Logbook entry

Tea or Death?

14 Dec 2023Lambast Mercy
Waiting on the pad with the marks file in hand, he watched his operative disembark, walking down the boarding ramp sheepishly. And so he should, he’d fucked an easy kill and lost the company a lot of credits, not to mention damaged the company’s reputation. It was a simple elimination job, and according to the operative's back-up team, he had managed to access the mark’s ship without triggering intruder alarms and counter measures.

Watch Dog said the operative had been on board with the target for almost an hour, after which he disembarked that ship very much like he was leaving his own right now.

“A lone woman, almost forty years old that was on her liner after a very, very long cycle of jumping. Good chance she was in deep sleep when you got on board, so why the fuck isn’t she dead?”

The assassin rubbed the back of his neck. Of course the boss was waiting for him on the pad. As if a black mark on his tally wasn’t bad enough, now he had to have a public dressing down. Still, at least he wasn’t anywhere near that woman now.

“To be fair, she is ex-navy, ex-military with an impressive kill count” The boss didn’t look impressed “Sir” added the assassin with a salute.

“Yeah? Well so are you, and your count is bigger than hers. And she hasn’t seen action in over 10 years. So why is she alive? Explain it to me, did she get the drop on you?”

“Er, sort of”

“Sort of? What the fuck do you mean sort of? Watch Dog says you were on board right next to her, and you didn’t even pull a knife”

“Well, she caught me in the galley with a cup of tea” explained the assassin without meeting the boss's eyes. He pressed his thumbs together to distract himself from the dirty look he was getting.

“Tea? What the fuck were you doing making tea when your meant to be killing the cock-sucking pilot. You don’t even like tea?”

“Oh no, she had the tea, two cups. One each” The blank expression assassin was getting from his boss, and silence encouraged him to fill the unconfutable gap.

“So I was making my way to her cabin through the captain's personal galley, when she was suddenly behind me. With tea”

The mercenary commander looked at his operative the same way a mother looks at her child when she is completely done with its excuses. Now, he was both confused and angary.

“So, she threatened you with a warm beverage and you, what? Just gave up?”

“Yes. Well no, not right away. First, she asked me if I’d like a cup of tea” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth.

Killing people was easy, and explaining why he hadn’t killed people had never been much of a challenge either. This was new ground for both the assassin and his boss.

“She asked you if you would like a cup of tea?” repeated the mercenary commander with monotoned menace.

“Er, it was the way she asked sir. You know, from right behind me in a narrow galley. There is no way I could have missed her, but there she was like my shadow saying, ‘Would you like a cup of tea’ And I just knew she was really asking me, ‘Tea or Death?’

The Assassin visibly shuddered remembering the incident. He was an expert bugler, unparalleled when it came to stealthy incursions. No one had ever managed to sneak up on him, yet in a ship's kitchen so narrow he could touch both walls with his fingers, the mark had managed to get behind him.

Her voice had entered his ears like icy fingers that gently stroked down his neck, along his spine, then reached into his body and froze the air in his lungs.

Between the choice of tea and a short but painful trip to oblivion, the assassin would choose horrible bitter leaf-water every time, even though he was a coffee guy.

“So .. I chose tea”

The commander blinked a few times then scrolled through the mark's images on his file. An older white-haired woman looked back at him in some of the images. She was so skinny you could call her gaunt. Not piratically tall. She was armed in many of the images with a short narrow sword about as threatening as long cutlery. Then he looked at the operative he had sent to kill the woman.

Lean and well-muscled. Again, not piratically tall for a guy, but tall enough, and in his stealth armour he had enough shoulder to look strong and capable. His cold gray eyes had seen a lot, and he could see a lot more, enough to break the mind of a normal man, but it wouldn’t even break a sweat on this guy. So why was the target not dead?

“I send you to kill a middle-aged spinster, and she incapacitates you with a cup of tea, then lets you go. Walk me through that will you?”

“It wasn’t just tea, there were cookies too”

“C-cookies?” repeated the commander ready to draw his pistol and shoot the assassin right now.

“Yeah, but she called them biscuits. We went to her parlor, and she offered me cookies to go with the tea while she explained why braking to people's ships is wrong”

“Right right, I get it now. She had a gun on you, and you didn’t have a choice. Why didn’t you say so. Man, why did she let you go?”

“Um, because I.. .. learned my lesson sir, and said .. .. Sorry. There, there was no.. Gun”

“No gun?” said the commander, his hands dropping to his sides.

“No sir.. I think she had a nighty.. On, I mean. She had a nighty on. There was definitely lace involved” Offered the assassin.

The commander turned on the spot without saying another word and went back to his office.
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