planet. He takes a moment, then turns back to you.
"I think you're telling the truth, or at least as best you know it." His two henchmen seem to relax slightly at this news, hands slipping off the grips of their pistols. "But that doesn't mean I trust you, either. I'm not exactly sure how being friends with the Starfinder Society does me any good either, even if you have the kind of pull you're implying. We have a hardscrabble life down here in the Spike, and folks like you have never much deigned to help, so... forgive me if I don't put much faith in your promises as to future relationships." His cynical tone suggests he clearly doesn't expect you to forgive him and he doesn't care.
"But... if you want to run at the Downside Kings, I can't see how that's a problem for me. Either you kill them, or, well..." He grins and opens his hands wide in a 'things happen'-gesture.
"The Kings hangout is a nightclub called the Fusion Queen, it's further down in the Spike but you won't have any trouble finding it. Careful, though... it's lousy with enforcers, and their current boss has a nasty vesk bodyguard."
==Out front==
Mama can't help but chuckle at Ted's question. Before she answers, she says, "You want something to drink while you wait?" If so, she serves him as he likes while answering. "Oh, they know enough to not give this old hand any guff, don't they, Nargo?"
The vesk's laugh is like an avalanche as he replies, "You know we love you, Mama." She grins and winks at the vesk in approval.
"Like I said, we're on our own down here. None of you top-dwellers seem to care much, so we watch out for one another. Only ones who find trouble are those who make it for themselves." Her gaze flicks slightly to Ted's pistol before she grins at him.
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Spectre processes the information the ysoki has provided.
"This provides us with a viable lead. While we are negotiating, perhaps we could come to an understanding regarding our dealing with the Kings. Should their territory be reduced by any leadership reductions, perhaps your territory could be expanded. In that event, we might come to a deal regarding an ongoing relationship. My master is always on the lookout for underworld contacts."
Grix notices that his protestations were not listened to by the ysoki, and almost moves to correct him before thinking better of it. Instead he telepathically messages each of his allies in the room.
'We're not REALLY going to go and have a shootout with the Downside Kings are we? Maybe we can check this Fusion Queen out, but Besmara knows I'm not ready to die just because some fluffball thinks it'd be amusing.'
In response to the ysoki, Grix says "Maybe we'll chekh it out. Do you know why the Khings would go after Duravor? Just for the khredits that Astral Ekhstractions is forkhing over?"
The ysoki tips his head to the side in a gesture of... curiosity? Bafflement? He then starts to laugh. It does not last overlong and he replies, "My story? You want me to, what, read tea leaves on the motivations of the Kings?" He chuckles slightly, hands on his belly as he leans back and considers how to respond. After a moment, he seems to have reached a decision.
"You must be Starfinders, truly, for only they could be so arrogant. I'm not asking you for help. You have come to me..." He lets that dangle a moment before continuing (and interrupting, if necessary). "As I said, Duravor was a friend. At the risk of overstating it, let me be clear... we have mutual sympathies with the Hardscabble Collective. I don't care too much what happens one way or the other as to the ship floating out there, nor the asteroid, but the Collective hires us to help out on occasion. They got word Duravor was in danger, hired us to help and... well..." He shrugs.
"You saw first hand how it turned out. We likely won't be getting any more business from the Collective, but I don't fancy the idea of the folks who killed him getting away with it... And to stop you before you start, no, I'm not putting my neck or any of my men's on the line for it. We weren't paid for that... But that doesn't mean I wouldn't mind seeing the King's spaced for it, either."
Grix raises his claws defensively at the sometimes angry, sometimes amused bluster of the ysoki.
"If you don't know, you don't. I thought we'd askh, in khase there was something we're missing. And is lookhs like we might be. Sorry to takhe up your time."
Grix clicks his claws together as he thinks, then sends a telepathic message to his allies. 'This little puffball has more bluster than most pirate captains I've met. Unlike most of them, he hasn't shot one of us yet. Great luck for us! If we believe him, he doesn't really know much. He took the Collective's money and then really mucked up the work. If anyone knows why Duravor was targeted, its either the Kings or the Collective. Or maybe Astral Extractions, though that corp will be tighter than a pod of barathu if they're guilty of hiring the Kings to off Duravor.'
The ysoki grunts in acknowledgment to Grix before answering Spectre. "The Collective wasn't clear. They just said they'd been tipped off Duravor was in danger." He shrugs. "Clearly, they were right."
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Ted sips his drink and makes small talk. He keeps eyeing the door and listening for trouble. He didn't want to appear jumpy, but what was taking them so long?
Out of boredom and nerves, he whispers a Token Spell to his top as it spins on the table. It begins to flash colors and sparks, leaving a trail of symbols as it rotates around the table.
"See Collect if now? Find out what they knowed and how they knowed it."
The ysoki makes a noncommittal gesture. "Stop killing my men; that would be a start. But... yeah, maybe, we'll see. As for finding the Collective, good luck. There's no real central leadership and they mostly live off their ships."
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Arcalinte nods, both at the ysoki's words and Grix's telepathic message. He figured he'd done enough damage with his clumsily-chosen words. He kind of resented this ratfolk's attitude, but he figured maybe he respected an older, galaxy-wiser voice like Grix's, or the cold, blunt honesty of Spectre.
He waits for the others to take the lead out to indicate the meeting was over.
"Alright, we'll get out of your way then." Grix takes a couple of steps towards the door before his antennae waggle back towards Jabaxa. "We *khould* use more than lukh to find the Khollekhtive... You've workhed for them before. That means you've got some way to talkh to them when you need to. If you share that with us, we might be able to help them against Astral Ekhstrakhtions. You know, the khorp trying to khrush them?" Grix is betting on the Level 21 Crew caring more about the fate of the Collective than Jabaxa's tough-guy attitude is betraying.
If Jabaxa refrains from sharing any further details, Grix heads on out to rejoin Ted.
Sadly, the Starfinders' diplomatic efforts just have not made much of an impression on the gangleader. He shakes his head, "Maybe if and when I have reason to trust you. Not until then." He looks at one of the guards and waves a hand at the door; one of the thugs opens the door while the other steps aside.
Out in the bodega, Mama Fats glances over at the door when it opens then winks at Ted. "Looks like your friends are alive. That's good. I kind of like you guys."
The halfling chuckles at the droid's sulking tone. "Oh, don't worry, Gears. I wouldn't have sold your guns for at least another five minutes." She reaches under the counter and begins slapping your weapons onto the surface before poking her head up once more with a smile. To Eekz, she says, "Don't forget your beer!"
Eekz grabs his weaponry, and a beer, and drinks... nibbles at the edge of the mug, but doesn't leave teeth marks in it... though he does grumble softly "hungry too... " He grabs a handful of pretzels or beer nuts if there are any.
"Not members... ratman chief not like us much."
Grix picks up his pistol and slips it back into its holster. "Not members, but not dead! Besmara blesses." He waves a claw at Mama in farewell and strolls out of the bodega.
"That ysoki was a stubborn fluffer. Made it sound likhe the Khollective is a group of drift ghosts... that its going to be a pain to find them. But khan't hurt to try" He stretches out his spine "Real pain. The fluffer didn't have anything to lose from telling. Just wanted to stikh one to us."
Grix checks the local infosphere for any info on the Hardscrabble Collective first, and then unless the group has anything else to ask here, he suggests they go up a few levels and start asking around.
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Arcalinte joins the others in leaving, and as he emerges, he closes his eyes and his starknife on Mama Fats' counter vanishes in a flash of bright light before appearing in another bright flash in his hand. He was disappointed, but glad he didn't have to pull that trick to fight Jabaxa.
Then he walks over to the counter to retrieve his pike.
"Thank you for keeping an eye on our things, Mama."
As the others leave, he comments.
"I don't think "infiltration" was ever going to be an option with these guys, Spectre. Though I think we made a better impression on the members than we did on their leader."
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Spectre looks at Arcalinte, his circuits processing a reply.
"I am not sure why you would want to argue semantics with me. I am proficient in the common tongue. But one of my primary functions is to establish underworld contacts in order to earn credits, illicit or otherwise. But perhaps they will work with us in the future."
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Spectre looks at Arcalinte, his circuits processing a reply.
"I am not sure why you would want to argue semantics with me. I am proficient in the common tongue. But one of my primary functions is to establish underworld contacts in order to earn credits, illicit or otherwise. But perhaps they will work with us in the future."
Arcalinte pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I'm NOT arguing with you. I just find your priorities weird. If your major goal is getting good with the Station's criminal element, why even bother with the Starfinder Society? I know you've got programming and stuff, but at this point don't you basically have the autonomy to make your own decisions? Why stick with us when you don't seem to like us very much?"
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Spectre hesitates for a moment as if processing a response.
"You are correct in your assessment that I do not like you," Spectre says. "Liking things is not a function of my programming."
He raises one of his arms and points.
"As to why I have joined the Starfinder Society, it is because it is one of my primary functions. I do not care whether you find my programming 'weird.' You would be surprised how little I care what you think. My master considers it optimal that I join. I do not find that incompatible with my other primary function of earning credits through criminal endeavors."