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Thread: These Old Roads

  1. #1
    Cam Montegue
    Guest

    Closed Thread These Old Roads

    As he watched his brother shoulder his way through the crowd, Cambrio Montegue wondered just how much it would cost him to convince Vittore to let him tag along. He didn't have many credits to his name but Vitt was always willing to trade in favors; a few offers to cover a bluff or take weapons duty off his hands for a week or so would definitely be enough to make the older boy at least consider the idea of dragging his geek kid brother with him on what was supposed to be his first real solo job. Vittore was only just reaching the transport ship, bag on one shoulder and a cocky swagger colouring his walk, and would probably hear him if he yelled loud enough. Cam could do it, right now, run after him and beg him, convince him that he wouldn't be any trouble at all, that he'd be the best freaking right-hand man ever and chicks loved that didn't they, a guy in charge? Vitt'd be able to play big man on campus and they'd eat that dren up.

    Oh who was he kidding? They'd spent the last month bickering over every conceivable slight possible, thinking up new and terrible ways to exact revenge on one another for perceived injustices and bringing new meaning to the old fraternal territorial wars. Cam sighed and slumped against a ticket dispenser as his brother boarded, the worn black of his jacket disappearing into the depths of the ship. He watched as the last push of passengers surged up the ramp behind the older boy, watched as the doors sealed shut and final call announcements boomed through the bay loudspeakers, watched the flare of the engines warming up as the pilot went through the pre-flight procedure. He watched as his last chance at escape groaned into the sky, made painstaking work of navigating the poorly-directed intake zone, and stood watching as it soared off, until the vessel was just a black dot in the atmosphere and then, seconds later, wasn't visible at all.

    A heavy feeling settled in the pit of his belly; despair? dread? One of those ominous and vaguely melodramatic emotions that any Montegue worth his salt was immune to. This was so stupid. It was only a week. Seven standard days and then everything would get back to normal. He didn't even like his brother right now, anyway.

    Cam scowled at his girlish moping and shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, threading his way out of the terminal and back out onto the street. It was almost noon and the lunchtime crowds had streamed out of the imposing buildings that lined the city square. Impatient voices collided with the sounds of merchants and food vendors waxing poetic about their wares, the clank of metal on metal and the sizzle of meat hitting hot pans accompanying an occasional laugh or squawk that wormed it's way through the cacophony and tied it all together. Junction City was a bustling melting pot of activity; he would be glad to leave it behind.

    Four blocks at a brisk pace later brought him to his destination. Cambrio pushed open the door of Elroy's Surplus and was immediately assaulted by a high-pitched, excited squeal.

    "Cam! Hi!" Annelor waved at him from behind the counter, practically diving across it in her eagerness to attract his attention. Cam winced inwardly. Fantastic.

    "Hey Annelor. How're you?" He tried to keep his voice as level as possible, praying she wouldn't infer any interest in his tone. The Theelin girl was undeniably pretty, big brown eyes and blindingly purple hair that shimmered against her golden-flecked skin; she was also desperately in love with a guy who probably didn't even remember her name.

    Annelor glanced over Cam's shoulder, trying to make it a casual move. "So, where's your brother?"

    Oh great. Another opportunity to run interference for his whatever promises Vitt had rattled off to make this poor chick swoon. Cam's jaw clenched. He shrugged. "He had to take off early, there was a work emergency." Ignoring the crestfallen look on Annelor's face, Cam forged on. "Anyway I just came to check and see if our supply order came in? It was supposed to be in today."

    "Oh. Oh lemme just... lemme look it up." Annelor bit her lip and blinked rapidly as she tap-tapped at a display screen mounted by the register. Oh hell, was she going to cry? "Looks like it's here. Wow, that's a big order; is your dad coming by to load it up?" Jeepers, had her eyes glimmered when she said that? Ugh. The idea that any female, let alone Annelor who was only a few years older than Cam, could find his father attractive kind of made him want to throw up all over himself and die.

    Thoroughly disgusted, Cam shook his head. "Nah, I'm supposed to haul it back."

    "By yourself?"

    "Yep."

    "That's gonna take you all afternoon, you know."

    "Probably."

    "...Okay." Annelor eyed him for a moment and then beckoned him to follow her to the back. Cam did, trailing her weaving hips down aisles stacked high with camping gear and the latest in vibroblade technology to a durasteel door on wide swinging hinges. She pushed it open and he stepped through to a huge warehouse. The shiny grated flooring was littered with stacks of crates, positioned haphazardly throughout the space. The organization --or lack thereof-- didn't make a lick of sense to Cam but apparently there was a system, because Ann marched confidently across the floor and stopped at a six-crate block. "Here it is. You just gotta sign for it."

    Cam stepped forward, eying the boxes with sullen resignation; he could already feel the dull ache that was bound to form in his arms from dragging the lot back to the Headhunter. A small kiosk off to the side of the shipment was flashing, waiting for an authorization signature. Cam briefly scanned the list of received items and then scrawled his initials, CEM, across the glowing screen. It took a moment to process before chirping it's acceptance.

    "Mon'egue!" His surname echoed in the warehouse and the teenager turned, breaking into a small grin when he saw who it was.

    "Well, well, it's the main man himself. What's happening, Elroy?" Cam greeted with genuine cheer. It was hard not to brighten when a bear of a man like Elroy was descending upon you, toothy smile (the only feature besides his eyes visible through his mess of hair and beard) almost as wide as his arms as they enveloped you in a hearty hug. Elroy barked a laugh and pounded on Cambrio's back with a huge palm before releasing him.

    "Long time, boyo, since you been 'ere! Was beginning t'think you'd all metcher match!" The man laughed again, his enormously generous belly jostling up and down, and squinted at the youngest Montegue. "Got taller. Again, y'bastard."

    Cam couldn't stop a proud smirk from dancing across his face. "I'm working on a galactic record - why else do you think we ordered so much from you, you old robber?"

    "Smartass. Is it just you then? Where's yer father?"

    "Back at the ship."

    Elroy nodded and glanced at the mountain of goods behind Cambrio. "That's a lot'o shit t'cart, even fer a giant like yerself. Y'wait an hour, I'll give ya a lift. Been wantin' t'ave a word with yer old man anyhows."

    Get in line, Cam thought dryly, glancing at Ann as she dutifully (lovingly?) surveyed their supplies. He scratched at the nape of his neck and toed the floor with a booted foot, considering the offer. An hour would make him late to check back in, which might irk his dad, but it would also mean that they could pack the cargo hold a lot faster, save time in the long run, and that was always a welcome (if rare) event. In the end it was the heat that made the choice for him; it was going to be a miserably tedious task to transport the supplies manually in the thick of midday humidity. Just the thought of cruising back to the ship in a temperature-controlled speeder was seven kinds of heaven. Cam nodded. "That would be awesome, Elroy. Thanks."

    "Don' mention it." Waving a burly palm in dismissal, Elroy whistled a couple of droids over and got them busy loading his personal transport with the Montegue's supply shipment. Cambrio didn't have to lift a finger. It was a nice break.

    It wasn't until they were well on their way to the Headhunter that Cambrio thought to ask Elroy what it was that he wanted talk to his dad about.

    "Oh," Elroy's eyes glanced sideways at the boy and then eased to the left as he shrugged in an overtly-casual manner. The speeder wrenched around a corner, narrowly missing a family of sheathed aliens exiting a synagogue, and whined as it's engines were gunned, pressed to their limit. "A lil' job, s'all. Nothin' fancy. Nothin' fer you t'be worryin' about."

    Which was enough to ensure, of course, that he would.
    Last edited by Cam Montegue; May 25th, 2009 at 04:07:34 AM.

  2. #2
    Still nothing. Hugo leant back into his seat, hands rubbing across his tired features; scrubbing at his stubbled jaw. He was tired, his features even more drawn and haggared than usual. His latest lead had come up empty, and the meagre scattering of options left over to him was rapidly becoming depleated. No matter what he tried, this hunt was becoming close to impossible: after sixteen years, near enough, her trail was colder than Eredenn in winter.

    Hugo sighed. Sending Vittore off on his own had been to get him out of the way; give him some time alone to follow up the last few leads. He'd been hoping that Vitt would drag Cambrio along as well, but apparently the siblings were at one of the animosity stages of their ever-changing relationship. Hugo almost allowed himself to believe that Cam had weighed up the options and chosen staying with his father over tailing his brother, but in truth he knew that things weren't nearly so simple. Maybe he could use this time to try and patch things up between them; maybe later, once he'd found her; once he'd put that demon to rest.

    Cambrio's unfortunate presence made for complications. Somewhat more savvy than his elder sibling, having him around the ship would inevitably lead to him discovering far too much about what Hugo was up to; far to much about the secret, about her. Hugo wasn't ready to allow that; not yet. Hence the solo expedition to Elroy's. Cambrio would hate him, but it'd just just one more of a long line of things that Hugo would have to make amends for later, once this quest was over and they could go back to being a family.

    Speaking of expeditions, Cambrio was late. His senses had been on alert for sounds of his approach, but he hadn't heard so much as a whisper this entire time; Cam hadn't even turned up with a single crate. There were a few explainations; maybe the kid was digging his heels in, some sort of rebellion against his instructions. It wouldn't be unwarranted, but Hugo would still have to blaster him about it later; Cambrio would be suspicious if he didn't.

    Across the cockpit, something chimed; external motion sensors, alerting him of something on approach. He haulled his body reluctantly to standing, and peered through the cockpit. Even at this range, Hugo could recognise the familiar, beat-up cargo skiff that Elroy bombed around the planet in. He couldn't help a smile. Damn kid and his initiative.

    Returning to the computer terminal to carefully hide his latest wave of research in the encrypted depths of the ship's computer, he grabbed the blaster that had been resting within easy reach, and jammed it back into the holster. He paused for a few beats, taking the time to reinforce the signature half-scowl on his features and, with the same reluctance that gripped him every day of his life, made for the cargo ramp to go play the part of the gruff, unshakeable bastard that everyone expected him to be.

  3. #3
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Elroy was stubbornly stiff-lipped about the details of whatever this job of his was, despite the fact that Cambrio kept up a running interrogation the entire way. Cam had watched people his entire life and he was good at reading them, all the little signs and tells that they didn't think to mask because he was a kid, just a kid, and wouldn't notice. As if age had anything to do with it.

    Studying the man beside him with narrowed eyes, Cam decided that he was worried. Not about the hunt itself or making the offer of it; Elroy would have been more twitchy if that were true, nerves betraying him with physical manifestations. This was a different tack entirely. His shoulders were hunched protectively and he kept shooting these soft-eyed glances Cam's way when he thought he wasn't looking. No, Cam mused, he's worried about me hearing about this.

    It was one of the trader's quirks that he found both endearing and eternally frustrating. No matter how many bounties they cashed in on between fuel ups - and there were usually more than a few, the galaxy was filled with creatures both terrible and awesome that wanted roasting - Elroy couldn't seem to shake his perception that Vittore and Cambrio were innocent young men who didn't need to be bothered with the harsher truths. How he'd come to that conclusion in the first place was still a mystery. Endor knew they certainly hadn't done anything to perpetuate the myth.

    Frell, just the opposite; at eight, nine times out of ten, Cambrio could hit a target dead-centre from thirty feet. He hadn't been innocent since the day he'd been old enough to hold a blaster.

    Rolling his eyes, Cambrio let the matter rest for a few moments. They were approaching the Headhunter and already he could make out a blurry figure in the distance, descending her ramp; Dad.

    "You do realize," Cam's eyes remained fixed on Hugo as he unconsciously slouched a bit in the passenger seat, jaw set mulishly. "That if he takes it, I'm going too? It's not like it's gonna be a big secret, Elroy."

    Elroy grunted but didn't take the bait. The transport eased down a gear, thrumming lowly as the acceleration dropped. Before it could come to a complete stop, Cambrio vaulted himself over the side, let one hand trail along the dusty paneling as he cast a stealthy glance at his father. He found himself glowering in response to the man's own expression.

    Without waiting for word to, Cambrio let down one of the safety guards along the skiff's side and dragged a box over the edge. The sudden weight of it caught him off-guard and his arms dropped, almost took him down for a dirt buffet before he rebalanced and steadied his grip. Stupid growth spurt; it had left him with three inches of extra limb that he hadn't yet acclimated to and he was always tripping now, stumbling around like a newborn nek.

    Elroy squeezed himself out of the pilots seat with an 'oof' and Cam jerked his head in the man's direction as he stalked past his father with the cargo crate, blowing sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. "Wants to talk to you about some job." He let the box drop next to the ships ramp. "Won't tell me a damn thing."

    "That's 'cause yer not 'im." Elroy shook his head and appraised Hugo with a delighted grin and sharp eye. "You look like th'backend of a bantha, Mon'egue. 'S'an improvement."
    Last edited by Cam Montegue; May 25th, 2009 at 06:40:17 AM.

  4. #4
    "You've put on weight," Hugo observed, and kept his expression tightly controlled, battering away all but the slightest wisper of the grin that tried to assault his face. Elroy made it damned hard to seem grizzled and stoic at times. "What did you do: swallow a Huttling or something?"

    Elroy unleashed a hearty chuckle that threatened to melt its way through even Hugo's stubborn defenses. No matter how many times he met the guy, Hugo hadn't managed to develop a callous against that sound; which was a relief, in truth. It was good to know that there was still something inside him that could feel emotions beyond remorse, anger, bitterness. He let his smile grow, lopsided, venting some of the warmth inside him that wanted to errupt into his expression. "What've you got for me, Roy?"

    The jovial expression drained from his face, though Elroy managed to keep his smile in place, well enough to fool anyone viewing from a distance. "Mind if we talk inside, Hugh?"

    Hugo's brow tugged into a frown. "If it's about a job," he countered, a little testily, "Then you can say it in front of my kid."

    The arms dealer's eyes held his gaze steady, responding with a slow shake of the head. "Not with this one," he muttered, ominously. "Lets talk inside."

    * * *

    The door of the cabin closed with a hiss; one of the only spaces on the ship that could be shut and locked. The Coromon Headhunter had four such spaces, each one of them given over to a member of the Montegue family: one for Hugo, one for Vittore, one for Cambrio -

    "What's this about, Elroy?" Hugo asked, his voice tight. His mind raced, trying to reach the answer before it had a chance to be revealed. The secrecy didn't bode well; there weren't many things that Elroy would decide needed to be spoken of in private. Maybe it was personal; was Elroy in trouble, and needed Hugo's help? Gangs maybe? Black Sun? All kinds of lowlifes inhabited a place like this, leeching off everyone else because they were disinclined to earn a living for themselves. They usually fell outside Hugo's speciality, but on this occasion he was willing to make an exception. Elroy was family, and besides; most of the scum such gangs employed barely qualified as sentient.

    That didn't seem to fit, though. Elroy was concerned, sure, but about the job itself, not for his own wellbeing. What could it be, then? Maybe a new lead? Maybe news about her -

    "Its Victor."

    Not her. Hugo's heart sank. It sank lower when his brain grasped what he'd actually been told. One for Hugo. One for Vittore. One for Cambrio. And one for Victor. It had been years since he'd seen his brother; since he'd left him behind. They'd been working a job, same as always - something pretty routine; a Shapeshifter, if he recalled correctly, though such details had been blurred into the background. They'd been stalking their quarry when it had gone to ground, taking refuge inside what seemed to be an abandoned supply depot, disused since the Clone Wars. Looks turned out to be decieving though, just as they were with their mark. The Clawdite had friends, or at least enemies of their enemies; a band of pirates who called the depot home, and didn't take kindly to the intrusion from two sibling hunters. Carnage had errupted; in the ensuing firefight, Victor had taken a hit and gone down. Hugo had fled, desperate to survive and get back to his sons, and had left Victor there. Logic told him that the smoking hole in his brother's chest precluded any chance of a miraculous recovery, but his subconscious - and the truth, it seemed - had thought otherwise.

    Elroy offered a grim smile. "He's been sighted; I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen the security footage for myself."

    Staring towards the floor, Hugo's eyes were blank. His bother; after all this time. He could find him. Make amends. He had to; he'd already lost enough to the abnormal, bastard freaks of the galaxy. The chance to pull one of their victims back from the brink was too sweet a victory to ignore. His eyes rose to Elroy, slowly. "Where is he?"

    "You're not going to like -"

    Hugo growled. "Where is he?"

    A sigh, and Elroy's shoulders slumped. "He's on Nar Shaddaa," he said eventually. "Looks like he's managed to land himself in the middle of one of the Hutt-run gangs out there, as some kind of enforcer." He winced uncomfortably, and a hand shot out to grab Hugo's shoulder. "Now listen -"

    "I'm going to find him." There was an edge in Hugo's voice, and a threat in the glaring eyes he turned on Elroy. "Don't try and stop me."

    A slight quirk of a smile flashed on Elroy's features. "Just be careful, alright? Don't go getting yourself killed."

    Hugo flashed one back. "You worried about me, Elroy?"

    Elroy recoiled in mock surprise. "Hell no." He grinned. "I just don't want you dying before you get around to paying me back for all the merchandise you keep 'borrowing'."

  5. #5
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    One of the many injustices aboard the family ship was the fact that, while Hugo's and the spare (as the boys had started to think of it) quarters were both completely soundproof, making them impervious to eavesdropping, neither Cam nor Vitt's room had been afforded such a luxury. It was just another imbalance on the scale of Montegue hierarchy, he supposed, but it was also damn inconvenient, especially when something major was afoot. Like now.

    Cambrio hovered outside the cabin door. It was useless - not even a muffled hum of conversation could escape the reinforced plating - but the teenager couldn't just let it go easily. Whatever Elroy knew was important and he didn't appreciate being shut out of the sharing circle. It was bound to affect him just as much as his father. He wondered if it would do any good to pound on the door with a fist, get their attention and demand to be let in; probably not. Cam frowned, let the growing frustration in his chest bubble and spit before pulling it back and doing an abrupt about-face. He banged down the ramp and back to the skiff, where the last of the cargo was waiting to be unloaded.

    Secrets. As if they didn't already have enough of those, like his entire life wasn't a freaking series of classified mysteries and poorly-constructed lies. It was one thing to toss out ridiculous aliases on a job, sneak into restricted areas to pilfer private information; that was illegal, sure, but it wasn't half as blatantly frustrating as the cloak-and-dagger policy that seemed inclusive to being a member of his family. Cambrio didn't even know who his own mother was, for crying out loud, the woman who'd brought him into this galaxy. How frelled up was that?

    An angry snort of air flared out of his nostrils as he heaved another of the awkward crates out. He was tired of secrets. Hell, he was tired of all of it. The constant and unceasing travel, all of them stuck on the ship for weeks at a time while Dad's driven power and obsession with destroying every evil he could hunt down dictated an endless schedule of ruthless training and thorough research to find and annihilate the things that haunted the night. It was no way to live. It wasn't normal. It wasn't fair.

    Cam realized he was maybe taking his anger out on the load a little more than was necessary when he let the last box drop roughly to the ground. A loud crack sounded and he flinched, leaned down to peer at the source of the sound; thick, metallic-silver liquid was sluggishly leaking from the bottom of the crate. Shit. He straightened hurriedly and darted into the Headhunter for a crowbar to pry open the casing.

    One of the backup external generators for the ship's laser cannon was split along a side, oozing it's innards all over the place, including the other weapons inside. Wincing, Cam gingerly extracted a rifle and set it on top of one of the other containers, set it's twin beside it and two more smaller blasters alongside that; he'd clean them later. There weren't any perishables inside the crate, which was a small miracle as they'd most certainly not have been recoverable from the gooey mess. Practiced eyes swept over the damaged part glumly; the Montegue's were good at patching things up, jimmying busted specs with nothing more than spit, elbow grease and ingenuity, but one look at this and he knew it was hopeless. It was a loss, right up front. Excellent. Well, at least it hadn't been one of the weapons.

    He was suddenly aware that he could now hear Elroy's voice, falsely jovial, and he rubbed his palms down the side of his trousers to wipe them clean before heading back up the ship. He met the two men with a suspicious expression, arched an eyebrow in question.

    "Right. I'm off." Elroy clapped Cambrio on the shoulder affectionately before bringing his large hand up to muss his shaggy hair. "Try'n stay outta trouble, Cammy, and tell yer brother that he sleeps with another of my employees, I'll shoot 'im." Without waiting for a word from the boy, the grizzled old trader headed back to his skiff. Cam watched him go and then turned to his father, crossing his arms over his chest.

    "So?" He demanded, eyes sharp. "What the hell was that all about?"
    Last edited by Cam Montegue; May 30th, 2009 at 04:17:01 AM.

  6. #6
    Hugo felt a scowl trying to tug at his features, irritation grating against his nerves. Damn it son, his subconscious hissed, When'd you become such a mardy bitch? He blamed himself of course, for everything that had happened to his sons, not just this. It was his fault that Vittore was busy trying to fuck his way around the galaxy; his fault that Cambrio was too much of his father's son to shut up, finish his studies, and keep his nose out of the family business. He blamed himself, and accepted full responsibility, but still: it didn't stop Cambrio from being an annoying, whiny bitch at times.

    He bit down on a retort to that effect, though. He could chew out Cambrio later; right now he needed to keep the kid happy, and out of the way. If Victor was on Nar Shaddaa, it'd be dangerous; he'd need to go alone, without Cambrio slowing him down. Sure, the kid was good, but there was a difference between gunning down the occasional Sand Wyrm and taking on the seedy, crime infested depths of the Hutt Moon.

    "Nothing for you to worry about," he insisted, but he could see from Cambrio's expression - eerily like his own - that such platitudes wouldn't fly. It had been so much easier when his kids had been younger, and still at that wonderful stage where they'd do what they were damn told by their father. He sighed, resolve slipping. "Its nothing major. Elroy just needs me to run an errand for him. Imperial taxes are clamping down on his profits, and some of his associates aren't too happy about the reduction in their own revenue."

    He faked a wince, as if relctant to disclose what Elroy had confided in him. Cambrio would buy it, hopefully: both of them knew how proud Elroy was, and the lengths he'd go to concealing his problems, even from himself. "He ain't as young as he used to be, but they won't see him unless he's alone. They agreed to let him send someone in his place, so I'm goin'." He offered his son a tight smile of reassurance. "Don't worry, Cam; I can handle a few thug punks. Shouldn't be gone more'n a week."

  7. #7
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Cam studied Hugo suspiciously, squinting at him like he was some kind of science experiment that was getting ready to render a disastrous result any moment now. It was clear that his father was hiding something, which, okay, was admittedly par for the course; but the way he was trying to pass this off was out of sync with his normal MO. What was this buddy-buddy disclosure crap?

    The teenager held his dad's gaze for a long moment. Hugo didn't even flinch. Cam had to give the guy credit, he had one hell of a sabaac face. He sort of wanted to haul off and whale on it right now, but it was nonetheless impressive.

    And genetic, thank the stars. With a casual shrug - one just as neutral as Hugo's own banthashit story - Cam nodded. He could play this game too. Before he'd actually gotten a mind of his own and realized what a total dictator his dad was, Cam had worshiped the man. He'd been his personal shadow. It embarrassed the crap out of him now, but Cam'd learned a lot in those early years nipping at Hugo's heels, constantly asking why or what for or how come, all the while watching the man's reaction to every single query.

    "I'll go anyway," Cam replied bluntly, raising his chin in subtle challenge. "I'm not staying here for a week." His eyes narrowed. "If you can handle it, so can I."

  8. #8
    Damn it, kid, Hugo's brain hissed. Do as you're fucking told for once.

    Panic boiled up in him as well. He'd been relying on boredom and father-son animosity to prevent Cambrio from offering his own assistance; perhaps he'd misjudged his son's tenacity, and had made a mistake in not having a follow up excuse ready and prepared. He scrambled for one now; shouting the kid down was probably his best option, but even Cambrio didn't deserve that kind of preemptive discipline. Well, not all the time, anyhow. He considered employing sex as a weapon, but it was Vittore who couldn't keep it in his pants; Cam was practically a monk. Maybe a new lie - something bolder-faced than before? Would the prospect of him shacking up with some woman off-world be enough to put Cambrio off?

    Hugo hid his frustration from his face, masking it behind a confused frown. "And there was me thinkin' that you'd rather do anything but spend a week couped up in Hyperspace with you're old man." He shrugged, mustering a forged smile. "I appreciate the attempt at family bonding, Cam, but these guys are insisting that I come alone. These aren't the kind a' guys you wanna fuck about with; if they say solo, you damn well show up at the meeting solo."

  9. #9
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Ha. Lying bastard had just looped himself a noose. It wasn't enough to hang him, but it would at least trip him up some. Cam pounced on it.

    "So wait, lemme get this straight," He said in reasonably, tone belying the stiff, confrontational lines of his posture. Normally Cambrio saved his debate voice for special occasions, when he really wanted to highlight how offensively stupid Hugo or Vittore were being. The past couple of years however, had seen it's usage grow more and more frequent; hell, the last six months had practically been one long freaking celebration.

    "On the one hand," he spread a palm out, just in case Dad wasn't following him. "It's just 'a few punk thugs' that aren't going to be any trouble. On the other," Cambrio held out his other hand. "It's a shady mafia that aren't to be fucked with. Huh." The teenager frowned quizzically and weighed his hands, glancing back and forth between them. "Doesn't really add up, hey?

    "So Dad," Cambrio arched a brow and let a little sneer into his voice. "Which is it? Or are they 'shifters with split personalities?"
    Last edited by Cam Montegue; May 30th, 2009 at 04:12:35 AM.

  10. #10
    Hugo remembered a planet he'd once visited back in the day where children were considered the property of their parents until they reached adulthood, and thus weren't considered 'people' under the local law. There were times, like now, when Hugo wished he was a native of his planet. Then no one would bat an eye if he smashed that smug bastard face off his son, and buried him in a hole.

    He drew in a slow breath, calming himself. Apparently platitudes weren't working. Maybe insults next?

    "Truth is," he said with a sigh, "I don't want you to worry. Specifically, I don't want you tagging along. This could get real messy, real fast. One screw up with these guys, and you'll be a smoking corpse on the floor." He shook his head. "I don't want you tagging along. Not without Vittore there to keep you out of trouble. I'll have enough to worry about without having to keep half an eye on you the whole time as well."

  11. #11
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    "I don't need a fucking babysitter," Cambrio snarled, hackles rising at record speed. The notion that he required his big brother around to play, well, Big Brother, was so offensive that the boy couldn't even think properly for a moment, his thoughts blindsided by seething indignation. Vitt was the one who thought taking daredevil chances was cool. Vitt was the one who would instigate a fire fight if things weren't exciting enough for him. Cam kept his head down and his blaster up and paid attention and tried, damn it. Maybe his skill set wasn't as diverse or well-honed but frell, Vittore had two years and a willing soldier's attitude on him.

    I don't want you tagging along. It didn't get much blunter than that. Sometimes Cambrio wondered why the fuck his dad had even bothered to sire children; he seemed to spend most of his time regretting it.

    Why can't you throw me a line, here? Cam thought as he sucked in a pissed-off breath through his teeth. C'mon - don't be an ass. Don't be yourself.

    "You're lying, everything you've said since Roy left has been garbage! Something's going on and you don't want to say what because it's probably important and stars forbid you ever share anything of importance with your sons." He stabbed at his father's chest with an irate hand. "It's the same reason why you're always sending Vitt and me on stupid errands; so that you can hole up on the ship and do... whatever, and keep it secret."

    Cambrio shook his head, eyes alight with righteous fury. "You can't do this! You can't just feed us these crap stories and then take off and leave us behind and expect us to just accept it!"

  12. #12
    Hugo snarled, shoving Cambrio hard in the chest, backing him up against the hull of the Headhunter. Anger boiled over as he gripped his son by the scruff of his clothes, scowling face barely an inch away from his son. "You want the fucking truth, wiseass? Fine!"

    He shoved again, propelling himself a few paces away this time. Emotions battled over control of his expression, unadulterated anger wrestling with the inner turmoil, remorse, and guilt. "Your uncle," he started, his voice tight, volume still raised; he stopped himself, took a breath, and tried again. "Your uncle," he managed, voice cracking a little, "He never made it back with me from a mission twelve years ago. You remember?" He didn't bother waiting for clarification; the kids had probably been closer to Uncle Vic than they had been to their own father. He gripped tight on his resolve, spurring it into action. "He took a blaster bolt in the chest, and I saw him go down. Turns out -"

    His voice trailed off. He sighed, a slight laugh at the irony creeping into his voice. A hand ruffled through his hair, and when he turned back to his son there was a hint of shimmering moisture in his eyes. "Turns out it didn't kill him. Turns out that he survived. Turns out that I left him behind." He shook his head. Whatever platitudes had been offered to him over the years, that single fact was unforgivable. Hell, he'd dragged his brother into this in the first place. He'd always thought it was his fault he'd died; the fact that he'd abandoned him though was somehow worse.

    He straighened himself, fighting to restore his composure. "I need to go to Nar Shaddaa. I need to find him; rescue him. And damn it Cambrio; I need to do it alone. He's mixed up deep with the Hutts out there from the sound of it. I don't want this job, this life taking anymore of my family from me." He offered a slight smile, but there was no warmth or reassurance in the expression. "You and your brother make each other strong. You need each other; that's what makes you so damn good at what you do. If you found out you'd let Vittore down, left him behind -"

    He trailed off. There was no need to finish that sentiment. "I need to do this without you, Cammy."

  13. #13
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Uncle Vic was alive. What? Shock rippled through him and Cam stared at Hugo in open-mouthed surprise. His memories of his father's brother were vague, the specifics eaten up by time, but what he could recall invoked warm feelings of happiness and safety. Uncle Vic had possessed the uncanny ability to heal everyone around him... even Dad; the battered man had laughed and laughed when his brother was around. Everything was better when Uncle Vic was about.

    And then he simply hadn't been, sudden as flicking off a light. Dad hadn't laughed much, since.

    For a moment, Cam worried his lower lip, unable to think of anything to say. It was just as shocking, and a thousand times more disconcerting, to see his father struggling to keep his composure. Dad just didn't do the whole emoting bit. He played things pretty close to the vest and seeing him, hearing him, like this? Was definitely tearing at some childhood illusions. Namely that boys didn't cry (or get close) unless they were girls or had a stomach wound.

    Just as he was beginning to fear that he'd never be able to kickstart his mind again and would be mute forever, Hugo unconsciously steered the conversation back into familiar territory. Brothers. Cam understood the bond between brothers, that was for damn sure.

    He tried to imagine Vitt going down, dying, and walking away from him. Cambrio couldn't do it. Wouldn't.

    The slow burn of guilt in Hugo's voice almost made Cam wince. "I need to do this without you, Cammy."

    Cam shook his head. "But you can't, Dad." He replied quietly, the previous heated fervor vanished from his voice, "You said it yourself: me'n Vitt are weaker without each other. You and Uncle Victor, isn't that the same?" He brushed a hand through his hair, sweeping it off his forhead, and took a step away from the Headhunter, approaching Hugo like a wild animal with a wounded paw. "You're stronger when you're together?"

    The boy drew in a breath and held it for a beat before exhaling. "Look. I'm not trying to be deliberately stubborn. It's just... Dad, what if you need backup? What if your game is off because this isn't just a simple rescue mission?"

    "Vic's out, obviously. Vittore isn't here." Cam blinked and shrugged. "I'm what's left. It makes sense Dad."
    Last edited by Cam Montegue; May 30th, 2009 at 06:24:28 AM.

  14. #14
    I'm what's left. God, was that honestly how Cambrio thought of himself now: the last resort kid, that his father wouldn't rely on unless he had no other choice?

    Cambrio was the smart one. The sensitive one. He'd been the baby when this had all started. He still was the baby, as far as Hugo was concerned. That didn't make him any less capable of doing what needed to be done. On the contrary, Cambrio seemed to have taken it upon himself to outdo everyone around him whenever possible. When it came down to sheer dedication and commitment, he easily surpassed his brother. In a few years time, he'd be one hell of a hunter, and Hugo was proud beyond words about that; probably why he never bothered to mention it.

    Thing was, Hugo dragged his kids into this life. He'd tried to keep them out of it as best he could, spending the early days kicking around the galaxy with Victor. By the time Vittore was old enough to understand what was going on, Victor was gone; Vittore made a choice to follow in his footsteps. But Cammy didn't have that choice. He'd been dragged into it; forced to get involved as a last resort, the only way to have any kind of contact with his family aside from the fleeting visits, or during the prolongued space voyages on the odd occasions when they let him tag along.

    Hugo had fucked his family up royally. When it came to fathers, there weren't many who'd failed their sons as dramatically as he had, letting this obsession over their mother consume his life. He wanted to fix it. Desperately. But there was still business left unfinished; issues that he didn't dare tell his children about that needed to be put to rest. Maybe, when that was dealt with and out of the way, he could start trying to make up for the last fifteen years.

    Hell, a voice said inside his head. I guess I could always start now.

    A grunt escaped from Hugo's throat. He sighed dismissively at the notion Cambrio proposed, but in truth he couldn't have been more proud. Better not let the kid see it though; the way things were shaping up lately, if Hugo poured out any more sensitive crap, Cambrio would probably wind up becoming his daughter.

    "Fine," he muttered. "You can come. But you're going to do whatever I tell you, when I tell you, without any back-talk and bitching about it, y'hear? "

  15. #15
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    So long as you tell me the reasons behind your orders, instead of arbitrarily tossing 'em out there, Cam longed to counter. He didn't though. Not when his father's acceptance was so newly given and certainly not when the result was in his favor. It was a testament to how rare an event that was these days, that he swallowed back his terms and simply nodded.

    "Yeah. Yessir." A quick look of skepticism ghosted across Hugo's face and Cam bristled. "I will, Dad."

    Maybe this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Maybe if he proved to his dad that he and Vitt weren't kids anymore, that they were capable of handling shit (and had been for ages now), the man would open up a bit and relax his need-to-know-only policy. Besides being needlessly restrictive, Cam knew that whatever Hugo was hiding weighed heavily on the man, was aging him much quicker than the (admittedly) backbreaking task of raising two teenage boys in this frelled up galaxy.

    Cam glanced at the shipment crates, calculating. "I can have the stuff loaded in an hour. We can leave early." He frowned. "What about Vitt? He's expecting us t'meet him and if we're late," A completely rational scenario that they had to entertain, "He'll flip. I should buzz him."

  16. #16
    An hour. Damn it; he hadn't wanted to wait that long. Still, if this trip was going to work at all, he'd have to trust his son to do the tasks he assigned, at his own pace and in his own way. Couldn't be constantly looking over his shoulder; that kind of distraction would probably get them both killed.

    So, he simply nodded. One hour it is. "Don't worry about Vittore," he added, scrubbing a hand across his thickly stubbled jaw. "I'll shoot Elroy a wave; get him to handle things. If memory serves, there's a certain young lady who'd apparently be more than happy to keep Vitt company until we arrive."

    He looked at Cambrio; saw the effort he was putting in to toeing the line, just this once. He wanted to smile - that proud, father smile, that was saved for pretty much any time that a child did something remotely praiseworthy. Hugo Montegue didn't get to use that smile very often; his reputation wouldn't allow it.

    This was one of those times he realised, the reluctance to admit that forming a cold pit in his stomach. When Victor's back, he promised himself. One last challenge, and he'd start making them a family again.

    * * *

    Hugo grunted his way through the pre-flight checks; checked the fuel pressure, the charge in the power cells, Hyperdrive status, navicomputer function, targetting systems, life support viability; the works. Everything was, well, fine frankly. Whenever they landed on Junction, Elroy swung by to play mechanic, so system faults barely made it a few weeks before they were pounced on. Those that cropped up between visits were usually tinkered with by Cambrio, usually with a few stealth modifications that fudged with the default settings; ordinarily Hugo would have been annoyed, but damn it, the ship usually worked better afterwards. The status quo worked out just fine; the only way of guarenteeing that the ship stayed in better shape was to actually hire a qualified mechanic to stay aboard permenantly, and frankly both Cambrio and Elroy would probably have gutted him for letting someone else userp their hobby.

    He sensed Cambrio entering the cockpit. He'd like to have pretended that he'd maybe unlocked some sort of latant Force potential - which would be one hell of an asset in their line of work, frankly - but in truth it was his more routine senses that did the work; namely his ears, picking up on the way that Cammy's feet scuffed along the deck as he walked. He glanced up, catching his son's reflection as he settled down in the System Operator seat - the stay out of the fucking way and don't touch anything chair, as Victor had referred to it on occasion. Back when they'd been younger, and the kids had insisted on 'helping out' to somehow evade their assigned bedtime for a few minutes, Cam had always been relegated to S/O, while Vittore bagged the Gunner's seat. Since Victor had been gone, Vittore had adopted his place as Co-Pilot, but Cambrio still remained where he'd always been. Maybe he figured he'd get yelled at for moving without permission. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe that seat was just damn comfy. Hugo couldn't be sure; he'd never bothered to ask, either. That was more Victor's thing.

    A heart-to-heart not really being his thing, Hugo decided to hide behind the more familiar cover of a white lie that sounded reasonably convincing. "Give me a hand with the pre-flights, will you, Cam?" he called over his shoulder, casually as he could.

  17. #17
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Stowing away all the gear had entailed a lot more than he'd expected, mostly because the Headhunter's cargo bay had been a bit of a mess. It was always so when they reached the tail end of their supplies; the free space got taken over by he and Vitt and they'd rig it up to fit it their latest obsession. A few cycles ago it had been Tahlboorean pole fighting, a hobby that was quickly snuffed out when Cam, always tripping over his massive feet, had taken the blunt end of a staff to the eye and subsequently wallowed through a week of fleeting blindness.

    This time the brother's had settled on something less dangerous: a pazaak tournament that,thus far, had cost Cam fifty credits and a months worth of his brother's chores. He'd had to clear away the small table and card decks, then pick up the pile of overturned ration packs that were scattered everywhere (they made great missiles for hurling at dirty rotten cheats) before he could do any unloading. Finally he managed to put everything up, organizing it in order of use and importance, enough so that neither he nor Hugo would have to do much searching if they needed something specific.

    Grabbing one of the hand blasters he'd messed up earlier and a cleaning kit, Cam shuffled into the cockpit, dropping into his seat automatically. There was a nice Cambrio-shaped groove to the padding by now, and he settled there comfortably, opening up the kit and laying out supplies on his lap. The goop from earlier had hardened into a tacky paste on the body of the weapon; it was going to take forever to clean.

    Sighing in resignation, Cam worked at unscrewing the plating from the blaster. He was only half-cognizant of his father busying himself in the pilot's seat; it was familiar background noise and, though he'd never admit it, was relaxing in a tried-and-true sort of way. He'd sat here often enough as a kid, watching while Dad navigated them from system to system, sometimes reading or drawing but never going beyond the role of casual observer.

    Which was why, when Hugo called to him, Cam jerked up in startled uncertainty. He stared for a full minute at the back of Dad's chair, waiting for him to say something else. Nothing. Just an expectant, waiting silence.

    "... Why?" Cambrio asked hesitantly, wavering in his seat. He never helped pilot the Headhunter, ever. That was Vittore's bag. A sudden horrified thought occured to him and Cam felt his stomach twist; he'd been toying around with the navsystem earlier, adjusting it's automatic course mapping function - an easy enough task but he'd been a little pissed, irritated with his brother and the galaxy at large; had he frelled it up? "Is something wrong?"

  18. #18
    "Vittore's not here," he said simply, throwing what he hoped was a non-committal shrug. "Sure, I can fly the 'hunter solo, "But its a hell of a lot easier with two." He hesitated, his thoughts tripping over excuses as they rushed to slip out of his mouth before his defenses had a chance to shut them up. The struck a compromise, twisting the truth into something he could hide behind. "Besides, if you're gonna be my backup, I need t'know that I can rely on you to do anything that's needed. That includes flying us the hell out of there if anything goes wrong."

    The logic was sound, but the truth was more personal. Frankly, it'd take one hell of an injury to make Hugo feel like he wasn't capable of flying the ship himself. That left only two real situations where that might crop up: unconscious Hugo, or dead Hugo. In either case, he wanted to make damn sure that his son would be able to get himself out of there alive, even if that meant leaving Hugo behind to the same fate as his brother. In his mind, a voice hissed in annoyance. Just come sit in the damn chair, Cam.

    With obvious suspicion, the boy settled down beside his father, and obligingly began to run through the same series of checks that Hugo had already confirmed himself. It was redundant of course, and Cambrio would probably know he'd have run them himself already, and would no doubt think he was being tested, spied upon, or some such. But that didn't matter to Hugo right now. This was the closest to a normal father-son relationship that the two of them had been in, well, longer than Hugo could remember, really. I'm teaching my son to fly, Hugo realised, that whistful dad-pride cropping up again. He fought down the associated smile, but let the warmth linger in his gut for a few minutes longer.

    Cambrio announced his completion of the assigned task; he seemed a little wary and suspicious still as he announced that everything checked out with no problems. Hugo made a point to quickly dismiss the aknowledgement without any pomp and circumstance; just accept Cam's status report as if it was an undisputable fact, in the hopes that the kid would stop acting so damn twitchy about it all. This is no big deal, Cam, Hugo thought to himself. Just nice and routine. That lie coiled in his stomach like a viper; this really was a big deal, at least as far as the father was concerned.

    To try and quell his anxiety - and bolster Cambrio's confidence - Hugo reached down beside him, and grabbed the release handle on the pilot's seat. With a push of his legs he slid the chair a good two feet backwards across the deck plates, before releasing the handle and allowing the clamps to lock back in place. He held his hands out in front of him, demonstrating that the flight controls were out of his reach. "She's yours from here to Hyperspace," he said simply battering down against the anxious and excited fluttering of his heartbeat. He allowed the slightest hint of a reassuring smile to slip past his emotional mask. "You have control, son."

  19. #19
    Cam Montegue
    Guest
    Cambrio blinked. His eyebrows made a break for his hairline as he looked from his father to the controls and back again. This wasn't computing. He didn't understand. What? It was like one of those old timey hustling holovids with the complicated storylines, the sort where you knew that a trap had been laid but your mind kept getting whammied, no matter how many times you rewound it.

    "I don't, uh," He stammered eloquently. Dad was just sitting there, waiting. Waiting for him to fly the ship, apparently. Cam was supposed to fly the ship. Cam was in control.

    Maybe his father was possessed. It made a hell of a lot more sense than the idea that he was actually trusting him with something like this. And oh frell, if he was possessed, Cam was pretty much a sitting mynock. He didn't have his 'blade on him, the blaster behind him was useless, and if it came down to a physical fight Hugo had years of combat training and a good thirty pounds on him. He'd be lucky to get in a few good blows.

    Maybe Dad had finally lost it. At least that option held some semblance of hope to it. Crazy, he could deal with.

    With tense caution, Cam reached for the controls, watching Hugo for reaction out of the corner of his eye. The boy's hands hesitated slightly, inches from the sleek panel of display screens and switches, before he let out a puff of nervous air and leaned forward, flicking a row of toggled buttons. He waited, giving his father a chance to make a comment. When none came, Cambrio soldiered on.

    He had a theoretical knowledge of how to fly the Headhunter, understood the process of getting her airborne and had scrutinized Dad and Vittore enough to piece together the preflight preparation. His hands crept along the Headhunter's control board, gradually making the necessary adjustments and Cam was beginning to relax, his concentration trumping his nerves, when he realized that he'd completed everything. Which meant the only thing left was to actually fly her. A thrill raced down his spine and the teenager felt his pulse skitter wildly.

    Hoping desperately that his father wouldn't notice the slight trembling in his hands, Cambrio reached out and gripped the yoke, praying fervently that he wouldn't smash into anything right out of the gate. Squeezing his eyes shut, Cam punched the repulsorlifts on and then carefully pulled back on the steering column.

    The Headhunter rumbled, shuddering slightly as it came to life... and didn't move.

    Cam frowned. Pulled on the yoke again. The ship rattled harder but it refused to rise. What the hell? He peered through his bangs at Hugo, who sat patiently reclining in the pilot's seat, watching him intently. Sweat started to form on Cambrio's palms as he frantically glanced over the display screens; maybe he'd read the readouts wrong and missed something, or maybe the 'lifts were malfunctioning or -

    "Dad?" Cam shook his head, frustration seeping into his voice. "Something's jacked up."

  20. #20
    Watching Cambrio was almost painful. It wasn't that he did anything wrong, or too slow; granted, he was a little hesitant about most of it, but he'd never actually been taught any of it - Hugo wasn't exactly sure how to go about doing that anyway - and there was only so much that someone could pick up by observation while forced to sit in the back seat.

    No, the pain came from how suspicious Cambrio was. It was obvious that he thought something else was afoot here, and that stung. Had Hugo really been such a shit father that any attempt at being a real family was instantly scrutinised for any hidden threats that might lurk beneath it? If things had been allowed to get so bad, was there any way he'd ever be able to fix it?

    Wordless, he reached over and toggled the control for the inertial compensators; something linked to the ship's inertial dampeners that dialed up the "weight" and stopped it from blowing away in locations with high-speed winds, like the outdoor landing platforms on worlds like Bespin and Nar Shaddaa. Having nearly been hit by a landspeeder that was plucked off the ground by such winds, Hugo had adopted the paranoid habit of engaging the device regardless of the planet they landed on.

    Without saying a word about the easily forgivable blunder, he retreated back into his seat, and folded his hands into his lap. "Here to Hyperspace," he retreated, keeping his vision locked on a non-descript point outside the main viewport, and fighting a smile from his lips.

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