Contract 005 - Celevon Edraven / Sashar Arconae
Marick sensed the two approaching Jedi before they reached his door, sighing as he searched the assorted datapads that littered his desk, urgently trying to find the one he had set out for the two Arconan’s beforehand.
Not someone I want to upset, he has a pretty fearsome temper when it gets going.
In perfect harmony, Marick found the datapad he had been looking for just as the doors opened to admit Celevon and Sashar, the Commissioner letting out a proverbial sigh of relief. Sitting back in his seat, Marick lifted the datapad he had just found with his telekinetic powers, floating the device over to the less experienced of the two men who had just entered, indulging himself in a bit of playacting at the young member’s expense. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sashar roll his eyes and barely managed to contain a grin, his chiselled features remaining stoic as the datapad landed in Celevon’s hands and the journeyman began to read.
“Simple enough gentlemen, assassinate the target that is mentioned there and try not to implicate us, as fun as clearing up messes is, I have better things to do, as I’m sure do you.”
Celevon looked puzzled for a few moments before speaking up.
“Um, there is only a name on here, Celsus Fal’tir.”
“That would be because the only information we have on this man is his name. To be more specific, he has been selling secrets to the highest bidder, and seeing as he is situated somewhere within Estle City from what we can gather by the information he is selling, you can see why we want him silenced. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, but it’s in your hands now. Make him disappear, dismissed.”
Name: Celsus Fal’tir
Base of Operations: Estle City (suspected somewhere in the Southern Quarter, although not certain)
Vital Statistics: Information Broker, any more is unknown.
Taking. The. Piss.
:: To All ::
An official extension has been granted to the team of Dark Adept Sashar Erinos Arconae and Protector Celevon Edraven on their Cooperative B-Class Assassination Contract, having cited internet connectivity problems and returning to full active status post-holiday season.
“So…how are we going to tackle this with just a name?” Celevon asked as the two walked down the corridors of the Citadel towards Soulfires’ ‘Barracks.’
“A name’s enough. There are more centres of power in Estle City than just the mystic mob. Well, that’s what we let them think.” Sashar replied, revelling in his own aura of mystery.
Celevon bit off his own snarky response, instead focusing on the job at hand. “So what do we do to find him?”
“You Go down to Master Cuppin’s tailor’s on the west side. Tell him I sent you to get fitted for some greys. He’ll know what it means. Tell him he can charge it to my account. If we’re doing wetwork, you need to look the part.”
“You’re sending me shopping?” Celevon asked, incredulous.
“Yeah. I gotta make a few calls. Com me when you’ve got your Shadesworn Greys.”
fourteen years earlier…
Two youths stood before her. One was slender with aristocratic features, big blue eyes and short, spiked up hair. He was dressed in designer labels from head to toe, and the prominent blaster strapped to his thigh spoke of a man who’d had to grow up early, and not at all in the manner to which his parents would’ve wanted. The other was practically fully grown with a dark complexion, deep brown eyes and wavy black hair brushing his shoulders. He wore Mandalorian iron, painted a muted blue with matte black trim, his helmet tucked under his arm. He was also sporting a heavily modified E-11 blaster carbine strapped to his thigh. Neither could be over fifteen years of age.
The courtesan stood before them, looking at them both as if she were deciding what to have for dinner.
“Do you know why you’re here?” She asked finally, sitting down behind a modest, elegant desk.
The mando shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, whereas the Kuati simply gazed about the room as if nobody had even spoken. Arrogance didn’t even begin to cover it. Eventually, the bulkier of the two began to answer.
“Er-“ She silenced him with one raised finger, then got up, moved around her desk and slapped the Kuati on the cheek.
He recoiled, offended, and was about to go for her when the Courtesan silenced him with a glare that could’ve melted a hole through the mandalorian’s armour.
“You’re here for two reasons. You,” she speared Sashar Kodiak with a glare “Have been sent to learn the art of poisons. Your father is paying an extortionate amount for such training. You,” She turned to Dash Kuatir “opted to come here yourself for Companion training, again at the cost of a small fortune. You’ve both come to me because I’m the best in both fields. My name is Minerva Ramirez. For the next two years, you’re both mine, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be experts in said fields, too. However, neither of you will last more than a day if you can’t manage to answer a question. Sashar, you’ll come to me in the mornings and learn your craft. Dash, you’ll visit in the afternoons and learn my trade. When you’re not with me, you’ll have chores and solo learning, and the evenings are yours. I do not tolerate idle hands. Understood?”
She was terrifying.
Both of the youths nodded, suitably chastised.
“Good. Go get changed. You both look ridiculous.”
Celevon entered the bar and immediately regretted it. His feet stuck to the floor, the ventilation and lighting were well below health and safety minimum regulations, and every single last one of the occupants looked like a grade two or above threat risk. Sashar wasn’t hard to spot; he simply looked in the one direction everyone else was avoiding looking. Small wonder. The Mandalorian had placed his LJ-50 concussion rifle on the table next to his drink, and was turning over a vial in his gloved hands.
“Sarge.” Celevon said by way of greeting as he sat down opposite the Elder.
“This is how we’ll do it.” He announced without preamble.
“It’s Amoxia. A sexually-transmitted disease. Unique, because the carrier is safe, however anyone they pass it onto (obviously, through intercourse) is dead in a matter of days. Works on most humanoid species. The disease was thought wiped out a few hundred years ago when pretty much all the civilised galaxy was immunised against it. Unfortunately, the immunisation wasn’t a genetic thing, so current generations would be susceptible, apart from patient zero, who’d become the carrier.”
“Two questions: First, how did you get hold of it? Second, how are we going to get our target-“
“Our Deader to become afflicted with it?”
Sashar smirked. “Have you ever heard of The Enclave?”
Celevon frowned, thinking. “No, not that I can remember.”
“That’s because you’re a good lad and didn’t get mixed up in bad habits. The Enclave is a criminal organisation, no, The criminal organisation since the Hutts lost their sting thanks to the Vongese. They set up shop in wake of the Black Sun’s collapse, but kept a low profile and mainly operated in the Corporate Sector and Outer Rim, however they have their fingers in all sorts of dirty little secrets. They’re run by the Underlord, who is assisted by the Nine; his lieutenants. One of their Lieutenants, the Mistress of Pleasures, lives here in Estle City. She’s an associate, and she also knows everything that’s worth knowing.”
“How is that going to help us?” Celevon queried, sceptical.
“I’m glad you asked. Two reasons. First: I helped her get where she is today by eliminating several of her political rivals. Second, she can put a face to the name, and even supply us with a girl to give this nasty little di’kut of a disease to. So, with her info sources and her [Expletive Deleted], we can take him out. All we need to do is get him isolated and get him…pliable enough to want to have sex with a girl he meets in a bar.”
“So what do you need me to do?”
Sashar smirked and finally stopped playing with the vial. “My contact, Minerva, has a problem that needs taking care of. She’d send one of her own staff, but wants it to look as if Arcona dealt with the problem to deflect the blame. I think Arcona will be able to handle the ire of one minor spice runner. The navigator of a spice freighter has beaten up one of her girls from the Blue Boar. That place is a brothel, by the way. I need you to go in, kill the navigator, and plant some evidence on the freighter itself that the Port Authority will catch. Oh, that reminds me, make sure Giletta spaceport security know where to look for said evidence. Once that’s done, give me a call and I’ll get in touch with Momma Min.”
Celevon frowned. “Are we still working for Arcona here? It’s getting awfully convoluted.”
“Yeah, we are. But…Arcona doesn’t always know what’s best for it. I do.”
Celevon nodded and took the offered datacard giving details on the navigator and the spice freighter, then turned to leave.
“Trust me, kid. The Enclave isn’t all bad. Just like any other branch of the military…they have their uses.”
Celevon privately mused that that remained to be seen.
“This is just [expletive deleted] great.” Celevon thought to himself as he walked out of the bar, where Sashar had just given him the newest part of his assignment. “An assassination within an assassination. Just how I love my missions. Well, let’s see who the lucky navigator is…”
Name: Aaron Vicks
Hair: Brown, messy
Body type: Slim
Vital Statistics: Navigator, Spice Freighter, The Merideth Jane
Above the name is a picture of a man that is eerily familiar to Celevon. It was one of those cases when your mind starts going into overdrive trying to connect the dots, but the subject is just beyond your reach. With a growl of frustration, Celevon began the long trek back to the Arcona Citadel, where he planned to look through his records while planning what evidence to plant that constituted a death sentence.
Once Celevon had returned to the Arcona Citadel, he headed straight towards his quarters. Once he entered his quarters, he immediately sat at his computer terminal, and uploaded the picture from the datacard Sashar had given him into the terminal, then began an image cross-reference scan. Since the scan was going to run through the entirety of the computer terminal, he figured it would take at least an hour to find a reference. However, moments later, the terminal beeped multiple times, just as Celevon was beginning to brainstorm ideas on evidence to plant in the freighter. Celevon clicked enter and a multitude of pictures popped up, including a link to a holovideo he filmed while on a recon mission on Nar Shaddaa several years before, and he remembered.
Four years earlier…
Celevon and his smuggling partner, Malachi, were on the balcony of a room on the second floor overlooking a large courtyard on the Smuggler’s moon. Each of them had a holovideo recorder aimed at the entrance to a club, called the Rosewood Lounge, where a rival weapons dealer was known to frequent. The club was also well-known as a centre for human trafficking.
After nearly forty-five minutes of watching people stroll through the courtyard, Celevon caught sight of a man, who, while not their target, was quickly walking towards the Rosewood Lounge looking exceedingly shifty, continually looking around himself. One of the unique properties of the recorders they were using, was that it could take still frame shots, while also recording video. The man looked to be in his mid to late twenties. He had messy brown hair, a slim build, and looked to be just under two meters in height. As he entered the club, Celevon zoomed in and took a snapshot while the man was looking over his shoulder. Following a hunch, Celevon kept a lookout for when the man would leave. The hunch paid off, when, nearly half an hour later, the man was walking out of the club with a young twi’lek female, who couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, at the most. Celevon snapped a shot of them leaving the club, where the girl looked deeply reluctant to do so, and seemed to have been crying recently. While the film was still rolling, he followed them in the sights of the holorecorder until they disappeared from sight, into a hotel, called the Vertigo. Celevon left the holorecorder aimed at the entrance to the hotel, while he went out to buy some cigarettes.
It wasn’t until nearly three hours later, at around 3 in the morning, when the man left the hotel, alone, and looking slightly more paranoid. Celevon made sure to take a photo of the man leaving the hotel alone. Just after five in the morning, a woman, who looked to be a janitor, judging by the uniform, ran out of the hotel lobby screaming about a dead girl in a closet. Less than an hour later, the authorities arrived, and Celevon, clad in casual clothing, with an audio recorder in his pocket, walked into the hotel, in the guise of a patron, looking to rent a room for the next day.
Celevon could hear the police questioning the man who had rented out the room describing the man who had rented the room. The physical description matched the man who Celevon had captured on film with the twi’lek girl being the dead one found in the closet of an upstairs room. After capturing the voices of the authorities saying that cause of dead was blunt force trauma, likely caused by fists, and that the young girl had likely been raped multiple times, Celevon headed back to the room where Malachi was still doing surveillance on the club.
It wasn’t until several hours later that, after hacking into the authorities terminals, that Celevon downloaded all of the crime scene photos, as well as a copy of the autopsy report, which stated that while she had indeed been raped multiple times, she had been choked, then beaten to death. It showed her age as fourteen. Her named had been Alaaya Damiri.
Pulled forcefully from the memory by his comlink activating, Celevon heard Sashar’s voice come in so loud and clearly that Celevon looked around the room to find the Elder, before remembering that he still had the comlink on.
“Lone Wolf, report in. This is Wolf Den. Respond.” Sashar’s voice sounded slightly annoyed. He probably had already repeated himself twice before Celevon snapped out of his stupor.
“Lone Wolf, reporting. I’ve got something, but you’re not going to believe it.” Celevon took a deep breath, before exhaling and talking in a shaky voice. “Actually, Sarge, I think you should come over and have a look at this for yourself. I’m having a bit of trouble trying to explain it.”
“Copy that, Lone Wolf. I’ll be there shortly. Wolf Den out.” If there was one thing to say about Sashar, is that he isn’t one to mince words. Straight and to the point.
As soon as the comlink cut off, Celevon got up from the terminal and put the percolator on, considering the two of them could probably use a good cup of java.
The moment Sashar walked into Celevon’s quarters, he headed straight for the terminal after accepting the cup of coffee with a mere nod of thanks. As Celevon had already put all of the information, photos, and video into a single folder on the terminal, all it took from Sashar was one click and he was looking through it all.
In the meantime, Celevon figured he could run through his katas to clear his mind. With that thought in mind, he activated his training lightsaber. With a snap-hiss, the blue blade of the saber ignited. If one were to ignore the humming of the training lightsaber, as it twirled through the intricacies of combat, as well as the sounds of Sashar opening and closing of the files on the terminal made as he sifted through all of the data, there was total silence for nearly a half an hour. When Sashar finished looking through all the data, he remained silent as he watched Celevon continue his katas. It took another five minutes for Celevon to finish his katas. During the last two minutes, Celevon had purposely dropped the lightsaber, which deactivated as soon as it left Celevon’s hand, and switched to Dulon, before finally ending it by pulling a dagger from a sheath and driving it into his imaginary enemies’ carotid artery.
Celevon took a swig from his cup of coffee, rather than clearing his throat, before turning to Sashar. “So, what do you think of the data?”
“I think that will be sufficient evidence to give to port authority, after you purposely kill the deader within their sight.” This was said by Sashar without a change in facial expression or vocal inflection, which left Celevon momentarily speechless.
“What? No, I meant what you think about it personally.” Celevon said this with a slightly indignant glare towards Sashar.
Sashar sighs, taking another sip from his cup, before responding. “Look, ad’ika, I was raised as a Mandalorian. What that means is that I do not consider the past that matters, it’s what you do with it now, and I’ve seen things that could be considered worse than that. Don’t get me wrong, I think that di’kut deserves to die for what he did. And, without a doubt, I know you’ll be his personal angel of death.” The last was said with a truly evil grin, while he handed Celevon a datacard with the entire folder uploaded onto it.
Celevon wore an expression of shock as he took the datacard, before his facial expression transformed into a vicious smirk. Celevon drained his coffee seconds before he stuck the datacard in his pocket, grabbed his black cloak, threw it over his shoulders and walked out of his quarters without looking to see if Sashar followed.
Giletta spaceport was filled with people as Celevon stalked the deader, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. In a normal murder case, Celevon would’ve been doing his best to kill the target in complete secrecy, without being seen by the authorities. This was different. Celevon wanted to be in full view of the public for this execution. Where Celevon’s visage was normally seen with a grin, his face had frosted over in an eerily calm expression, though his eyes gave away the murderous intent lurking just beneath the surface.
As the moment approached, Celevon saw the world come into a sort of crystal clarity. Celevon made sure to catch the eyes of a port authority member as he pulled the dagger from it’s sheath. When Celevon saw the guard’s eyes widen and turn to get the attention of another, Celevon knew the moment had come.
“Hey, Vicks!” Celevon shouted, getting the attention of nearly everyone in the hall, including his victim to be. As the deader turned around, his hazel eyes widening in panic at the sight of a dark-cloaked figure, Celevon lunged with his dagger, catching Vicks full in the center of his throat, so that the man would drown in his own blood. Celevon made sure to not kill the man immediately, as he wanted the deader to suffer long enough for him to deliver his message. “I bring death to you on swift wings. May it be more than you deserve.” This was said moments before Aaron Vicks’ hazel eyes glazed over in death, and his body went slack. Moments after his corpse fell to the ground, Celevon dropped the datapad on the body, leaving the dagger embedded in Vicks’ throat.
A member of the port authority yelled “FREEZE!,” while he and two others aimed their blaster pistols at Celevon. While they had been aiming and yelling for Celevon to freeze, however, Celevon had used two force powers so quickly, they were almost simultaneous: Blackness, immediately followed by Force Speed. When the area cleared, all that remained was the corpse of Aaron Vicks with a dagger imbedded in his throat, and a datapad lying on his chest.
When the force powers Celevon had used became inactive, Celevon was almost a mile away, his force pool severely depleted. Celevon took a deep breath to steady his nerves, before he activated his comlink. “Wolf Den, this is Lone Wolf. Come in, over.”
Sashar’s voice came over the comlink a second later. “Lone Wolf, this is Wolf Den. Report, over.”
“Wolf Den, deader eliminated. Repeat, deader has been eliminated, over.” Celevon reported.
“That’s an affirmative, Lone Wolf. Head back to your quarters and get cleaned up. I’ll contact you after I report the news to the mother wolf. Over and out.” Sashar said, before the comlink went silent.
Celevon took another deep breath and released it. Shortly after, he began the long trek back to Arcona Citadel.
Six months ago…
Minerva felt the prick against the skin at the back of her arm. She didn’t turn around.
“You actually killed him?”
Sashar moved around the desk at which the Mistress of Pleasures was sitting and dropped a delicate silver earring before her. It was bent out of shape and scorched along one side.
“How did it happen?” She asked, a quaver in her voice for the first time since Sashar had known her.
“I tracked him to Drezo and brought down the facility. He died fighting me. Casualties were taken on both sides. You’ve been poisoned with Ariamu root and Kouhun Venom.”
“. I know. Now you’re here to kill me for helping him try to kill you?”
Sashar paused and sat down, staring her in the eye for a long moment before replying. “I’ve been contracted to…punish you for helping Dash interfere in Arcona’s efforts. I accepted. You’re now my deader. You know what that means.”
Minerva swallowed, but to her credit didn’t try to beg or plead for her life.
“Why did you help him? You were like a mother to both of us. You raised us both. You made us. What made him better than me?” He asked, the first hints of frustration evident in his tone.
“Because he needed more help and guidance than you. You always had a big family to help you. He had us. We’re hardly a functional support base. I told you both never to get involved. You ignored me. You knew what he’d do to you but you still wilfully went down that path and now he’s dead at your hand. I had to give him a chance.”
“I know.” Sashar replied quietly, reaching into one of the many pouches on his armour. “I just needed you to say it out loud.” He stood, put the vial he’d produced from his person and placed it on the desk between them, then pulled on his helmet, becoming a faceless avatar of Arcona once more.
“This is your punishment. You get to choose whether or not you deserve to die for pitting one child against the other. That’s the antidote. For what it’s worth, I hope you drink it.”
As he passed her on his way out of the window at her back, she stayed him with a simple statement. “I helped him more than you know. He’s still alive.”
“Momma Rami, the deader’s been dealt with.”
“I know. I was watching. He made quite the mess. Where’d you dig him up?”
Sashar smirked. “He’s the latest addition to my squad. He’s got a way to go, but looks promising. Anyway, where’s my deader?”
“Celsus Fal’tir is currently in the Tipsy Tart. He’s there for a business meeting in one of the private booths. After his meetings, he usually has a drink or two, then leaves.”
Sashar nodded, the final elements of the plan slotting into place in his head. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I need somewhere to get changed, a girl willing to make a little extra cash, and a bartender who’s willing to mint himself.”
“I’m sure the staff will be willing to work with you.”
Sashar arrived at the Tipsy Tart via a window to one of the ‘Guest Room’s on the top floor. He quickly changed into civilian clothes and took his only two weapons: a vial of amoxia loaded into a spray-hypo, and a vial of ‘Crude’ – a powerful roofie. He proceeded down to the ground floor, where the bar and restaurant was situated and sat down at the bar proper.
“Hey, kid, C’mere. I’m a friend of a friend.” He said to the human bartender (a rarity in the establishment; most bars preferred to use droid servers, as they were a lot cheaper but Momma Rami always preferred the ‘personal touch’)
“I’ll give you two hundred if you slip this into a drink for me.” He said, palming the vial over to him.”
“What is it?”
Sashar grinned easily. “It’s just a little carsunum. Want to make sure a client of mine has a good time here. Don’t worry.”
Placated, the bartender nodded and pocketed the vial of ‘Crude’ and set back to work as if nothing happened. Soon after, Celsus finally showed himself. He was recognisable purely because he was utterly bland and unmemorable. He fairly screamed ‘Information broker’ to Sashar, and he grinned around his pint of net’ra gal. The Mandalorian called over one of the working girls and sat down at a quiet table with her.
“Okay, here’s the deal. My client over there needs to relax and unwind a bit. I’ll pay you double your usual rate if you show him a good time…but there’s a hitch.”
The twi’lek frowned. “What about you? Don’t you deserve some relaxation too?”
Sashar grinned. “You’re not my type. I prefer a little more penis on my partners. Anyway, first, he can’t know I’ve sent you. It’s a surprise. Second… he’s got a bit of a skin condition. Don’t worry, it won’t affect you, but if he comes into contact with untreated nonhumans, he breaks out in a rash. A simple injection for you solves the problem. It only lasts a few hours, though, so be quick.”
The change in the hooker was jarring. “I want three thousand for all the special requests. On top of my usual fee.”
“He’ll cover the usual fee. I’ll give you 1.5.”
“Done.” Sashar reached over and pressed the spray-hypo against her arm before she could flinch. As soon as the amoxia was transferred, he grinned then went back to the bar.
“Hey, kiddo. My friend is that guy over in the corner on the comlink. Spike his drink when he orders it.”
The bartender coughed politely. Sashar rolled his eyes and slipped a few high denomination credit chips into his hand.
“Right away, sir.” He replied, grinning cheekily. The Mandalorian sat back and watched events unfold.
Sure enough, Celsus crossed over to the bar and ordered a glass of Alderaanian wine which the bartender dutifully roofie’d. As soon as the broker took a sip, his face turned red and he had to shake his head to clear it. ‘Crude’ was a powerful, powerful psychotropic which lowered inhibitions and augmented base impulses tenfold. It was like being incredibly drunk and horny all at once. Less than two minutes passed, during which time Celsus emptied the contents of his glass when the hooker Sashar had spoken to crossed over and sat opposite him. Negotiations took all of ten seconds. They headed upstairs to the guest rooms after that.
Sashar finished off his drink, fished out his comlink and contacted Marick. “Deader’s down. No way it can be traced to us. Want us to come back in?”
“It’s Talos, actually. Marick’s been called away. Good job. Come back in for debriefing.”
Arcona Contract Bureau Offices
Talos Omerta was reclining in the comfortable flo-form chair, eyes flicking between the news broadcast he was watching on the HoloTV and the door to Marick's -- no, his -- office, where he could feel the sharp Force-presence of Sashar Erinos Arconae and the not-so-sharp, but still vibrant, presence of Celevon Edraven getting ever closer.
"3..2..1" muttered Talos as the door to the Commissioner's office whooshed open and the two Soulfire commandos stepped in. Omerta took his feet off of the desk and picked up a holo-file, flipping through its contents as he said:
"Adept Sashar, Protector Edraven...welcome back"
The two Obelisks merely nodded their thanks:
"And well done...very well done" the Commissioner added after a moment's pause. The Warrior looked up at the pair, closing the file. Looking through it had just been a formality, as the Firrerreo had memorized the important sections.
"You two have completed your contract, by silencing the information broker Celsus Fal'tir" he said rather obviously.
"But not only that, you have also eliminated a spice dealer who was wanted on over six planets, including Nar Shadda. Two mynocks with one blaster bolt, I think the saying goes. Anyway, you two have both performed remarkably, despite the lack of intelligence and information that the Bureau was able to provide. Get cleaned up and get some rest, it's well deserved. Dismissed"
Sashar nodded again and spun on his heel while Celevon gave a slight bow at the Sith Warrior before following his master and sergeant out the door.
"Protector Edraven!" Talos called out. Timidly, as if fearing retribution for his public assassination of Aaron Vicks, Celevon poked his head back inside the office.
"I hope to see you back for another contract, Protector. Perhaps you'd like to try your hand at a solo?" the Commissioner said, smiling at the Journeyman.
_/\_ :: Debrief :: _/\_
As ordered by the Arcona Contract Bureau, the Information Broker known as Celsus Fal'tir is dead, silenced in a manner that ensures that no evidence whatsoever was left behind that could implicate House Arcona. Well done, contractors!
Mission Grade -- Excellent
Technical -- Very well put together, with no major or disruptive errors. There was a minor case of "tense confusion" in Celevon's post, but it was quickly corrected and was not so obvious as to disrupt the continuity of the story.
Story -- An excellent story! It's at times like this when I think that House Arcona should just take over writing Star Wars. I particularly loved the "flashbacks" into both Sashar and Celevon's past and especially how it was tied in to relate to the present contract. This really opens up doors for character development and made the characters that much more "real". Also, the method of dealing with the deader was totally original and unexpected, I loved it.
Style -- Very easy to read, with nothing that distracted me (or any reader) from the story. However, as I said above in "Technical", there was a small bit of "tense confusion" with Celevon's post, but like I've said, nothing that halted the "flow" of the story.
Conclusion -- A superb contract not only because of its unique and original story, believable characters, and overall lack of grammatical errors, but also because of how Sashar and Celevon made the whole "Co-Operative" setting really jive. At risk of repeating myself for the umpteenth time...very well done!