Galed Sartis, his walking stick in one hand as it usually was, and a heavy black duffel bag in the other, was waiting in the landing bay of Copia for the arrival of his business partner, Franchot Brogan. Understandably, he was nervous, but he wouldn't let it show.

"I'm sure he'll be here any minute," Galed told Gregorie, his walking stick. "We got it off Tythus. That's the hard part. Now we just need to hand it off to Franchot, get our money, and we're home free."

Gregorie had very little to say about this, as usual, but Galed could sense her agitation.

"Maybe we can even retire. I'm getting to old for this," Galed added.

If the plan was successful, Galed would find himself very well off indeed. However, Franchot had other plans in mind, which he reviewed as he disembarked from the Jerusha.

"Galed!" boomed Franchot louder than necessary. "How've you been?"

"Alright," Galed mumbled, setting off across the Jerusha's landing pad, Gregorie clicking with every other step.

"How'd it go?" Franchot asked. He'd not say what 'it' was, but he didn't need to.

"I have it," Galed confirmed. "It was quiet."

"Excellent. My client will be pleased."

In the context of their meeting, Franchot's client was a man by the name of Kadon Parwiz, a Pugnarian member of the Opaque Pirate federation. Galed, as was typical of such a job, knew none of this.

"You have the money?" Galed asked.

Franchot grinned, eying the bag that Galed carried. "Absolutely," he said with uncharacteristic pleasantness. "Let's step inside."

As Galed followed Franchot to the hatchway of the Jerusha, he couldn't help but have his suspicions. The contract they were filling was orders of magnitude more important than any other they'd ever done, and while it wasn't uncommon for Franchot to make his transaction with Galed inside, to not arouse suspicion, Franchot had never been quite so happy about it before.

It was to Galed's disadvantage that he didn't heed his own instincts, for no sooner than the hatch had closed did the searing pain of a very sharp knife in the back of his neck drop him to his knees.

"You've been helpful, Galed," Franchot said, "but see, I want to retire, and I can't do that on no piddly twenty five million credits."

Galed choked and sputtered as he saw Gregorie clatter to the floor. Franchot took the bag and walked around to face Galed in the tiny hall.

"Your half should have me all set," Franchot said, and as he smirked, his former business partner slumped into a twitching heap on the cold, metal floor.

Kareima, still in the cockpit, continued to crunch numbers in her calculations. The Albatross had had the advantage of some very sophisticated computer equipment designed to handle the math involved in warp calculations, but on the Jerusha, it was Kareima and her own brain.

So focused on her work she'd become that Kareima hadn't even noticed Franchot leave, conduct his business, and return.

"All set?" Franchot asked.

"Almost," Kareima muttered, typing a parameter into the co-pilot's console. "You can go do your stuff, I'll just go back downstairs when I'm done."

"Already did," Franchot said, pulling back on the flight yolk, causing the ship to rock slightly and lift from it's pad.

"Really?" Kareima looked up, confused. "Oh. Ok, well I'll be done in a minute."

Franchot chuckled to himself as the Jerusha cleared the landing bay doors and shot off through empty space.

"Ok," Kareima said. "All set." She looked over the numbers one more time before standing and finding herself met with Franchot's chest.

"One more favor," Franchot said quietly. "Well, not really a favor. 'Favor' implies choice."

Kareima frowned, looking up at the big man with the worrying gleam in his eye.

"Make a sound,' Franchot warned, "and I'll vent the whole lower decks into space."

Kareima flinched as Franchot rested a meaty hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Your call. Which will it be?"

Kareima shook as Franchot moved closer to her, so that she had nowhere to go. She knew what was about to happen, and she knew that Jarin, Kendrick, Newlin and Vex were in the lower compartments, and so she stayed quiet.

"Good choice. I'm a bit fond of Liz."

Rage and disgust built inside Kareima to intolerable levels as Franchot began unbuckling his belt. Her eyes were watering, and she was shaking violently, but even as his hands moved for her own clothes, Kareima remained silent.

Two decks below, Jarin climbed out of his bunk and stumbled blearily into the hall as Franchot, directly above him, had his way.

"'Mornin'," Jarin mumbled as he climbed the stairs into the common area where Liz, Vex and Newlin were already gathered.

"How'd you sleep?" asked Newlin.

Jarin mumbled something about coffee and started toward the counter.

"That's not coffee," Vex warned. "I don't know what it is, but it is definitely not coffee." He shook his head as Jarin peered at him. "It's not worth it."

Jarin looked to Newlin, who merely offered a silent shrug, and conceded, opting instead to flop onto the couch and wake up the hard way.

"So what did you do on the ship?" Liz asked, hoping to get a response before Jarin woke up too much.

"Let's save those questions for later," Vex requested before Jarin could answer. "Once he's had enough time to wake up and remember that we're not to talk about that."

Jarin had, in fact, forgotten.

"You're no fun," teased Liz. Throughout the time they'd spent talking, Vex had decided that Liz was not all bad, and the conversation had evolved into a sort of game of wits.

The chatter in the common area quieted quite suddenly when Kareima climbed down the ladder and turned to face the room. She was dressed, but she was pale and looked like she was going to be sick. The five pairs of eyes in the room stared through her. Nobody said anything as she walked silently through the room, down the stairs and out of sight.

The room remained quiet for a few moments, everyone painfully aware that there was something very much not right.

Finally, Jarin stood. If he stood a chance with her, he thought, he'd need to have the guts to talk to her, and so without another word, and very much more awake, he hurried down the stairs into the door to the room he stayed in.

Inside, he found Kareima sitting, shivering on the lowest of the three bunks.

"What happened?" Jarin asked, to which Kareima didn't respond. "Kareima, what happened?"

"Nothing," Kareima muttered.

"Come on," Jarin said, moving to sit beside Kareima, which only made her scoot father away. "What happened?"

"Nothing!"

"Kareima--"

"Shut up!" Kareima screamed, shaking as tears ran down her face. "Just shut the fuck up, Jarin!"

Oh a ship so small, Jarin's list of suspects was short. "What did he do?"

Jarin's question cut through Kareima like a white hot knife, and never before had she felt so helplessly exposed.

"Kareima, what--"

"He raped me, Jarin!" Kareima cried.

Jarin's pulse quickened. As Kareima cried, Jarin stood and stormed out into the hall. The stairwell was a blur, and with the exception of the knife on the counter, the common room was no different.

A deck above, Franchot was in his bunk buttoning up his new shirt and feeling very pleased with himself. He had scored himself fifty million credits, and topped off his morning with very pretty young woman, and the day had only just begun.

Just as Jarin was stepping off the ladder, Franchot was opening the door across the hall. Jarin squeezed the handle of the knife he'd grabbed from the counter, and as Franchot looked up in surprise, Jarin shoved the blade through the flesh under Franchot's jaw with a soft crunch.

Jarin watched as Franchot stumbled and collapsed in the doorway. He made a sickening gurgling noise, not unlike the one made by Galed some time earlier, and fell into silent twitching.

Jarin's stomach churned at the realization of what he'd done. He stumbled back, nearly falling through the opening of the ladder, but grabbing a rung for support.

"Jarin?" Vex repeated from the deck below, though that was the first time Jarin had actually heard him. "Jarin, what's going on?"

Jarin, still shaking, stepped onto the ladder and climbed down. Maybe somehow they wouldn't find Franchot laying in the doorway with a knife in his head. Jarin's feet reached the ground, and he turned to find some very shocked faces.

"...Is that blood?" Newlin asked, wide-eyed. Jarin looked down and indeed, his arm and shirt were covered with an amount of blood that could not have been healthy for it's owner.

"What the hell did you do?!" Liz shouted, storming toward Jarin, but Newlin caught her.

"Jarin, what happened?" Newlin asked him frantically. "Words! Now!"

Jarin jumped, and he told them in what he thought couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was apparently loud enough, as everyone fell very, very silent.

Newlin absently let go of Liz, who stood in shock. "Oh my god," she mumbled uselessly.

"Is he dead?" Vex asked with an even tone and neutral expression.

"I think so," Jarin mumbled. He simply could not shake the haunting feeling that he had taken a man's life, possessions and relationships, and destroyed them all in less time than he had spent asleep the previous night, and probably even in less time than the sleep he'd get the next night.

"Go change," Vex said. "And then stay in your bunk until I come fetch you." Vex's mood was impossible to read, and so Jarin obeyed without question.

"And for christ's sake, don't let Kendrick see that!" Newlin pleaded.

Jarin offered no reply, but stumbled to his bunk, where he told Kareima everything.