Sheloran sat at the kitchen table of the farmhouse where she was staying and glared at an incredibly well-dressed Threen smiling up at her from a small holoprojector beside a bowl of fresh fruit.

She was not happy. Neither of her was.

Who is this jerkface? an annoyed voice grumbled from deep within her consciousness.

How the poop should I know? she thought back with annoyance. And aren’t you supposed to be slumbering or some poop like that?

I’ll slumber later, her alter ego replied dismissively, after we leave this paradise… which we do NOT have to leave, by the way. Let’s just tell this skid mark to get flushed and go smooch on Dwight some more.

That would be nice… Sheloran thought in reply.

Yeah, it would! We can just…

Hush, Sheloran silently chided, the jerkface is talking.

“I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to finally have an opportunity to speak with you!” Evoron said cheerfully.

“Why?” Sheloran replied dubiously. “Why would a member of the Threen mafia want to speak with me.”

Evoron flared his nostrils and let loose a quiet snort, their equivalent of a sigh.

“Unfortunately, you and most of the galaxy at large aren’t familiar with the actual Threen mob families that run J’katha.”

“J’katha?”

“The actual name for our homeworld,” Evoron replied, “Before our downfall at the hands of the Federation.”

“Oh, you are one of those people,” Sheloran said with a magnificent Plath eye-roll. (They can get some rotation on those huge things.)

“One of those?”

“Yeah, one of those who like to blame all their problems on someone else instead of the fact that their scum pit of a planet is, I don’t know, ruled by the pooping mob? Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of the Federation or the Republic, for that matter. I’ve never been to the Empire, but I’m pretty sure they suck, too. They are all rancid ditch water, but they are nowhere near as bad as you buttheads.”

Evoron smiled a toothy smile. He wasn’t trying to intimidate. He was just so thoroughly amused that he forgot to keep the fangs covered.

Sheloran responded with a polite and demure Plath smile… while allowing her eyes to turn entirely black, causing Evoron to blink uncomfortably.

“I would have thought that you were a kindred spirit,” he replied evenly, “considering the material that I obtained from your smugglers.”

“I used to sell all sorts of things,” Sheloran said pointedly.

“The Harkeen are fools,” Evoron said, “and they are suffering a fool’s fate. However, please do not make the mistake of assuming that the Harkeen are the Assembly, our name for the mob.”

“All that means is that you are better at being a turd.”

“You’re not wrong,” Evoron replied with another unguarded smile, “However, it is for that very reason that I sought this audience. Will you at least hear me out, in the interest of peace, if nothing else?”

“You want ‘peace’?” Sheloran snarled, “Peace is easy. Leave my people and me alone. Craxina already told me about your plans. You want to smuggle? Smuggle. I don’t give a poop. You aren’t Harkeen, so I have no problem with you, and you more than compensated me for my damages. We’re good… and you really want to keep it that way.”

“If only it were that simple,” Evoron said with another snort-sigh.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Sheloran said firmly, “You really want it to be 'that simple'. If I have to cut my vacation short just to deal with you, you will NOT like what happens… and neither will your little Assembly.”

Her eyes ignited into a whirling madness of color and light.

“Next time, I am not wasting my time with mercs. Next time, I will personally deal with all of you. My patience is a limited resource, and you jerks have taken more than your fair share. I have not a single concern for your welfare remaining.”

Evoron looked at her appraisingly. She was not bluffing!

“As curious as I am to see what form that retribution would take,” he chuckled, “just like the chalice of delights, some things should not be tasted, no matter how curious one might be. It is for that exact reason I wish to have this conversation, to spare my people that ‘delight’.”

He paused.

“How familiar are you with Threen culture.”

“I know all I need to know,” Sheloran replied, “You’re jerks, and you’re bullies, and you die just as easy as anything else does.”

“I sincerely wish I could disagree. It wasn’t always like this,” Evoron said sadly, “We were once a noble, educated, cultured people before we fell into savagery.”

“Boo pooping hoo.”

“You are a vexing little toad, aren’t you?”

“And one that has things far more important than you to deal with,” Sheloran replied, “There’s a good fifty kilograms of cockatrice poop that needs to be fed into the bio-reactor before it outgasses.”

“If you would just fucking listen to me,” Evoron snapped, “You will be able to get back to shoveling that shit in just a few minutes and not have to deal with the Assembly ever again… if you wish.”

Sheloran stared into his eyes. Evoron, with no small amount of difficulty, met her swirling, madness-inducing gaze.

He tried not to sigh with relief as she closed her eyes a moment later.

When they opened, they were normal.

“Talk.”

“As you already know and have utilized to good effect,” Evoron replied, “The concept of ‘respect’ is fundamental to a Threen. It always has been. It is as visceral a need for us as food or shelter. For the crime families of the Assembly, it is even more so. So is strength, perceived or otherwise. While I personally view what you have done to the Harkeen with nothing but pleasure, the wholesale slaughter of one of the outwardly facing crime families across all of civilized space makes the Assembly as a whole look weak, especially the families that deal with the galaxy outside of our home system.”

He paused to take a sip of a glass of ginger ale. By God, that stuff was amazing.

“The Assembly, and the other outward-facing families in particular, cannot allow this to continue. It is now clear that the Harkeen cannot handle their business. They are now too weak to stand against you and make all of us look weak by extension. Something must be done. I would like to be that ‘something’ and can offer you not only a convenient and bloodless… for you… way out of the current situation but a permanent solution to any future issues with the Assembly.”

Sheloran narrowed her eyes.

“How?” she asked suspiciously.

“An outsider causing this sort of damage, especially a ‘weak’ little Plath, is unacceptable.”

Evoron took another delicious sip of ginger ale.

“However, were all of this to be the result of an internal power struggle… Say it was the doing of a particularly nasty and disreputable Threen who is already known to be ‘evil’ even by Assembly standards…”

“What?”

“I would like to claim responsibility for the Chuckies,” Evoron replied, “I will formally claim the Harkeen’s business, territory, and holdings, using the Chuckies as my mercenary force and strongly imply that they always were.”

Sheloran remained silent as she looked at Evoron appraisingly.

“What is more believable, a Plath barista and part-time madam hired some of the nastiest mercs in the galaxy, or that a Threen mob boss, duelist, and assassin did? I just let you take the fall until it was time to make my move.”

“And then I look weak,” Sheloran replied. “And I lose any deterrence that I paid for.”

“You still have the video where you slaughtered a room full of Harkeen,” Evoron replied, “And you still have what Craxina and her kind achieved on the streets of Free Port. How much ‘deterrence’ do you need?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Considering I’m wasting a perfectly good morning talking to you,” Sheloran replied, “I still need more.”

“There is too much of a good thing,” Evoron replied, “and the Chuckies will cause you more trouble in the long run than they prevent. The Assembly must deal with this and deal with you. They can’t let this lie.”

He spread all four of his arms wide.

“I can make the whole thing go away, replace the Assembly presence on Terra with my own, and, if you wish, make us both a lot of money.”

Sheloran reached for an apple and took a bite.

“I’m listening…”

***

“Daaayum! Yewarr rellya gangstr aincha” (Goodness! You actually do partake of criminal endeavor, do you not?) Dwight’s sister drawled as Sheloran finished her call.

“Yes,” Sheloran replied with a gusty sigh, “and I am not happy about it, either. I… I just wanted to…”

She shook her head and chuckled ruefully.

“It doesn’t matter what I wanted. What I am is a girl who takes care of her business and her people. If that means I have to… um… do ‘stuff’, then I do stuff.”

“Kan’t argoo witdat.” (I cannot find fault with that statement.)

“Now, on to more pleasant things,” Sheloran said brightly, “There’s a cockatrice barn to muck out!”

“Ah dun tukkar odat.” (I have already completed that task.)

“Aww!” Sheloran exclaimed, “I was looking forward to that!”

“Yewr weird.” (You are weird.)

“I like driving the cart and running the reactor!” Sheloran exclaimed, “It’s fun!”

“Yew wanna go fetch sum eggz wit me?” (Would you care to join me in a search for eggs?)

“Would I!”

***

At roughly the same time as Sheloran was engaging in yet another fun cockatrice egg hunt (they just dropped them everywhere), Uhrrbet was happily puttering about in her shop.

“Bt’lethg!” Nama’s voice shouted from the back room, now converted into a small pottery studio.

Uhrrbet smiled. She finally managed to get Nama to tell her the meaning of that word.

It was very rude.

Unable to resist, she scurried over to the door and peeked inside.

Standing next to a beautiful but broken pitcher was a very annoyed Nama.

“Oh, that was lovely work,” Uhrrbet chuckled, “Was.”

“Nama is so angry with Nama!” Nama cried, “An entire morning’s work, ruined!”

“Such is the crash and bang of business!” Uhrrbet said cheerfully. “No sense getting angry.”

“Yes, and master provided such a wonderful example when that velvet was miscut.”

“That goddamn machine!” Uhrrbet snarled, “I fucking knew I should have cut that by hand! Do you have any idea what that fabric was worth?”

“Such is the crash and bang of business, Master.”

“Are you being smart with me?”

“Nama would never presume, Master.”

“Heh,” Uhrrbet snorted, “At least you are loosening up a little. Who knows, maybe next week you will actually take your mandated breaks!”

“Must Nama waste his time so? Nama hates taking breaks!”

“Well, maybe if Nama would actually run his own business, then he could be his own boss,” Uhrrbet retorted with a fang-laden smile, “But as long as you work for me, the Republic insists. You can feel free to take it up with them if you wish.”

“… Nama will take his breaks, Master.”

“And speaking of breaks,” Uhrrbet replied, “I’m craving pizza. You want to hit Vk’zz’s for lunch?”

“Nama would be honored to accompany Master!”

“Great! Is now good?”

“Nama could eat before restarting this pouring vessel.”

“And I’m at a good stopping point, too. Let’s…”

The front door opened with a little chime, and Craxina bounded in.

“Iiiii knowwww what youuuu did!” Craxina proclaimed in a loud voice. “I knew you liked our new mob boss, but I didn’t know you liked him!”

“What do you mean?” Uhrrbet replied, her heart skipping a beat.

“I mean that someone took our mini-mobster out to dinner and then went back to his…”

“You had me followed?!?” Uhrrbet snarled.

“No,” Craxina replied with a little confusion, “I had the Threen followed.”

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Uhrrbet replied.

“And our Threen had company last night!” Craxina crooned. “How was he?”

Uhrrbet felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

“I don’t discuss such things,” she said smoothly, “What may or may not have transpired is private and absolutely none of your business.”

“Ooooo!” Craxina squealed.

Uhrrbet forced a faintly lascivious smile causing Craxina to titter.

“So, did you pump him for information?” she grinned.

“Whatever I did or did not do,” Uhrrbet replied, “was purely recreational in nature. I did, however, have a very interesting conversation with him at the Waffle Station later that evening… As you are no doubt aware.”

“So, are you getting in bed with him as well as getting in bed with him?”

“Again, that bed is none of your business.”

“Who you bang isn’t my business,” Craxina replied, “But this neighborhood is, especially when it involves the Threen. If you are up to something with him that doesn’t involve his naughty bits, then I want to know.”

“We have not entered into any formal agreement,” Uhrrbet said, “or an informal one for that matter. We are just discussing possibilities at this point.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Craxina replied, “Just keep me in the loop concerning what the asshole is up to, alright?”

“Not a problem,” Uhrrbet shrugged, “It will likely have little impact on the Free Port no matter what arrangements we make.”

“Still,” Craxina said, “I don’t like your boyfriend lurking about.”

“I wouldn’t consider him my boyfriend,” Uhrrbet replied icily.

“Okay. Then I don’t like your toy lurking about. Better?”

“Whatever.”

“Just let me know if any ‘whatever’ potentially involves us, alright?”

“I would never compromise this neighborhood’s safety. This is my home as well.”

“Okay,” Craxina said with a smile. “I just came over to make Littlefoot happy… and to give you a hard time… though someone else already did that…Eh? Eh?”

“You are insufferable. Do you know that?” Uhrrbet said with a smile she definitely did not feel. “We were about to go to Vk’zz’s for a pizza. Would you like to join us?”

Craxina let forth a happy little coo.

Vk’zz looked funny, but that thing could make a pizza!

***

“Brother,” Evoron said to the image of his gigantic twin on the holo monitor in his hotel suite, “Things are going quite well. I have met with both Sheloran and a Terran organization known as The Saints. I have prepared the fields for sowing and will be returning soon.”

“And I have prepared the beds as far as Father and the Overboss are concerned,” his brother replied. “You will be publicly condemned, of course, and will receive no support… but they will not oppose you either.”

“Excellent!” Evoron enthused. “And my excursion has already borne fruit! I have such a delight to share with you, a beverage known as ‘ginger ale’. You will adore it, even if it isn’t an intoxicant. We will make a fortune from it alone! We are so fortunate that the Harkeen were such fools!”

“Have a care, Brother. They may be fools, but they are well-armed and wounded fools. They will kill you for this, provided you do not kill them first.”

“I have it in hand,” Evoron replied.

“Do I wish to know?”

“You most certainly do not.”

His brother laughed.

“While I will decry you as a fiend, I look forward to whatever insanity you will wreak.”

“Oh, it will be positively delightful, I guarantee.”

“Of that, I have little doubt. Please do not get yourself killed. It would disappoint me to no end.”

“I would be keenly disappointed as well,” Evoron laughed. “And don’t… hang on… A local contact is trying to reach me.”

“Someone more important than your brother?”

“I wouldn’t say more ‘important’, but she is far more pleasant company… and our business is concluded for now. Has the Overboss given any indication concerning your possible betrothment with his daughter?”

“He isn’t opposed to the idea,” his brother replied, “but we need to deliver before anything is signed.”

“And deliver we will. We just don’t need him to introduce any competition. Despite appearances to the contrary, I derive no pleasure in killing.”

“There are other ways to resolve disputes, brother.”

“Yes, but none are as permanent.”

“Decrying you as a fiend won’t be that difficult, you know.”

“Then I am executing my duties flawlessly,” Evoron replied. “I must go. I have far more pleasant company to engage, and I have a lead on acquiring something called ‘crystallized ginger’, as well as samples of the actual herb… or root… or whatever it is that is the original source of the flavor of ginger ale. I am most excited.”

“As am I,” his brother replied, “if it excites your refined tastes, it must be something.”

“It is, I promise you,” Evoron said. “I shall bring some viable samples to see if we can cultivate it. If so, we shall profit greatly… and have something to show Father and the Overboss. Take care, brother, and I shall speak with you again soon.”

“Farewell,” his brother replied as the connection was terminated.

Evoron smiled as he took a moment to examine himself in the mirror and groomed fastidiously.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he once again took a seat in front of the holo monitor.

“Uhrrbet,” he said as her somewhat discomfited image appeared. “What a lovely surprise.”

“I must speak with you,” Uhrrbet said. “Could you drop by my shop, or I could meet you somewhere else if you prefer.”

“I will drop by immediately,” Evoron smiled.

“Thank you,” Uhrrbet replied and hung up.

Evoron chuckled as the image disappeared.

Today had just become even more interesting.

Ginger could wait.

***

“Thank you for coming,” Uhrrbet said as she handed Evoron a ginger ale.

“And thank you for this!” Evoron replied as he accepted the bioplastic bladder. “Your amazing machine makes these far better than the ones I purchase elsewhere.”

“Yes, these old soda bots are a marvel,” Uhrrbet replied, “especially if you buy the original concentrates.”

“I thought those would have been lost.”

“The original manufacturers are gone,” Uhrrbet replied as she poured herself a cup of peppermint tea, “but the original formulas remain, and there is more than one manufacturer who makes them.”

She smiled.

“I would be more than happy to get you in touch with one of them… or discreetly handle any purchases you wish to make.”

“Can you get me one of these soda bots?”

“That won’t be easy. The vintage ones rarely stay on the market long. They make a modern equivalent, but with the Republic’s mobilized economy, you may have to make do with an imperial model, which isn’t as good. I will keep an eye out, though.”

“Please do,” Evoron replied. “It would make a fine gift for my brother.”

He paused to savor his beverage.

“I doubt you asked me here to discuss soda, though.”

Uhrrbet’s smile fell.

“As if I wasn’t humiliated enough,” she grumbled. “Craxina knows that I accompanied you to your hotel and assumes that we… um…”

“She had you followed?”

“What? No. She had you followed.”

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Evoron replied, “Do you need me to corroborate your statement concerning your innocence?”

The tip of Uhrrbet’s nose turned bright red, and she looked away.

“…Or do you need me to corroborate something else?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, an expression that both Threen and humans shared.

Uhrrbet chuffed anxiously, still unable to meet his gaze.

“I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want Craxina, of all people, to know I…”

She slumped with shame.

“…I…”

Evoron snort-sighed and made an unhappy face. He silently hoped that at least one of her attackers could still receive his wrath.

“Whatever you require,” he said gently. “If you wish, we can continue to dine together, and I am certain that we will have things that we would rather discuss away from any spy’s listening devices. I have upgraded to a suite so that I can meet with people away from prying eyes. There is a very nice sitting room separate from my bedchamber that would afford us both privacy and the appearance of impropriety should that appeal.”

“That would…” Uhrrbet faltered, “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“It is the least I could do,” Evoron replied. “It is beneficial for me as well. Craxina, or more precisely, that little feral thing…”

“Littlefoot?”

“That’s the one,” Evoron chuckled, “She will be less inclined to try to dispatch me or have me dispatched if she believes we are involved. It also provides an easily understood reason for my presence that doesn’t involve anything overly insidious on my part.”

He cleared his throat and tried to conceal his nerves.

“Would… Would you care to join me this evening? I would deeply appreciate a local guide. I fear that the technology that is omnipresent here is far more than I am used to. Even the cabs are intimidating.”

“Just wait until you get into an argument with an ATM,” Uhrrbet laughed.

“The ATMs will argue with you?”

“Only if they like you.”

“What?”