Fiction Activity Overview

Eyes awoke to a white room, yet felt too crusted and heavy to keep open. Sleep took him once again.

The second time waking was more energized. To the right was an IV directly hooked to his forearm. A heartrate monitor beeped to his left. There was a medical droid with a food tray.

"Starch carbs and fowl protein," it said leaving the tray and putting on its display screen across where a face would be a digitally pixelated pattern of a smile beneath two eyes. It then rolled away on a wheel where legs would normally go.

Creon tried to sit up but winced at the sudden jolt down his spine and across his back. He slumped back into the bed and felt out the rest of his body. The stiffness of his movements and hazyness of his mind suggested dehydration despite the IV. His limbs hurt as if they were sore and heavy when he tried to move them.

Thinking back, his memory which led to these circumstances were unclear. In fact, thinking back to anything recent brought a migraine. Instead he reoriented his focus to the current situation at hand, and where to go from here. Throughout his thinking the stillness of his recovering body and planning sleep took him once more.

A droid with a feminine toned voice spake and woke Creon, "CK-12097, your support has expired. I must ask that you leave the premises."

Creon groaned from the cut-off of his sleeping. *Do they not have the courtesy to value the delicate undisturbed length of sleep proportion to recovery rate?*

He tried to move, and his limbs still felt heavy. The IV and heart rate monitor was being removed.

"I have insurance," Creon said.

"We know. There is a policy in which the cause of your hospitalization is divided into specific credit limits, and it has been fully spent from your account," the protocol droid answered.

"So when they say 'Full Coverage' it's a bunch of bantha fodder," Creon cursed.

He was able to sit up again, but his lower back felt like it was made of caked soot. "Well, has there been any other untreated diagnosis apart from the covered injury."

"Quite... In fact you are in a terminal state with approximately a few days left to live."

Creon sunk back into the bed and stared up at the white ceiling. His whole life had sunk in.

"What's killing me?"

"Cancer"

"We have cures for that."

"Not for you. Your midichlorian count is too high, they reject the compound."

"Surgically?"

"You can't afford it."

"Seriously?!"

"Your insurance coverage policy for-"

"Oh can it, clanker! What's the number for the surgery?"

The droid said a cost amount that made Creon's jaw drop. It took ever asset he owned and help from clan mates to pay. The surgery took place and in the end he was cured, but a looming fury was seeded into Creon's mind. A dark temptation of vengeance beguiled the desire to strip the lives of those who denied the insurance he invested upon. He paid more into what never followed through with the promised deal. Someday, when he is at a higher place, perhaps the power of wrath will find its way to the company that betrayed him.

Phaelor's first experience with a market festival.

Saga Drinking Hall
Hector Von Ricmore

Respect was an important part of negotiation. People in social interactions liked to know that they were being taken seriously. That their voice, ideas, and presence mattered. A key part of respect was punctuality. Arriving on time showed that one had respect for the schedules and routines of other beings.

His contact was an hour late.

This meeting was off to a fantastic start.

Hector Von Ricmore could afford to leave and blow off the contract entirely. He had paid his dues, working as a bounty hunter and mercenary for Clan Vizsla for years. He had seen horrors beyond what he could have comprehended a few scant years ago. He had embarked on many adventures and greatly enriched himself doing so.

But something kept the serpentine figure from storming out in frustration.

Perhaps it was the hope for a new experience. Something enjoyable and profitable in equal measure.

Perhaps it was the concept of reputation. Hector’s could certainly survive if he left the contract holder waiting. It would serve the sentient right for his failed punctionality. But it was an unnecessary hit to the Serpent’s reputation all the same. Especially when he had time to waste in the meeting hall.

Saga was a drinking hall. And that was something he was capable of doing.

He had begun with indulging in a single fluorescent deathstick. The opioid did wonders to numb not only past injuries, but to weaken his connection to the Force. Quieting the mental screams from the non stop conflict across the galaxy was something that he appreciated doing from time to time. And it allowed for indulging in Saga’s namesake without the Force to easily filter the liquids consumed.

Next had been the consumption of two glasses of Corellian whisky on the rocks, with a bit of Meiloorun bitters.

After that he had been content to wait for his contact, who still had yet to so much as send a message containing the information that he would be late.

Taking out a data pad, he inserted a pair of small headphones into his ears. They soon filled with the sound of music; a rock ballad of the courage employed by the mythical Lord Hoth and his Army of Light.

Hector read over the data pad. Shipping manifests for the last month were checked and re-checked. Purchases approved and reviewed. He then moved on to matters of mentorship. His new recruits to the Brotherhood had hit the ground running; they were already making a name for themselves in the Grand Masters Royal Guard. They always needed more capable individuals in that department; so it was a pleasing report to read.

His contact still had not arrived.

The situation had become irritating. Three hours late without so much as a message was far more than a social faux pas. But the opportunity was too good to pass up. And he could wait a few more hours yet.

Grumbling to himself about the frustrating situation; Hector vowed to make a trip to his bath-house after this was all over. He would need to de-stress from such an aggravating meeting.