Yarod Cool
Team JAVELIN The Cyrene Initiative
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Posted - 2006.11.19 19:27:00 -
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[Luminaire VII-Moon 4-Federal Administration Bureau Offices]
"Monsieur Cool," the fat little man said in his whiny voice. "I'm really not surprised you're here."
Yarod Cool sat across the desk, his face expressionless. Usually he told people just to call him Yarod, but he made no move to correct the man who was speaking.
"There are some who think highly of you, who would not expect to catch you smuggling." The fat man paused and smirked. "Ah, but I knew no Caldari could be as he claimed. How quick you are to renounce your state, and to parade your Matari wife! But on the inside, you are still a lying, criminal Caldari. And a slave trader... the lowest kind of creature that lives!"
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Yarod had been transporting contraband. He had loaded 209 slaves into the holds of Meteor, his fastest transport. Some of the slaves had been rescued from as far as Domain; the rest from pirates within Federation space. If he could get them to Pator, his contacts could give these poor people their freedom and citizenship; education, jobs, and a chance to build their own lives. Here in the Federation, they were legal nobodies: without identification, travel papers, money, or friends, they could be detained for months, years, or the rest of their lives. They might be quietly relocated, or they might be housed in prisons. The bureaucracy of the Federation was not a thing you could trust people's lives to.
He thought he could make the trip. He'd moved contraband before, both through the Federation and the State. Never so far, but he didn't worry. His Bustard class transport was fitted for speed, with nanofiber and microwarpdrives. He had a set of navigational aids to bring him through Sinq Laison and then to Pator. He had carried some of these rescued slaves several jumps into the Federation, right past customs ships to get to Aunia. This leg of the trip would be longer, but he would make it through. And anyways, just to be safe he had loaded ship modules into his holds, so that anyone scanning his cluttered cargo bays would have a hard time picking out his passengers.
But just a little while later, after jumping into Unel, he received a transmission from the Federation Customs. They had scanned him and found the slaves. If he failed to surrender them, his ship was forfeit - and the lives of every man, woman, and child on board.
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Yarod maintained his silence as the fat man across his desk continued ranting. It didn't matter what this bureaucrat thought or said; when Yarod left this room, the fat man would have no power over him. When he got back into the pod, he would once again have his freedom.
"So since you are still useful for propaganda, the Federal Administration will keep this quiet. But just you know, Monsieur Cool, there are powerful people, ones who do not bow down to Foiritan, who know what kind of monster you are! Now good day, Monsieur Cool!"
With that, the fat man picked up his datapad and turned his attention on it, pointedly ignoring Yarod as he stood up and left the cushy office. Yarod crossed the carpet to the door, opened it, and left the fat man to his little universe.
"What did I tell you, Yarod?" piped a soft voice, "They will not do a thing to punish you. They know you are no slaver." Marie D'Artois, his corporate attorney, had been waiting for him.
Yarod looked over at the petite Gallentean. "I know, Marie. I'm just worried about what will happen to them." He sighed. "Is there any way we can make sure they get to the Republic?"
"You must let them go, Yarod. There is only trouble in pursuing this. Leave the Administration to take care of them now."
Yarod thought of the little fat man and clenched a fist. He could not trust the Administration. It might take a long time and a lot of money, but he would find a way to help those 209 slaves... no, those 209 brothers and sisters, to get home.
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