The Round Table - Part 3

Sleep gently, fair Dreamers, for tonight the Haze comes strongly. We see a round table, bolted to the floor in a nondescript room, where two hooded Lashunta stare at a brown-skinned, muscular soldier from across the table, adjacent to a Barathu covered in symbols and spikes. A Confluence Agent. Lashunta #1: “Enough chatter, gentleman. We know that the Consortium is looking for the companion of our target. And we know that Mr. Altraeza has a personal squabble to resolve with their ship captain. We propose an alliance.”
Dominic: “You mean you want me to do your fucking dirty work for you.”
Lashunta #1: “If you have doubts-”
Dominic: “Ah. Ah. I didn’t say no. You mean that Tesin girl, right? That Lashunta woman with the black sword.”
Lashunta #1: “Precisely. We want her dead, along with any other member of Mining Team 6 that you can manage. We understand that Isra must be taken alive, but will pay as long as she’s out of our area of operation.”
The Barathu next to Dominic Altraeza speaks, but the voice does not belong to the creature. It is deep and gravely - the voice of Corporal Taxxus, the Vesk servitor that rules over the mantle of the Forge.
Taxxus: “What is your offer?”
Lashunta #1: “10,000 credits per head. We want them delivered physically. No photos. We will pay you for Isra once she has left the Pact Worlds.”
Dominic grunts, and looks to the Barathu. It merely inclines its head, as if confirming some telepathic communication.
Dominic: “Me and my riders will take the job. Any details?”
Lashunta #1: “There is another target present on Mataras. An ex-agent of ours that fled to the sun. Her name is Shalema. We believe that she is about to… complicate matters in the Archipelago.”
After a gesture from the speaking Lashunta, the second Project 9 agent slides a file across the table, with a picture of Shalema paperclipped to the front. Dominic looks through the file briefly, and then whistles.
Dominic: “This’ll be a tough bitch to pop. I assume you’ll make it worth my while?”
Lashunta #1: “We will give you fifty thousand credits for her head, and an extra twenty-five thousand if you bring the brain intact. Is this sufficient?”
Dominic: “Deal.”
Lashunta #1: “The Aga Jain left for the sun an hour ago. Haste is of the essence. When do you leave?”
Dominic smiles, and picks up a white sniper rifle from the shadows beside his chair. The Barathu floats up from its place at the table, and begins to drift out of the room.
Dominic: “Right fucking now. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
Dominic turns on a heel and walks out the room, slamming the door behind him, and the first dream shatters.