One Small Favour

[Omi]

"A what?"

"You know. A churro."

The voice coming out of her console wasn't making much sense, and Komachi was beginning to feel confused. She'd found the Xeno ships, all right - or at least, bits and pieces of them were floating past her Sabre on all sides. CTE-manufactured chunks were bouncing gently off her shields, each accompanied by its own little bip as the fighter's systems registered the individual impacts.

Among the wreckage sat the perpetrator - a spiky, mean-looking freighter. It looked like something the Corsairs would build, if she had to guess - although what exactly a Cretan ship was doing in Kepler was another thing entirely. Her fingers curled around the flight stick, eyes locked on the vessel before her. If it meant her harm as well, she'd be fleeing from it at thrust speed, with quite a lot of fancy flying involved to boot. It undoubtedly had a cruising speed higher than her Sabre's - and that was assuming she could get them spooled up to full power. Really, she should have had it serviced weeks ago.

Right now, though, the Corsair pilot didn't seem particularly harmful. In fact, he just seemed petulant, mumbling something about "churros" being stolen. Whatever those were.

Sighing, Komachi depressed the 'transmit' button again.

"Look, I don't know what a 'chooro' is, signore. All I know is that I came here to shoot Xenos, not you."

"Ah, senorita!" came the reply, sounding faintly disbelieving.
"You never eaten a churro before in your life, cholita? You should swing by Lagos sometime, girl. Ask for Miguel. Best churros this side of Crete."

"Right." Clearly, the man was mad. Anticipating trouble - madmen always meant trouble, Komachi flared the ship's engines slightly, pointing the nose squarely towards the freighter. Any sudden movements, and she'd be perfectly poised to squeeze off a quick burst of fire before he could really try anything. If he noticed, however, the captain didn't seem to care.

"Actually, senorita, I could really go for a churro or two right now. Know what I'm saying? You a merc type, right? Whatcha say you do some trabajo for me, ese? You head back too soon, and they gonna wonder how you killed those Xenos so fast anyway. ¿Comprende?"

He had a point - albeit a weak one. Upon seeing the dead Xeno patrol, Komachi had already mentally walked into the Ames bar, looking forwards to an hour or two of quick relaxation. Helping a lost Corsair far from home get his hands on 'churros' fell decidedly out of the 'leisure' category. Still...

"How much?" she blurted out, even as she mentally kicked herself. More like 'shove it, creep'. Maybe part of me just wants to find out what a 'churro' is firsthand. Money was money, though, no matter where - or who - it came from.

"It's not far," reassured the voice. "There's a lot of familia on Deshima. No surprise there, eh? Those Hunters are stupid enough to believe anything, even a Cretan against his own people!" He chuckled, prompting her to laugh along with him, albeit a little too slowly. If it was a joke, she didn't get it. Sisters turned each other in all the time. It was one of the reasons Fuchu stayed so 'cosy' and 'warm'.

"Anyway," he continued. "Bring me a nice, fresh-fried churro con chocolate, and I'll give you something worth taking home." If voices could wink, she'd have sworn his just did. As he finished speaking, her console beeped. A picture message, evidently.

Warily, she manipulated the viewscreen in front of her, pulling up the image. A crate full of bottles greeted her, with the word 'TEQUILA' stencilled rather simply on the side. Churros, she might not have known - but boy, did she know what that meant.

"True Cretan tequila," assured the voice, with perfect timing. "Nothing like the cervezas you've had before, cholita. This is the real stuff, you get me?"

"I get you," she breathed, almost forgetting to press 'transmit' again. "Deshima, right?"

"Tell them Tortuga sent you," came the reply, sounding very wise all of a sudden. Or was that smugness? She couldn't tell - but the promised reward was more than worth a half-hour delivery mission. That was easy enough to work out, at least.

"Tortooa," echoed Komachi, expertly butchering the pronunciation. "Got it. I'll see you on Ames, signore... Tortuga?"

"Sí." With that, the freighter glided smoothly past her, shuddering as its cruise engines began to heat up. She watched it go, still looking slightly unsure about things - as well as a little aggrieved. Nothing was ever simple these days, it seemed. Shooting Xenos was hard work, sure - but at least that was what she'd actually signed up for. Running delivery missions for a Cretan national, however, was another thing entirely. The whole thing smelt of a set-up, or, at the very least, some kind of elaborate joke.

One small favour, Yanni? Yeah, sure.

She waits for him to disappear into the distance before she gets moving herself, the Sabre silhouetted starkly against the dark Kepler clouds as it rolls once and rockets back towards the tradelanes.

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