Chapter 3
“Hmm, the best part of exploring for sure is ‘turning ‘ome with spoils, eh?” the alien chuckled, having returned to Lyra and Les Paul’s location after the first couple minutes of space travel had passed, and after having set the autopilot and navicomputer coordinates. But he didn’t allow for a response from either of them before switching topics. He took a seat opposite them, demeanor instantly shifting. “So, then...I believe I promised ta answer some’a ya’s questions. What’ll be first?”
“Who are you, and where are you taking us?!” Lyra shouted, leaning slightly towards the alien and giving him the nastiest glare she could muster, the whole of which seemed to be more amusing to the alien than intimidating, to her dismay.
She felt a hoof rest on her shoulder in response, and looked to Les Paul, who bore a disappointed expression. Never one for outward displays of aggression, he was, even to those who deserved it. Submitting, she returned to a less threatening position.
“Please,” Les Paul started, his first direct words to anything alien, “forgive my daughter’s rudeness. We’re just...distraught, after…” He trailed off, ears splaying back and head falling low.
“Hm, pity,” the alien said sympathetically. “I’d’ve much liked ta meet ‘er.” After a moment, he amended, “The mother, I mean. Hm, but if it’s justice ya’re concerned about, know that that droid’ll be scrapped ‘s soon as we’re on Coruscant.”
Les Paul barely acknowledged him, whispering a “Thank you,” as a fresh tear freely streamed down his cheek. It picked up dust and sand accumulated from the prior sandstorm, leaving a visible trail of light blue coat behind.
“My...my question still stands,” Lyra reminded the alien, though her focus was only on her dad, reciprocating his earlier gesture and placing her own hoof on his shoulder, though for comfort as opposed to suppression.
The alien grinned slightly. “Who I am, eh? There’s a question I ‘aven’t been asked in a while. Might ‘ave to do to with bein’ well known in the galaxy. But then again, we ain’t in the galaxy, are we? My name is Tozzulo. I’m a Toydarian from the planet Toydaria, an’ I’m a rather famous merchant and explorer...famous ‘mong certain crowds, that is. As for where I’m taking you, I already said: Coruscant. Got a friend there I wan’ you two ta meet.”
“And...what are your wares?” Les Paul asked, quietly and tentatively.
“Oh...rare things,” Tozzulo answered, taking a second to consider his response. “Exotic things- things no one has ever seen before.”
Les Paul gulped, beginning to tremble slightly. “And those ‘exotic things’ wouldn’t happen to be-”
“Heh, ya’re smart,” Tozzulo complimented. “I suppose that’s only better for me, then, eh?”
What was daddy going to say?! Lyra thought, not having any immediate ideas.
Her dad’s horn began to illuminate softly. “No,” he said resolutely, standing in his seat and lowering his head in a sign of aggression. “You’ve taken Mandy away from us already, and I will not let you take Lyra too!”
Though confused about the details, she figured from what her dad said that the alien had ill intentions for them, and she mimicked her father’s stance, preparing a defensive spell, the only one she knew. It was nothing more than a numbing spell, but it could still very well incapacitate somepony if hit in the right area.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling around for energy to build up her spell with, but found very little. Her brow furrowed as she strained and strained to find a reserve of magical energy, but any little bit she found merely sputtered out of the end of her horn, which barely glowed, as a pathetic spark. Opening one eye quickly, she saw her father apparently struggling with the same issue.
“That’s a cute trick,” Tozzulo snorted, “but it ends there.” From one of his many belt loops, he retrieved a device resembling a smaller version of the weapons held by his droids, and pointed it directly at Lyra.
Lyra was paralyzed by fear, and was wearied by her attempt to cast. With the weapon aimed at her, she stopped in her casting, then collapsed into a sweaty, panting mess. Les Paul followed suit, buckling under the strain of his failed spell.
“Ya know,” Tozzulo started, carelessly waving the weapon between the two of them, “normally, I try ta treat my merchandise well before I ‘ave to get rid of it; no one wants ta buy something that’s broken, eh. But when it fights back, I ‘ave no problem shooting it dead before it kills me first.”
He now aimed his weapon unwaveringly at Les Paul. “So let me break things down for you two so that you understand perfectly: you are mine. You do as I say. If you don’t, you die. Is that clear?”
Les Paul answered with a pathetic groan, an unsatisfactory response for the alien. He flapped his way closer to Les Paul, resting the cold, metal barrel on Les Paul’s forehead, right under the base of his horn. “Answer me: is that clear?”
“Understood,” he muttered.
“Good,” Tozzulo said. He retraced his weapon from Les Paul’s head and flew back to his seat, dangling the weapon at his side. “Any more light shows from either of you, and ya’re both dead. Now, I think it’s ‘bout time my hospitality’s been expended. Get up.”
Lyra obeyed to the best of her ability, shakily rising to her hooves. Beside her, her father struggled, but eventually found his footing as well.
“It’s time I think that I show you two where you’ll be stayin’, eh? Off the chairs,” the Toydarian commanded. Lyra stepped down first, then went to Les Paul’s seat to help him to the floor, as he was still weak. Tozzulo left his seat as well, taking to the air and gesturing to a nearby corridor with his weapon. Getting the hint, Lyra and Les Paul trotted to the indicated corridor, Tozzulo in tow.
The corridor was only a few strides long, and led into what appeared to be a storage room. It was lined with containers of various sizes. Curiously, each metal container had a line of holes in the center, and a tiny number pad adjacent to the holes.
Tozzulo flew over to one of the larger containers and began to press on the number pad, presumably entering some sort of combination, though he kept his weapon trained on the ponies to ensure they didn’t run. Not that they anywhere to run to. Once the combination had been entered, the front of the container opened with a mechanical hiss.
Looking into it, Lyra saw that the container was empty, and had enough space that she and her father would be able to fit comfortably. Of course, that was a silly standard with which to gauge the size of it. Nopony put other ponies into boxes…right?
“‘ight, inta the box ya go,” Tozzulo said, moving behind them and prodding them with his weapon. Not wishing to incur his wrath, Lyra and Les Paul obeyed. Once inside, they turned around to face their captor, who was busy fiddling with the keypad. With a final stroke, an orange barrier flashed into existence in front of the two ponies, each of them jumping back in surprise. “‘ere’s the deal: Coruscant is still about thirty hours away, and I ‘ave a few things ta make ready for when we land. Now, unless ya’s wantin’ to be turned ta dust or be shot, I wouldn’ go touchin’ that there energy field, or even attempt ta break out. This room’s under surveillance at all times, so I’ll know if one’a ya’s up ta something funny.”
After that, Tozzulo hummed to himself for a second. Finally holstering his weapon, he mused, “After what ya’ve been through, with the desert an’ all, I imagine ya’s thirsty. I’ma grab the each’a ya a canteen’a water, then we’re gonna leave each other alone for a while.”
And so he left, presumably to fetch the promised water, though Lyra couldn’t tell, confused as she was over the alien’s motives. “I can’t tell if he wants to kill us or what,” she said.
Beside her, Les Paul trotted to the corner of the cage nearest to him and sat down. He sighed weakly. “You can’t figure out what he wants from us?” When Lyra shook her head ‘no’, he surprised her by actually chuckling ever so slightly. “Heh, I guess I can be somewhat happy that you have no idea what’s actually happening. Means you’re innocent, and that you’re a good pony for not having such thoughts.”
Lyra moved to sit beside her dad, and he immediately wrapped her in a tight, protective embrace. She snuggled into him, trying to get as much of herself as possible into his comforting presence. “What does he want from from us, then, dad? Please tell me.”
“Tozzulo wants money, Lyra. We’re his, and he intends to sell us.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” she complained. “You can’t own other ponies, right? And who’s he going to sell us to?”
Again, Les Paul sighed. “Sadly, Lyra, it is entirely possible for somepony to own somepony else. It is a practice called slavery, and it’s a cruel, twisted means of deponyizing somepony. There is a master, who obtains a victim by either purchasing them or taking them by force, and there is the victim, or slave, who must either do whatever their master says or be punished.”
“I haven’t heard of anything like that. Does slavery exist in Equestria?” Lyra asked.
“No, never Equestria. In other kingdoms, like the gryphon kingdom back when they were conquerors, yes, but never in Equestria. Legally, at least.”
As he said that, Tozzulo returned, carrying with him two small, metal containers, the contents of which sloshed around as he moved. Approaching the container, he fiddled around with the keypad again, bringing down the orange barrier just long enough to toss the canteens in before he brought it back up. “There you go,” he said, tossing them in. “Don’ drink it all too fast; that’s the last of the drinkin’ water on my ship, so that’s all ya’re gettin’, at least until we land. Is there anythin’ else I can do for ya ‘fore I leave ya be?”
There were a few seconds of silence as the two ponies considered his question. Aside from smart-alec responses, though, Les Paul couldn’t think of anything too immediate. That being the case, he gave a weak shrug. Seeing this, Tozzulo began to, for the final time, use the number pad. As he was about to press the final key, Lyra spoke up. “Mister Tozzulo...sir?” she asked unsurely. “Could you answer one final question?”
“Only if ya don’ call me ‘Mister’ or ‘sir’ again,” Tozzulo answered. “I hate titles.”
“Sorry,” she apologized quickly, then got to her question. “What’s going to happen to us?”
Tozzulo hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “I ‘onestly don’ know. Hm, ya’ve figured out by now that I’m goin’ ta sell you. I ‘ave a buyer in mind on Coruscant, a friend’a mine who does the same sort’a stuff I do, only less explorin’ and more sellin’. As for what he does with ya, I imagine he’s gonna sell ya off ta someone else, and I can’t really say what they’d want ta do with ya.” With another, but this time much more exaggerated, shrug, he reiterated, “So like I said, I don’t know. Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all,” she replied weakly.
No further words were exchanged as Tozzulo finally sealed up to container. The orange barrier dissipated as the box closed, shutting out nearly all of the light as it did so. The only illumination was the faint light coming through the holes in the side of the box.
“I’m scared,” Lyra said after a few minutes of silence. “Why did this have to happen, and why did it have to be us? I don’t know what’s going on or what’s going to happen, and I have no control over either, and it just...ugh, it just frustrates me. And that...that scares me. And I miss mommy.”
“I do too, Lyra.” He began to tenderly rub her shoulder. “I’m scared, just as you are, and for the same reasons. But right now is not the time to succumb to our fears; the toughest part of this is yet to come, I fear. For now, all we can do is keep a level head and look out for each other.”
A level head. If he was right, and worse was to come, then the thirty hours Tozzulo said they had needed to be spent preparing, mostly mentally, as there wasn’t much either of them could do physically at the moment. Her day had only been few hours long now, but already Lyra felt expended. Getting rest would be a good first step for levelling herself.
And so she began to doze. Sleep didn’t come easy, though, as she thought subconsciously of her mother. But finally, after several minutes of wrestling with her musings, she fell into a light slumber, tucked into the warmth of her father’s embrace.
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I'm feeling rather... Conflicted. I want to hate this guy for kidnapping Lyra and Les Paul, but he's being so... Not really nice, but that's the closest word I can think of, to them.
I'm getting this horrible, sinking feeling that it'll only get worse from here...
Good job, either way.
Write on,
Legion
3910928
well it is only logical that he treats the two more or less good. as said: damaged goods make fewer creds right?
Well that being said... I would've tried to get my exotic lifeforms a little bit more effective then using plain stupid droids.
Electroshocks are so much more effective.... and lego already knows of specific accesoires I would use to keep my stock in check roundstable.com/forums/images/smilies/evil.png
Hah good work Legofriend fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/365/e/0/clapping_pony_icon___queen_chrysalis_by_taritoons-d5pshyl.gif
3911962 'Plain stupid droids' would be the regular B-1 and B-2 battle droids the Spes use; Tozzulo has his hands on IG-86 assassin droids, which are much more intelligent, albeit much more capable/willing of/to killing.
Also note that Tozzulo's job is just to sell his goods; the breaking comes later and by others.
3548726 I know that this is an old comment, but I'm gonna reply anyways.
I can't help but laugh at your profile pic; I can really see Lyra giving me that f-you for putting her through this story
.
3912954
and there is the problem^^'
I like Droids more made for specific roles, like Astro or medi- ones
esp. in Star wars it is not a good thing to not delete the memory cores regulary...
beside, I heard esp. the IG-86 Series is full of design and priogramming flaws....(ok ask my GM and EVERY Droid just wants to kill...err, me
)
Ok ok you have that point with breaking later. Given that it depends to who you sell the goods.(and because flying-T knows to whom it goes, ok no extra work^^)
I maybe should just sit back, shut up and enjoy the ride right?Ok.
3914915 Yeah, IG-86 droids still aren't great, but undeniably better than B-1's, B-2's, and heck, maybe even B-X's. They're a huge step down from the HK droids the preceded them, but hey, you've got to go through the IG-86's before you can get to the IG-88's, eh?
Which then begs the question as to why IG-88 is so popular.
3914935
Hmm I don't know why... maybe it is cheap enough^^
I still think all IG models use Win ME or Vista. and are programmed by blakists, beware if yxou ever have an thermal detonator in reach or worse, pocket nukes....